《Hallowed Be The Menu [Satirical LitRPG Enemies-to-Lovers Romantasy]》 Prologue: Sermon, Interrupted.
It was a beautiful and unassuming day in Riverglen, a town like any other. The titular river lazily flowed around and through the idyllic city''s strong brick walls. A natural moat separated this, First Among Towns, from the gently rolling hills beyond. Within the city limits, streets were narrow but not so much that it blocked the gentle sun''s rays from illuminating even the dankest of alleys. And out of the largest portcullis, aligned due north, ran a straight dirt road trampled flat by years of traffic of all sorts. Twice weekly, every citizen in the town and even those of some surrounding farms gathered in the city''s central square, at the Most Holy Cathedral of The Menu. A grand temple with great buttresses gently urging onlooking eyes upwards and stained-glass windows ensuring all were awed by this great and glorious facade. For today''s Mass, Pryor Yordan led the flock in the recitation of the liturgy of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. "In the beginning, all was darkness," preached the Pryor. "Mankind was alone, with neither clothing against the elements, weapons against the beasts, or light against the darkness." "All was darkness." Faithful among the pews nodded solemnly. "But lo! First, there was but darkness. And then, there was the Menu!" Pryor Yordan raised his hands towards the sky. "Yark! The System and its Menu! Forcing order over the natural world!" Outside, it was nearly noon. The sermon was precisely timed to match where the sun refracted through the stained-glass windows, bathing the church from choir stands behind the pulpit down to the wide front doors in a kaleidoscope rainbow. "Indeed, my flock. Not but two miles south from this very holy ground, our blessed forefathers perfected the System, the Holy Interface. And with this Interface and its Blessed Menu, they did rescue this tepid hollow from beast and devilry both." "The Warrior, Who Did Build Our First Walls," the congregation said in a monotone chant. "The Battlemage, court magician for hire. Who Did Puzzle Out the Intricacies of The Holy Interface." "The Scout, Who Did Trailblaze the Great Pilgrimage." "And the Priestess," concluded Pryor Yordan. "Oh Cleric, Who Did Establish This, Our First Church of The Menu." The great church bells would sound soon. A team silently worked up in the belfries, preparing to wind and release the massive bells. It was a feat that would be nigh impossible for such a small crew by hand. But through the Menu, all things were possible. "Together, these great heroes did push back the forces of devilry and heretical doubters both. We are blessed with their Holy Interface forever more." The Pryor clasped his hands in prayer. "My flock, do open your Menus and move over to communion." Dozens, nay, hundreds of unobtrusive menus opened before the congregation. A fluid mirage wafting about a foot and a half in front of each congregant, fully visible only to each individual faithful via a System Brand. What the throngs of churchgoers could see, up at the podium, was this:
Name:If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Yordan, Son of Yonathan. Pryor, Church of the Most Holy Menu
Rank: Cleric
Level: 62
Status: 750/750 (Healthy)
Via this Brand, be they converts or born into the church, all are marked without exception. To posses the Brand is to be blessed with the Menu and its Interface. "And so, my flock, if you would follow the example of that ancient hero of yore, our Besainted Priest, and thumb over to Inventory, then Food, and filter for ''communion wafers''..."
Simultaneously, in a thought-to-be empty confessional booth... "Ahh, they used to have full orchestras for every sermon." A woman wearing a thick eyepatch covering everything from her cheek to her left temple to the bridge of her nose closed her remaining good eye. Her hair was dark and curly. Her eyes were a ruby red. She mimed a string instrument in her hands, swaying to some old choir no one else could hear. "At least, that''s how I remember it, back at home." The woman hummed along softly to an imaginary tune, audible only to her. "Now it''s all just boring sermons and droning choirs." A gruff, muffled voice came from the priest''s confessional booth. Too harsh and guttural to come from some kindly old pastor. "Missing the orphanage?" "What? No." The woman''s face contorted into a frown. "I mean, not like that." "You''re not going to be able to run in that dress." "Relax, dear." The woman chuckled to herself. "I''ve got to blend in with the crowd until the opportune moment." There was a begrudging grunt of approval from beyond the confessional shade. "Time it for when the bells ring." "Not my first operation, ''Kido~" the woman said with a singsong voice. Another less approving grunt. "Just don''t let your guard down, Jelena." The woman, Jelena, swung up from her perch on the confessional booth. Almost showtime. "Just keep that back door open for me." Jelena snickered. Outside, there was a mass of wavy, flickering sounds. The congregation was busy flipping through its myriad menus. The bells would ring right around the time they began eating their weekly communion. "Ah, bit of a familiar feeling," Jelena said. Need about six seconds from the moment I walk out of this booth. Columns will mask my approach, and everyone else who could see me will be too buried in their menus to react. Jelena adjusted her eyepatch. "Hallowed is the Interface," she said glibly. "Just another day at the ol'' haberdashery..."
Up at the altar, Pryor Yordan held his hands aloft. "As our Great Heroes of Yore did in those ancient days, do we select these communion wafers in your honor, oh Lord. And we do select these wafers, then hover over to ''eat,'' as instructed in the holy commandments. And we do consume these wafers as offering to you in prayer, so that our faithful may follow in our heroes'' footsteps down the road of the Grand Pilgrimage." A woman in an austere dress, indistinguishable from any other worshiper, rounded an interior buttress. If anyone in the pews wasn''t distracted by their menu for whatever reason, they may have simply assumed she was a late adherent attempting to sneak in through a side door. The great bells sounded high above. Noon had struck. A woman in a thick eyepatch covering about half her face scurried up dead center into the cathedral''s central aisle, standing before the altar, at the steps at Pryor Yordan''s feet. The Pryor opened his mouth to speak. What he meant to say was a mystery to all and wouldn''t have been audible under the din of the bells. A squat, cylindrical object was pulled out of this mystery woman''s dress. Smoke accompanied a shrill and blinding flash that rang off the acoustic stone of the cathedral. What the congregation saw, in the blink of their eyes, was this:
Name: Yordan, Son of Yonathan. Pryor, Church of the Most Holy Menu
Rank: Cleric
Level: 62
Status: 0/750 (Dead)
Dead. No warning. No turns at death''s door, where the congregants could summon healers or apply a salve. Dead, permanently, his most dishonorable foe not even allowing her victim the church-sanctioned rite of turn-based combat. This murderer looked upon the now frightened congregation with her good eye. She put a finger to her lips. "Simply business."
Chapter One: Sacred Sewer Sentries
Part One: The Many Riddles of Turandot
So quiet and unassuming was Riverglen, that the city guard was relegated to one of two duties. First: manning the wall, a yawn-worthy role that existed largely to keep the odd wild dire-boar out of the market. The second task was purely ceremonial but of much higher status. A simple, but sacred, duty: To guard the sewers, within which recent converts must learn to vanquish sewer vermin. Not a lot to guard down here. Mostly just ensuring that eager new converts didn¡¯t wind up getting overwhelmed and wiping to the first rat or slime that manifested down here in the sewers. Maybe once or twice yearly, in the slower winter seasons, when the Grand Pilgrimage usually saw fewer adherents due to the less-than-favorable weather further down the path, the lowly level 2 Dire Rats down here would all fuse into a level 8-10 Rat King. A bit much for the level 1 initiates fresh from the conversion hall to handle. These pious but overeager converts tended to rush into the Pilgrimage path, often before they even knew how to properly quick-open their Menu! Alas, rescuing off-season would-be pilgrims from these level 10 Rat Kings proved enough to promote Calaf, brave and most devout sewer guard, to level 7 in less than half a decade of leal service. Brave Calaf stood a dutiful watch right at the entrance to these sewers, alongside his partner. Four figures approached, silhouettes in the pre-noon light. ¡°Hail, travelers!¡± Calaf raised his visor. ¡°You embark now on this greatest and most sacred of ancestral duties: vermin exterminator!¡± Indeed, each of these new converts was level four. They¡¯d just received the Brand, by which they could access the Holy Menu. ¡°The Ancient Heroes of Yore once patrolled these same sewers,¡± said a bored voice across the way from Calaf. ¡°It was here that they honed their skills, after being blessed with the Holy Menu,¡± Calaf said. ¡°¡­ and where you, too, shall practice your skills before departing on the grand and holy pilgrimage.¡± Again, Calaf¡¯s fellow guard sighed. Calaf bowed to the new converts. ¡°Greetings. I am:¡±
Name: Calaf of Riverglen, Sewer Guard
Rank: Shielder, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 7
Status: 18/18 (Healthy)
Weapons: - Sentry¡¯s Iron Spear (x1) - Iron Banded Guard¡¯s Mail (x1)
There was a yawn from Calaf¡¯s side. ¡°Hey. Gorman! Introduce yourself.¡± Calaf unsubtly tried nudging his fellow guard. ¡°Oh, right.¡± Gorman shot up, pretending to be alert. ¡°Greetings, brave pilgrims and/or converts. I am:¡±
Name: Gorman, Sewer Guard
Rank: Stalwart, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 13
Status: 31/31 (Bored)
Weapons: - Sentry¡¯s Iron Spear - Iron Banded Guard¡¯s Mail +2 (x1)
Gorman had been serving at this most exalted position for a few years more, hence his higher experience level. How one could fall asleep at such a prestigious post was beyond Calaf. Truly, the Most Holy Interface worked in mysterious ways. ¡°Halt!¡± Calaf blocked the sewer gate with a spear. ¡°Before you can embark on this most sacred journey, you must first prove you have mastered the Menu as the Heroes of Yore did. Show me ¨C rather, us, your titles, brave travelers!¡± One at a time, the converts stepped forward:
Name: Jorge
Rank: Convert
Level 1
Status: 5/5 (Healthy)
Weapons: - Club and Board (x1) - Basic Pilgrim''s Mail (x1)
¡°No doubt going to repsec into Shielder at level 3? That was my first class too.¡± Calaf waved this hero through.
Name: Sarah
Rank: Convert
Level: 1
Status: 6/6 (Nervous)
Weapons: - Stave (x1) - Converted Clerical Robes (x1)
A future cleric, clearly. ¡°Go in peace, sister!¡± Calaf said, then let her through.
Name: Gerard
Rank: Convert
Level: 2
Status: 10/10 (Cocky)
Weapons: - Twin Knives (x1) - Foreign Traveler''s Garb (x1)
¡°Been practicing on the local boar population?¡± Calaf laughed. ¡°Shows foresight. Good luck on your travels.¡± One final initiate remained:
Name: Isaac
Rank: Convert
Level: 1The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Status: 4/5 (Sniffles)
Weapons: - Rusty Sword (x1) - Rusty Mail (x1)
¡°Any one of you could be the world¡¯s next hero,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Go, fear not the rats. There will be a time when their claws cannot even get past your armor rating.¡± The four prospective heroes entered the sewers, in search of rats. Just another day at this most exalted post underneath Riverglen. The first station on the Grand Pilgrimage.
Calaf and Gorman could usually hear the Cathedral of the Menu¡¯s grand bells ring through the very earth every day at noon. The church itself was just across the river, but the thundering cry echoed through the porous stones and labyrinthine sewers of Riverglen. By the time it reached their posting the grand bells sounded something more like this: Pling plong pling. Pling pling plong, plong plong. Plooooong. Such as it was every day, each day of the week, as Calaf stood at his post. Until this day. On this day, the bells sounded something like this: Pling plong pling. Pling plinggggggggggggggggonggggggggg. And then, something stranger still: Silence. Calaf looked at the damp ceiling above them. It trembled, nigh imperceptibly, from some most unnatural tremor. Then, he looked to the light pointing out towards the riverside through the sewer entrance. ¡°Something¡¯s not right.¡± ¡°Choirboys probably dropped the damn bell,¡± Gorman said. ¡°Even so. Something¡¯s up¡­¡± Why, to use the bell was a simple act of the Holy Menu! Select [Action], motion over to [Item: Bell], and click [Use]. It should be hard to whiff at that, let alone cause the bell to cut off mid-ring. Why, the bell itself would have to be interrupted somehow. It took a few moments, Calaf¡¯s ears focusing in on the din out across the river. Echoes distorted it, but even at this distance it was hard not to miss the screams. ¡°Maybe some goblins got past the gate guards?¡± Gorman said. ¡°Not the most competent lot.¡± ¡°No¡­ this is coming¡­¡± Calaf focused his ears. ¡°Yes, from the church itself. Has to be.¡± ¡°Been putting points into hearing?¡± Gorman asked. ¡°Where else could it be?¡± Calaf huffed. ¡°Stay here. I¡¯m going to go investigate.¡± So long as there was someone at the post, their duty would be fulfilled. But they were guards of the Holy Church of the Menu. They were also honor-bound to protect the cathedral if any crisis was brewing. ¡°Ah, points to INT, then. Yeah, I¡¯ll keep an ear out. Make sure a Rat King doesn¡¯t get the converts.¡± Gorman chuckled to himself. Calaf took a step out into the light¡­
Smoke billowed from the Cathedral of the Menu! Wafting out of a shattered bit of stained glass. Across the river, shouts and panic came from Riverglen¡¯s central courtyard. ¡°There¡¯s a fire!¡± Calaf yelled back into the tunnel. ¡°Go find the initiates and tell them to wait before venturing deeper into the sewer.¡± Why, if there were an emergency down here, one that required healers, they may not be able to bring in a proper cleric. Only, instead of some suddenly alert grunt from Gorman, Calaf instead heard the echoing din of screams and shattering metal wafting off of the brickwork. What is going on here!? Calaf thought as he trudged back into the sewers.
Name: Rat King
Title: King of Rats, Beast
Level: 12
Status: 15/15 (Plagued)
Weapons: - Poisoned Fangs (Sharp) (x1) - Vicious Claws (x156)
Three snarling balls of Rat Kings awaited in the sewer¡¯s very first chamber. Each beast consisted of a swirling rat-nado of teeth and flesh all tied right at the tails. The largest rat in each cluster wore a fancy gilded crown ¨C wherever did the beasts get those? No matter. Initiates were in danger! One was already on the ground:
Name: Jorge
Status: 1/5 (Death¡¯s door!)
Death''s door! The Interface was telling Jorge and all Branded within line of sight that even a single blow would mean this pilgrim''s end! Another member of the party had taken a glancing blow from the lead Rat King:
Name: Gerard
Status 3/10 (Plagued!)
Plagued! The dire-rat swarm had inflicted this status effect upon the hapless pilgrim. Purification or an antidote was required, before... With a wobble, Gerard¡¯s health dropped to 2, and then¡­
Name: Gerard
Status: 1/10 (Death¡¯s door!)
Ordinary dire-rats shouldn¡¯t have carried transmutable plague! And certainly, there were hardly enough rats in here this morning to form even a single rat king, let alone three. What¡¯s more, the levels were off. Level 12? Far stronger than any rat ever should be. Gorman was already standing between the two yet-unpoisoned neophytes and the tri-cluster rat swarm. Even with a one level power delta, three versus one could be a little tricky. Calaf brandished his spear and joined Gorman in the rotation order. With a mighty thrust, Calaf pushed his spear into the nearest Rat King. Hit!
Name: Rat King (1)
Status: (10/15)
¡°There we go!¡± said Gorman. ¡°Hold ¡®em there!¡± Gorman, too, thrust at the Rat King as it writhed on Calaf¡¯s spear. HIt!
Name: Rat King (1)
Status: (0/15).
Defeated. ¡°Two more to go,¡± Gorman said. ¡°Don¡¯t get-¡± The remaining two Rat Kings lunged.
Name: Gorman
Status: Hit! (28/31) (Plagued!)
¡°Aw, same to you, then!¡± Gorman whacked the second Rat King with the butt of his spear, then thrust with the pointy end.
Name: Rat King (2)
Status: Critical Hit! 0/15 (Dead).
Another down. All the while, though, Gorman¡¯s health ticked down¡­ 27¡­ 26¡­ One more foe was all that remained. Only¡­ it was going for Sarah, the initiates¡¯ team cleric-to-be! ¡°Watch out!¡± Calaf lunged.
Name: Calaf
Status: 14/18 (Poison resist!)
Alright, he wasn¡¯t poisoned. Scratch still hurt like hell though, even despite his well-crafted Iron Banded Guard¡¯s Mail. Twin blows from both Gorman and Calaf¡¯s spears finished off this third Rat King.
Name: Rat King (3)
Status: 0/14 (Dead)
And then¡­
Item Obtained:
Rat King¡¯s Crown x 3 Sewer Trash x5
Gold x 15 Experience: 86 XP
None knew where the gold came from. Answers were not even in the sacred texts. But it apparated out of thin air and was evenly distributed into the guards and initiates¡¯ interfaces all the same. Sewer trash required no explanation. And Rat King¡¯s Crowns were¡­ used for crafting something, Calaf didn¡¯t quite know what. ¡°Here, you two take them.¡± Calaf provided all three crowns to the two initiates still standing. And as for experience¡­
Gorman +41 xp (129/500)
Calaf +45 (123/130) (so close!)
¡°You¡¯re lucky we made it in time,¡± Gorman said, health still decreasing. ¡°Rat Kings¡­ and over-leveled. What could have caused that, huh?¡± Left to its own devices, Gorman¡¯s plague would time out with 5 HP to spare. As it was, Sarah, ran up and provided Gorman an antidote. ¡°I, ah, don¡¯t have healing spells yet¡­¡± Sarah said sheepishly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Gorman stretched, feeling better already now that the poison was dispelled. ¡°Initiates seldom need them. Could complete this station of the Pilgrimage unarmed, theoretically. These Rat Kings were well beyond what anyone below level 10 is meant to deal with.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here,¡± Calaf added. The two initiates remained, still, on the floor. HP hovering precariously at death¡¯s door. There they would remain for another ten minutes or so until they bled out. Healing serums were standard issue for guards. Calaf handed his stash to Gorman:
Calaf ¡¤ Basic Poultice of Revival (x5) To: Gorman ¡¤ None
¡°We need to¡­ evacuate these initiates,¡± Calaf said, still short of breath. ¡°Don¡¯t need to convince me.¡± Though healed of poison, Gorman still ached from his wounds. ¡°I¡¯ll get ¡®em out of here, then lock the grating so nobody else can come through until we figure out what¡¯s going on. You head to the church, find a priest who can exorcise the rats here, keep ¡®em from over-leveling again.¡±
Once more, Calaf emerged into the light of a Riverglen afternoon. Smoke out of the cathedral¡¯s painted windows had largely died down by the time he reached the nearest bridge. There were still faint sounds of panic up ahead, but it seemed the immediate danger had subsided. Still, Calaf rushed forward. A crowd of worshipers remained outside the cathedral doors. Scared. Weeping. Kept out of the church itself by a wall of beleaguered guards from the wall garrison. But Calaf trudged through until he found the person he was worried about most. ¡°Charlotte!¡± A woman slightly shorter than Calaf in the finest of white church-going dresses led numerous mid-level worshippers in prayer. Her Menu designation was thus:
Name: Charlotte, Deaconess
Rank: Cleric (Most Holy Church of the Menu)
Level: 48
Status: 500/500 (Rattled)
¡°Oh, beloved Calaf! Thank the Interface you are here.¡± Deaconess Charlotte spoke only after her prayers were finished. ¡°It was horrible. You shan¡¯t go in there, my love. It¡¯s the Pryor¡­ he was¡­¡± His beloved Charlotte was unhurt. But Pryor Yordan¡­ could it be? Calaf rushed through the line of beleaguered level 4 town guards who were blocking the civilian entrance to the church. Pandemonium ensued within the First Church of the Menu. Pews thrown aside in a panicked mad dash for the entrance. Some parishioners had been injured in the frenzied retreat and remained, hovering around 5 HP, hurt but stable, awaiting medical attention or to be traded a healing potion. Smoldering tapestries evidenced where some explosive had blown open a hole in the far wall, past the stage where the choir once assembled. And there, sprawled over the altar beneath the now-broken stained glass, was Pryor Yordan.
Name: Yordan, Son of Yonathan. Pryor, Church of the Most Holy Menu
Status: -2/750 (Decaying)
The man who had so purposefully and selflessly raised every orphan in Riverglen. Who had personally plucked Calaf from the orphanage and provided him with the most holy position of sewer guard! Dead, struck down mid-communion even. ¡°Where are the guard captains?¡± Calaf asked. Each sermon should have been attended by a level twenty-five or above guard captain. ¡°Dead,¡± said a basic city guardsman trying to apply a healing item to an unconscious worshiper hovering around 3 HP. ¡°There was another. Wild barbarian of a man. Secured the assassin¡¯s escape out the back.¡± Calaf checked the Brand on Yordan¡¯s corpse. The HP timer ticked down to -3. When it hit minus-five¡­ ¡°Get a cleric here,¡± Calaf ordered. They would have to perform rites before the late Pryor''s hit points reached -5. While no resurrection spells yet existed, at least they could preserve the body, intern it in the below-ground crypts for some future, blessed day. Charlotte appeared, having been let through the line of guards out front. ¡°Allow me to perform the last rites,¡± she said. ¡°Of course.¡± Calaf nodded solemnly. ¡°Just let me¡­ check the body.¡± Calaf consulted the Most Holy Interface, then selected his old mentor.
Subject: Yordan, Son of Yonathan. Pryor, Church of the Most Holy Menu (Deceased)
Items: - Bloody Vestments - Holy Oil Vial (Broken) - Exit Wounds.
¡°No relics¡­¡± Calaf checked again to confirm. ¡°That fiend. She stole them,¡± Charlotte said. ¡°And in the reliquary¡­ it appears they stole dozens of relics earlier and were using this commotion to cover their escape.¡± What could these thieves have possibly been after, killing and looting Pryor Yordan¡¯s body? The benevolent and maidenly Deaconess Charlotte placed her lacy gloved hand on Calaf¡¯s shoulder mail. ¡°Oh, beloved Calaf. This brazen heresy demands a response.¡± Calaf nodded. He grimaced, averting his eyes from the murdered Pryor. Anger flared. ¡°Go, dear. The culprit can¡¯t have gotten out of the city.¡± Charlotte motioned to the smoldering hole in the back of the church. ¡°I will perform last rites to the departed.¡± Yes, there was still time. Charlotte, his betrothed, the universally loved and pure deaconess would handle the burial of his foster father. Why, she was the ranking church officer left, with everyone else north of level twenty gone or injured. Calaf though, Calaf was one of the few guardsmen left capable of pursuit. ¡°Catch this interloper, Calaf, and surely the church officials will prioritize our betrothal all the sooner,¡± Charlotte said. He knew what he had to do.
Chapter Two: Overleveled Prologue Boss Preview
A garment awaited on the cobblestones, just outside the burnt-over hole that had been blown into the back of the church.
Item: Crumpled Dress (Disguise) (Torn)
Calaf had not even a name to go by, only Charlotte¡¯s description of a cackling, ugly, heretical harlot who¡¯d struck Pryor Yordan down in a most dishonorable fashion before a terrified congregation. Surely, this assassin wasn¡¯t fleeing the scene naked! More bodies, some merely injured beyond the capacity for pursuit, others on death¡¯s door, lay strewn about behind the cathedral, and at the entrance of a nearby alleyway. Good enough of a place to check as anywhere else. The injured and unconscious guardsmen tapered off within the alley itself ¨C good, as it meant nobody else was being harmed by this assassin. Bad, as it meant there was less of a trail by which to pursue the villains. Calaf, at a mere level 7, possessed nowhere near the tracking abilities of your average scout. He was a guard ¨C which was to say, defense-oriented. But he knew Riverglen, having lived here for all but six months of his life, during his own holy pilgrimage. Calaf knew exactly where he needed to go.
Only the north gate out of Riverglen was particularly large. It was the gate by which the main road leading along the Grand Pilgrimage ¨C the route used in emulation of the Ancient Heroes of Yore ¨C set forth. It was the easiest way to reach another settlement and the first gate that would be put under lockdown if a wanted criminal was trying to escape town. Numerous other gates along the wall were small, often not wide enough to allow a horse-drawn cart to even pass. Mostly used by local farms. The garrisons at these gates were lax, and the guards would have come to assist in any emergency at the cathedral, same as Calaf. He recognized many from the garrison injured back at the alley, in fact. Calaf took a shortcut to the closest gate. He hid at the mouth of an alleyway. Sure enough, he found his quarry. A woman wearing form-tight, functional garb slunk into the waiting portcullis. She had a dark complexion accentuated by a fine tan, more akin to the deserts of mid-level than boring old Riverglen. And she walked on her tiptoes, making nary a sound. Indeed, she appeared to be looking for any remaining guards. But for the moment, it was only Calaf¡­ The sentry hazarded a peek at this foe, murderer of his foster father:
Name: Jelena TnOdRaTU
Rank: ???
Level: XX
Status: YYY/YYY
Huh. Scrambled. All citizens in good standing had an interface. As did even the lowliest beast in the field. Those who hadn¡¯t taken the brand simply did not have a menu appear when queried. To have a menu that was scrambled like this¡­ ¡­ meant that his foe had once lived under the grace and protection of the Most Holy Menu, and had knowingly forsaken its divine interface. Truly, this woman, this ¡®Jelena¡¯ whatever her surname happened to be beneath the interference, was a heretical fiend unworthy of mercy. Jelena paused at the gate. She held something up to her mouth, then exhaled some smoke. Tobacco ¨C such sinful activities were simply blocked by the Menu. So, she truly was operating off-interface. ¡°Stop right there!¡± Calaf emerged out of the alley shadows. ¡°Oh?¡± Jelena eyed the newcomer, then took a particularly large, final puff of her sin stick. ¡°Was kind of hoping the guards had all run off. Certainly, save a bit of trouble.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a gate guard. It¡¯s Calaf, Sewer Guard.¡± The woman¡¯s lips pursed. ¡°A sewer guard, eh? I¡¯m movin¡¯ up in the world. Still, that seems vaguely familiar¡­¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Calaf brandished his spear. ¡°Have at you! Taste low-level iron, criminal scum!¡±
Calaf Uses Swing: Sentry¡¯s Spear Error: Miss!
Impossible. He tried again¡­
Calaf Uses Swing: Sentry¡¯s Spear Error: Miss!
¡°What!?¡± Calaf tried a third time, to no avail. There was no system under the Most Hallowed Interface by which anyone could dodge a blow. Sure, maybe someone bound via the Brand could step aside, but it wasn''t condoned. All under the Menu were to stand and fight, the honorable way. Using the blessings of the Interface, only their defense stats and armor rating seeing them through. ¡°You fight without honor! You knave! Heretic! Murderer.¡± Again, the guard swung, and again, Jelena artfully dodged. ¡°I¡¯m fighting smart is what I¡¯m doing.¡± The last thrust of the spear did force Jelena to drop her tobacco stick, at least. ¡°You killed the Pryor. He was like a father to me. For heresy such as this, I¡¯ll never stop pursuing you.¡± With a growl, Calaf readied his spear, putting everything into one extra-strong thrust. Even if this dishonorable knave forsakes the menu and engages in this fiendish ¡®dodging,¡¯ it only took one direct hit. Getting stabbed with a spear would still hurt. And the portcullis itself was quite narrow. Only need one lucky hit. Calaf lunged. Missed. Lunged, she dodged. And he lunged again, forward into the relative darkness of the gate. ¡°You killed my foster father!¡± Calaf yelled again. ¡°Haven¡¯t killed anyone who didn¡¯t deserve it,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Would hate to start. Go back and guard your sewer, kid.¡± Jelena¡¯s outfit, while form-fitting, was covered in straps and pockets. No doubt to store fiendish instruments of murder and to pilfer stolen holy artifacts. The thief took something out of a pocket just below her shirt¡¯s right breast, clicked it thrice, and placed it on the wall. Nevertheless, Calaf continued his pursuit. Jelena walked, casually, down the tunnel, her back to Calaf. That globule on the wall began to beep¡­ A cacophonous explosion sent the sewer guard reeling backward. Dust and soot obscured his vision even as the collapsing wall revealed the bright light of day.
Name: Calaf of Riverglen
Status: 6/18 (Hurtin¡¯!) (Leg: Pinned. Arm: Pinned)
Calaf was lucky it wasn¡¯t a critical hit. Anything worse would¡¯ve left him bleeding out, if not so damaged under these tons of rubble that his body couldn¡¯t even be consecrated. Jelena was gone. Out of sight. A now-collapsed pile of wall between Calaf and her. And with his limbs pinned (and everything else feeling as if he¡¯d been picked up and thrown across town) there was no possible way he¡¯d catch up. ¡°Hey, it covers our escape, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Who was she speaking to? ¡°Just glad I managed to shake him before you started getting stabby.¡± Calaf hacked up a horrible cloud of dust. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­¡± he coughed again. ¡°Never stop chasing you.¡± ¡°Still alive?¡± Jelena asked from behind the wall of rubble. ¡°Good to know. If that¡¯s what you wish, I won¡¯t stop you. But¡­ you should really head back to your post, sewer boy.¡± A new status effect appeared in Calaf¡¯s interface:
Name: Calaf of Riverglen
Status: 6/18 (Concussion! 0:10)
Concussion! A status Calaf had never faced before. Its timer ticked down, 0:09, 0:08... ¡°C¡¯mon, ''kido, on to the next reliquary.¡± Before Calaf could puzzle out the identity of this figure the relic thief was talking to, the timer zeroed out and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
Calaf awoke in a coopted section of the cathedral cloister, remade into a temporary medical facility. Above, the sun was hovering thereabout four o¡¯clock for this season. Which is to say, several hours had passed since Calaf¡¯s synapses last fired. With a groan, Calaf instinctually checked his stats:
Name: Calaf of Riverglen
Rank: Sheilder, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 7
Status: 15/18 (Mending)
Ah, the church healers had begun to mend him. A mid-level spell, gradually restoring his health over time. Useful for less drastic cases. ¡°Finally, you¡¯re awake,¡± said a soft and matronly voice hovering over him. It was none other than Charlotte, his betrothed. ¡°Ah, I presume you were unable to recover the Pryor¡¯s relics, were you, my dear?¡± Charlotte asked with a slight neutral curve to her thin lips. ¡°No. And¡­ the assassin got away,¡± Calaf managed. He felt his health tick up to 16/18. ¡°And nearly collapsed the easternmost gate on top of you.¡± Charlotte nodded. ¡°You barely survived, my beloved. Tell me you won¡¯t do something so rash again.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Calaf¡¯s overactive mind got back to thinking about the bemartyred Pryor Yordan¡¯s corpse. ¡°I was outmatched. And that assassin, she fought without the Menu. Her stats were scrambled. I think she was once Of The Menu but has forsaken it. And there was someone else¡­¡± ¡°Hmmm. Yes, this matches what others have testified to,¡± Charlotte said. ¡°Oh, that fiendish assassin. She forsakes the Interface! She engages in heresy against the menu. I bet she even¡­¡± Charlotte let out a gasp. ¡°¡­ despises the concept of motherhood!¡± The horror of it all caused some of Charlotte¡¯s fellow healers to faint. Calaf nodded sagely. Yes, surely this vile, fiendish Jelena was nothing like his beloved, betrothed, and proper Charlotte. Why, the deaconess was a model of churchly virtue! Nothing like that murderous old woman who fought so dishonorably. Charlotte cleared her throat and refocused. ¡°Ah, an iterant cleric from the south happened to arrive in town a few hours ago. We would¡¯ve been overwhelmed with healing duties were it not for his Interface. The church is preparing a response. Perhaps you should join this cleric. At the very least, you may be able to provide vital information about this relic thief.¡± From the south? Why, Riverglen was the first station on the Grand Pilgrimage. The only place further south was¡­ the most holy cave where the Menu¡¯s life-altering perfection was discovered. A truly holy site for the church, that made this grand Cathedral look like a backwater Pryory. So fortuitous for an experienced church healer to arrive at this most dire hour. Calaf rose. He did not dare embrace Charlotte, as anything more explicit outside the bounds of promised wedlock would risk sanction. Instead, they merely clasped their hands at their heart in the Church-approved, modest show of devotion to each other. Then, Calaf wasted no time in seeking out this iterant deacon.
Chapter Three: Wanted - Stunning and Suave Apostate Relic Thief of Marriageable Age
So many ranking church personnel in good standing had been injured or killed in the attack. Pryor Yordan had just been the most high-ranking victim. The second assailant had cut down dozens of clerics and many more guards who¡¯d responded to the commotion. Regardless, though, the sudden arrival of an iterant group of preachers from a southern monastic cloister helped bring order to Riverglen just when the city could have devolved into chaos. Calaf and a few surviving guards and congregants that had managed to get a good-enough look at the assailant gathered back in the cathedral with the head of these iterant preachers. Together, they compiled a profile, since the assassin did not have a proper one of her own:
Name: Jelena (Surname: Unknown)
Rank: Brand-Scoured Apostate, Relic Thief. (Possibly Former Scout or Cleric Class?)
Level: ??
Status: Apostate, Outlaw.
Based on Calaf¡¯s description, they even had a sketch, ready for the wanted posters. They made sure to draw in detail Jelena¡¯s thick eyepatch, no doubt covering fiendish scars. They drew her bloody red eyes, leering with sinister intent. And her sneering lips, practically built for spreading dissent. Yes, truly this vile heretic was the total opposite of pure and beautiful Charlotte, devout and perfect in every way. The iterant preacher who¡¯d come to their rescue was named Deacon. He¡¯d single-handedly healed a dozen guards from Death¡¯s Door back to full health with a wide-area healing spell. All were in awe of his Menu registry:
Name: Deacon
Rank: Deacon, Church of the Most Holy Menu
Level: 41
Status: 80/80
Still not higher rank than Charlotte, but level alone was not the end-all, be-all deciding factor as far as church duties were concerned. Life in a monastic cloister gave the man access to all manner of elaborate church-approved healing spells in his interface. The few who could provide testament to the perpetrator of these crimes stood in the now-abandoned cathedral main hall. Pyror Yordan¡¯s body had been removed to the subterranean crypts. ¡°You there,¡± Deacon said. ¡°Guard from the sewer. The deaconess informs me that you fought this attacker face to face-and lived to tell of it.¡± ¡°That is true, sir,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Few could hope to confront such a villain and live, certainly without becoming corrupted by her vile heresy and seductive wiles,¡± said the deacon. ¡°And you¡¯re only level seven? Why, you seem to have a great deal of potential at least.¡± ¡°She dodges. Fights without the aid of the Holy Menu. Sir, what was this woman doing here?¡± Deacon scratched his chin. ¡°Ah, there¡¯d been rumors of movement among dissidents and apostates. In truth, we were sent from the cloister to provide warning to Riverglen that something of this nature could happen. If we¡¯d only arrived but a few hours earlier¡­¡± The deacon brought out another, crumpled, older wanted poster of their assailant. It was Jelena, features drawn softer, maybe three years younger, lips angled upwards in a slight smile. Eyepatch was nowhere to be found, with a tell-tale marking of the Menu Brand on her left pupil. And she was wearing a plain and unassuming habit.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
¡°For you see, we have reason to believe that this Jelena once administered an orphanage at a convent,¡± Deacon said. ¡°A small outpost, well off the Grand Pilgrimage line. Records are sparse.¡± Calaf nodded, understandingly. It would explain why her interface was scrambled. If she were just any old dissident who¡¯d never accepted the Menu into their heart, she wouldn¡¯t have an interface at all. And the eyepatch ¨C she¡¯d likely defiled the holy Brand when she forsook her convent vows for a life of crime. It was possible - Scouring of a Brand. Mostly done via excommunication. To Scour one''s connection to the System and its Interface willingly, particularly on such a sensitive spot... Calaf shuddered at the thought. This Jelena was truly too far gone from the path of righteousness to save. ¡°As for this second assailant, we have only the faintest of descriptions to go by.¡± Deacon provided an even rougher sketch of a rapid-looking man with very long hair and a scraggly matching beard. Even this, the deacon explained, was conjecture; few who got close enough to the beast to make out details managed to escape in one piece. ¡°We know only that he goes by Enkidu. And there are no records of his birth in any church papers. Neither is his name on the Wall of Converts.¡± Meaning he had no brand, and therefore no menu to speak of. Lowlier than even the lowest boar out in the surrounding fields, even! All this was to say, this second assailant ¨C Jelena¡¯s partner ¨C was likely born in the wild, far from any Church of the Menu. An outlaw ¨C a feral madman ¨C scarcely capable of rational thought. ¡°Well, we know who planned the attack at least,¡± Deacon said. ¡°No doubt Jelena¡¯s the mastermind. She just set this wild man against our hapless guards to cover her escape.¡± Calaf pondered this all. He¡¯d scarcely seen even a trace of this second attacker. Only overheard the aftermath, by which Jelena had talked about calling the figure off before he struck Calaf down¡­ All contemplation was cut short by a commotion at the entrance. A figure muscled his way into the chamber. ¡°Gorman?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Hey, found some iterant preachers from some cloister to the south to heal those initiates,¡± Gorman said. ¡°Locked the sewer up tight. There are, uh, at least seven Rat Kings down there now. All level sixteen or above.¡± ¡°Level sixteen?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Impossible. There¡¯s not enough rats in the city to form even one level sixteen Rat King!¡± But Deacon only scratched at his chin. ¡°So. It¡¯s as we feared¡­¡± A second guard came through, short of breath, reporting to Deacon that there was a commotion at the north gate. ¡°We¡¯ve closed all other gates,¡± said the guard. ¡°Something¡¯s happened to the beasts of the field. They¡¯re double the expected level for the region. And their aggressiveness ¨C it¡¯s like they¡¯ve gone berserk!¡± Double the expected level. Why, that would mean, Calaf did the math, the highest-level nonhuman creature in Riverglen''s valley would be level eight normally. That means we¡¯re looking at level sixteen and above. All possible initiation rites for new converts left around level five by the time they left the sewers. Pilgrims would be slaughtered if they attempted the standard Pilgrimage route! Deacon Deacon pondered this development for a long while before speaking again. ¡°The relic thief has pilfered a vital artifact from the Pryor¡¯s body. One essential for governing the peaceful cohabitation between man and beast. An ancient bauble passed down from the Heroes of Yore. This will require a response.¡± Just having this disaster afflict the sleepy, low-level glades and heaths of Riverglen was bad enough ¨C preventing new pilgrims from beginning their journey up the ranks of the church¡¯s levels. But levels scaled exponentially, or something close to it. If a zone towards the end of the Grand Pilgrimage was similarly affected, well, doubling a level eighty-five creature in the Fellmarsh would be a threat that the combined might of every Paladin in the church would be unable to put down. ¡°Yes. This is a crisis. Potentially on a scale unseen since the Ancient Heroes of Yore established the church,¡± Deacon said. ¡°I must report this to the ecclesial council at the end of the line, urgently. But I¡¯ll need guards. Some intimately familiar with the relic thieves and capable of braving the Grand Pilgrimage route.¡± With that, Deacon turned to Calaf, and Gorman beside him. ¡°The sewers will be closed indefinitely until these relics are retrieved,¡± Deacon said. ¡°We must resolve this problem before the turn of the season.¡± Calaf nodded understandingly. If they couldn¡¯t return the local beasts to their usual habits by that time, then the yearly Grand Pilgrimage season was in danger. ¡°Sentry Gorman,¡± Deacon said. ¡°Your level should suffice for the new tier of difficulty. Would thou do your church-mandated duty and accompany me at least until the next station?¡± ¡°Well, not getting paid until the sewers reopen,¡± Gorman said with a shrug. ¡°And you, Sentry Calaf,¡± Deacon said. ¡°Though low level, you have firsthand experience confronting our culprit. Will you assist in the pursuit?¡± Calaf let out a knightly bow. ¡°Of course, Deacon. It will be an honor to bring this fiend to justice!¡±
They would leave in the morning. Immediately after this briefing with Deacon, Calaf returned to Charlotte¡¯s side. He risked the potentially scandalous maneuver of tenderly placing his hands atop her own clasped hands. ¡°I¡¯ve been summoned to journey down the Grand Pilgrimage line,¡± Calaf told her. ¡°Possibly all the way to the far end of the Pilgrimage path.¡± He went on to explain the basics of the latest crisis, and the need to pursue this foul villain and apostate, Jelena. ¡°I see. Worry not, dear Calaf. This is an excellent opportunity sure to strengthen your power under the Menu as well as win glory for the church.¡± Charlotte closed her eyes. ¡°Ah, but I only regret not being able to be by your side. There¡¯s no telling when we¡¯ll be back, my love.¡± ¡°Worry not.¡± Charlotte placed her hands on top of Calaf¡¯s own ¨C as intimate as the Menu would allow, without granting a potential reputation-destroying title or status. ¡°Surely, for such a great deed, the exalted church elders would smile upon our engagement. Should you earn many more levels, they must surely even move up the date of our betrothment.¡± Indeed, Calaf¡¯s engagement to such a higher-level deaconess was rare and unorthodox. More prestige would be required before they could have the church truly sanction their union. It was for that very reason that their betrothal had been in the engagement phase since he started his sewer guarding duties. With his goal clear, Calaf made his leave and ran off to prepare for this latest journey.
Chapter Four: Riverglen Tales
The Grand Pilgrimage shadowed the very same route that the Ancient Heroes of Yore traveled in their quest to bring order to the savage, menu-less world. It started, of course, in Riverglen. Hometown of Calaf, and long ago, a small village that was home to the Ancient Heroes of Yore. It was at the most-holy cloister just south of town that the old heroes had been blessed with the Menu. And it was in the Riverglen sewers that the heroes perfected their skills with the Interface. The heroes¡¯ hometown had no doubt benefited greatly from their holy crusade. Sewers that once were swarming with rats had been tamed, of course. Early good deeds performed by the grace of the Menu had cleared out the dire-scorpions from a nearby cavern, driving their foul kind to extinction in these lands. The Cleric and The Scout had introduced the concept of crop rotation to the subsistence dirt farms of the hinterlands, allowing the fertile river valley to support increasingly larger populations. Why, legend had it that the first Paladin, then just a lowly Shielder, even rescued the village alderman¡¯s daughter from bandits. In short: the Ancient Heroes of Yore had, in a few weeks, solved basically every problem preventing their minor, beleaguered hovel from succeeding. And as they left their hometown, they tamed all the wild ravenous beasts of the field and local bandit, dire-scorpion, and goblin populations with the inheritable Brand of the Menu, ensuring they would conform to the constraints of the Holy Menu forevermore. And so, the area around Riverglen had been constrained to threats no higher than a level eight boar or bandit group for centuries. Well, until this very afternoon.
Calaf stood at the north gate. Now fortified with the preponderance of the city watch. A horde of particularly beefy looking wild hogs awaited outside.
Name: Wild Dire-Boar (x25)
Title: Big Pig, Beast.
Level: 16
Status: 36/36 (Slovenly)
A wall of guards with level 20 shields, so hefty they could only be held two-handed at this stat distribution, maintained the line. They held, even as the full force of twenty-five slovenly dire-boars pushed against them, slobbering hungrily. Just waiting to break into Riverglen and make a beeline for the local nursery and orphanage, no doubt! ¡°Push them back!¡± cried a guard captain, himself only level nineteen. Deacon approached the line of shields. With deft control of the Interface as befitting a member of the church of some renown, he cast with a muttered prayer:
Spell: Holy and Foolproof Pigsbane
Effect: Deals 1,298 holy damage to any porcine enemy on the field. (75% base chance, scales with Effect Hit Rate)
Description: Kills. Pigs. Dead. "See? It''s a miracle! A way to slay the dire-bovines without even getting your hands dirty. Maybe this will be handy after all."
There was a flash of off-pink light emerging from a catalyst in the deacon¡¯s left hand. With 75% base chance, thereabouts 19 of the rabid beasts should have dropped dead. Deacon must have a prodigious effect hit rate, as twenty-four pigs dropped dead. One last very confused boar remained, to be speared down by some enterprising guards. Experience points were evenly distributed between the deacon and the dozens of guards who¡¯d been grappling with the beasts. Calaf stood, gazing down the long road north. At one point it had been but a simple goat path. Church maintenance crews had widened the trail in the intervening century or two. And of course, the constant flow of pilgrims during peak season kept the road level and well-tread. ¡°Nervous?¡± asked the deacon. ¡°No.¡± Calaf shook his head. He¡¯d traveled the pilgrim¡¯s path before, at least part of the way, a few years back. Can hardly call yourself a faithful adherent of the Most Holy Menu if you don¡¯t make it until at least Deepwood. Monsters there were stronger than even these wild boars, but the sheer number of pilgrims provided a great deal of safety; meant there was always a higher-level adherent along the path. Still, this pilgrimage was of the utmost importance. And they were off-season. And he¡¯d likely have to combat these higher-level creatures and level up in the Interface. Might even catch up to his beloved Charlotte¡¯s level by the time he returned to Riverglen. Calaf thought of how different things would be if he returned at level twenty, or even thirty. Rat Kings would be felled in a single blow. Indeed, his most holy posting would perhaps be beneath him. But he¡¯d have to survive this journey first. To that effect, he did have Deacon to ensure he remained healed. And Gorman, too, was there, a few levels higher. Surely, he could take a hit or two. Party gathered, Calaf took one last look at his stats and inventory before heading forth:
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer
Rank: Authorized Seeker of the Church, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 7
Status: 18/18 (Healthy)
Items: - Sentry¡¯s Spear x1 - Plain Kite Shield x1 - Iron Banded Guard¡¯s Mail x1
He would level up soon. Even one battle would do it ¨C if he¡¯d arrived just a bit sooner, he could¡¯ve taken a swing at a pig or two to finish that task off. No matter. The journey was only just beginning. Calaf took a step forward, down the familiar pilgrim¡¯s road. Gorman carried a pack with most of their rations in addition to his standard issue guard equipment. With the way the Menu¡¯s weight restrictions worked it was best to pool the rations together.
Every convert memorized the itinerary of the Grand Pilgrimage. It was an essential part of church education, taught to every school child. From Riverglen, the Ancient Heroes of Yore marched north, shadowing the river. This continued until they reached a natural chokepoint at Granite Pass. A small trading post sat there now, second major station on the pilgrimage. A great gate, dating back to some far time in the distant past, controlled access to a high plateau, where the heroes achieved level sixteen before continuing onward. These highlands start out arid, but gradually give way to a great alpine forest. Here, carved into the very trees, is Deepwood. A church library sits here in the grandest hollowed-out tree, home to the Wall of Converts. From there the itinerary pointed pilgrims onward until they reached Twelthnight. A small and cozy hovel, this represented where the old heroes managed to camp after exactly one fortnight plus or minus a few days of travel. Most pilgrims made it there much faster though. Why, such a settlement simply wouldn¡¯t exist were it not for the benevolence of the church. Only the particularly devout or those with a church-sanctioned mission typically continued onward past this point. The route only grew more dangerous. But for those wishing to travel the heroes¡¯ path, the church fully funded and sanctioned more devout worshippers in their climb up the path. It never hurt to have a backlog of faithful in the level 40-60 range, after all. Those of unwavering faith carried onward along a gradually sloping plateau to Plains Junction. A fairly central trading post that funneled pilgrims north-south, and funneled goods and resources from the periphery onto the pilgrimage route where it belonged. From there, the pilgrim¡¯s path sloped down and went due east towards a fertile river delta. Something of Riverglen¡¯s sister city, this region held a majority of the world¡¯s population under the Menu. Another long route skirting the river cut across at a grand bridge, then broke off through a gap in some mountains well before the river reached its headwaters. There, pilgrims should be leveled enough to brave the high desert to the next station ¨C Firefield. It¡¯s said even the ancient heroes nearly perished in this desolate abode.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. And yet, under the Menu, Firefield and even more dangerous areas further north have become bustling centers where pilgrims frequently emulate the many side activities the old heroes did to prepare for the increased challenge ahead. At the edge of the desert another, more temperate forest awaited. This was Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, where the Ancient Heroes of Yore wintered in a microclimate of eternal Fall. The Menu was so efficient now, the pilgrimage route starting so early in the year, and Pilgrims so adept at retracing the heroes¡¯ footsteps, that nobody ever had to winter there any longer. The path went only ever-upward from that point on. Up a steep, nigh-impenetrable mountain range and through mines and caverns to a high plateau containing The Olde Capital. A walled city, mostly ruins now, that represented the decadent order of an older, Menuless world. The outer plateau continued onward until it reached the silted-over headwaters of some ancient riverbed or another. This was the Fellmarsh. Only the truly faithful dared venture further along the pilgrimage path. True to its name, the Fellmarsh produced no small number of casualties every year. Beyond all that, the swamp¡¯s outskirts prowled by horrible beasts north of level ninety, was the last resting place of a two-hundred-foot-tall demon king. Slain by the legendary heroes. The bones of the old lord still littered the plain at Demon Lord¡¯s Fall, his corrupting influence leaking out from the very soil even today. It was a good thing all the church higher-ups resided directly on top of the corpse in the First Cathedral of the Most Holy Interface, preventing this foul contamination from spreading further. If the demon lord ever did rise again, all the top-level faithful that made up the bishops and cardinals of the church would be there to put him back in the ground. There was no original route back to the start of the pilgrimage at Riverglen, for the original heroes willingly chose to stand vigil over the slain demon king, forming the basis of what would become the renowned and benevolent church. Such was the full and unabridged list of stations on the Grand Pilgrimage Itinerary. Their level ranges were thus:
Name: Level Range Description
Riverglen Lvl 1-8 (Currently 8-16) Idyllic Rolling Hills and Walled Starter Town
Granite Pass Lvl 4-16 Minor Mountain Pass
Deepwood Lvl 14-23 Clerical Town Amid Alpine Forest
Twelthnight Lvl 24-30 Edge of the Woods, Camp at Fortnight junction.
Plains Junction. Lvl 23-33 Trading Town on The High Plains
Delta Lvl 25-46. Fertile River Delta, Full of Opportunity
Firefield Lvl 48-56 High Desert. Dearth of Supplies, Bountiful Situations for Powerleveling.
Autumn¡¯s Redoubt Lvl 50-60. Eternal Fall. Generally the highest level area a layperson would dare tread.
The Olde Capital Lvl 58-75 Abandoned ruins of an older, more savage age.
High Plateau Lvl 72-85 Plains Around the Olde Capital
Fellmarsh Lvl 88-95 A deadly marsh.
First Church of the Menu (Demon Lord¡¯s Fall) Lvl 96-100. Seat of all church power. Also a font of leaking eldritch evil.
The goodwill of the church helped regulate the levels of various threats. Where once any old beast could be a threat to even the most powerful knight if caught unawares, now they were properly cataloged and maintained at a level appropriate for their region. Such had it been since the fall of the Demon Lord. The late unpleasantness had thrown Riverglen¡¯s level ranges off course. But hopefully, they could reach Granite Pass before any reliquary thefts could cause any Interface-related problems as well. With the blessing of the Menu on their side, they could put a stop to Jelena¡¯s crimes before any further damage could be caused.
The rolling foothills turned more numerous and more jagged as the trio ventured north. Few traveled the Pilgrimage Road at this time of year. But at peak season, this road would have been an endless line of devout and faithful between here and Twelthnight, at least. Indeed, even with the current emergency there were few foes to encounter along the road. Until¡­ Calaf and Gorman walked around a bend, a great glacial boulder masking the view of the path ahead. Immediately thereafter, they discovered the site of a massacre. Carts were overturned, their supplies pilfered.
Object: Pilgrim¡¯s Cart
Items: Half-Empty Potion Bottles x3 Broken Potion Bottles x32 Bundles of Torches x5 Pilfered Chests Bereft of Gold x6 Antidotes x2 Blood-Stained Pilgrim¡¯s Itinerary x1
All holy items that the Heroes of Yore would have brought with them on this stage of the journey. With so much empty space there was no doubt there was supposed to be more food here that was pilfered. That would point to an attack by the newly beefed-up wild boars. But the potions and stolen gold, though, that was evidence of something far worse¡­ Strewn about the cart were the corpses.
Object: Decayed Corpse
Status: -5/15 (Rotted)
There were many others, all hovering between -3, still capable of preserving and consecrating, and -6, so decayed they were basically skeletons. This massacre had occurred some hours ago. ¡°Eyes up.¡± Gorman could be alert when the chips were truly down. ¡°Someone comes.¡± A trio of three figures approached.
Name: Vicious Bandit (x3)
Rank: Outlaw, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 16
Status: 34/34 (Buffed!)
The raiding party wore leather armor thereabouts level three. Sturdy, but not comparable to what a city guard would use. But their levels were buffed, the same as the beasts of the field. Their axes were level 2 ¨C well under-leveled for their new, beefed-up forms. Still, they didn¡¯t need the best equipment to massacre some low-level initiates none-the-wiser on the pilgrim¡¯s path. ¡°For untold generations, your kind have kept our clans at a lowly level eight,¡± said the lead bandit. ¡°But no longer. The Great Leveling is nigh! Now we shall overwhelm your pathetic city guard. And it is us who will level up, and you who will perish under the Menu!¡± Gorman was two levels below this trio of bandits. Calaf was even more underleveled. Deacon, though, had a significant level advantage and access to a wide range of church-exclusive spells.
Deacon Casts: Holy Shield! Effect: One Free Hit Is Blocked, Even If It''s Ultima IX, the World Killer.
Deacon Casts: Lightning Buff! Effect: Weapon Tips Imbued with Holy Lightning.
Deacon Casts: Lightning Spear! Effect: Chuck a Lightning Bolt at the Nearest Bandit.
The lead bandit was struck by the bolt. His skeleton was displayed in x-ray amidst blinding light as he reeled backward. In the time it took Calaf to blink, the lead bandit¡¯s health disintegrated down to -8/34. So dead he¡¯d never be consecrated. ¡°Should even the odds.¡± Deacon heaved, out of breath. All that stamina consumption left even the well-leveled church deacon winded. Calaf¡¯s speartip was glowing with holy lightning. It was a buff that lasted prohibitively shortly, maybe forty-five seconds max. He would have to strike fast. He thrust at the nearest bandit, still cowed from the smiting of their leader.
Calaf Uses: Thrust Effect: Stab the nearest target.
The bandit reeled back, bleeding health. 20/35 HP remained, most of that a result of the lightning buff. Gorman whacked the third bandit with the flat of his spear. Empowered (and with a more reasonable level delta), the bandit was left with a mere 6/35 HP. ¡°Retreat!¡± the cowed bandit yelled, already running off into the field. He didn¡¯t even try to return a hit on Gorman. Gorman wasn¡¯t done yet¡­
Special Technique: Thrown Spear Effect: Chuck Your Spear at An Enemy (Not Recommended Mid-Fight!)
The spear impaled the bandit in the back. -4/35 HP. Deader than dead. One last bandit remained. The one locking axe-to-spear with Calaf. The bandit gave Calaf a most unmenu-like shove. Once he was off balance, the bandit lunged:
Special Technique: Double Strike! Effect: Attack Twice.
The bandit lunged first. There was a ¡®plong!¡¯ sound as the axe whiffed, ineffectual, off the holy aura that was shielding Calaf. That aura faded, and now the guard was vulnerable. A second swing. Critical hit, the lowly axe rending Calaf¡¯s armor. HP: 6/18. All that from a buffed bandit wielding woefully underleveled weaponry. Just need¡­ to beat this one. If I can off him, then any damage I take won¡¯t matter¡­
Special Technique: Shield and Spike Effect: Hide Behind Shield And Poke The Bastard (Significantly Ups Defense and Attacks Thrice)
The holy buff on his spear wasn¡¯t gone yet. And it compounded with subsequent strikes. 14¡­ 5¡­ 1 HP. The bandit was almost gone! Only, there was one more blow Calaf had to endure¡­ the bandit raised his axe¡­
Deacon Casts: Fragment of the Holy Shield! Effect: One Free Hit Is Blocked, But Only If It¡¯s of Equivalent Strength to Fireaga IV or Below.
Another, diminished holy aura surrounded Calaf. It appeared Deacon wasn¡¯t quite out of power yet. The bandit¡¯s third strike whiffed off the aura, and Calaf struck with a standard spear thrust. The bandit fell, HP: 0/35. Victory. And the rewards:
Item Obtained:
Bandit Clan¡¯s Sacred Ancestral War Banner x 1 Broken Bandit Axes x4
Gold x 150 Experience: 150xp
The gold, distributed three ways, was nothing special. The banner was for some quest they could turn in back at Riverglen in emulation of The Old Heroes Taming And Conversion Of The Bandit Clans. The bandit axes were used in crafting or somesuch. But the experience, even distributed 3 ways, was more than enough¡­
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 9
Strength: 15 (+2)
Endurance: 19 (+4)
Agility: 12 (+1)
Intelligence: 10 (+1)
Charisma: 8 (+0)
Arcane: 5 (+0)
Luck: 18 (+3)
Not bad for random rolls. And having prevailed against higher-level enemies, he was nearly to level 10 already! Gorman, too, should be hitting level 15 on his next battle. The mere level 16 bandits were just a drop in the more experienced Deacon¡¯s XP bank, however. ¡°Good work, my brothers-in-faith,¡± said Deacon. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll allow me¡­¡± The Deacon moved to each corpse in turn, finding those whose decay had not yet passed -5 HP and waving his seal over their Brand. ¡°May their bodies be preserved for future use,¡± said Deacon, solemnly. For those whom consecration was too late, they would simply have to leave the corpses where they lay. It would make more sense to continue to Granite Pass, where the garrison ought to be sufficiently leveled to properly clean up this ruined caravan. Even the bandits were consecrated, at least those whose bodies were not so utterly destroyed to make the act impossible. For their ancient ancestors were brought under the Menu¡¯s sway with these heritable brands. And it was by the Brand that the church ensured these bandit clans remained level eight or below. Were it not for the recent misfortune, the bandits would¡¯ve made easy prey for even the most neophyte of pilgrims and converts. Indeed, even these slovenly brigands served the Menu, and were bound by its Interface. All proper consecrations performed; the trio set off down the pilgrim¡¯s path. A little bit stronger. Still no sign of the outlaw Jelena and her vicious wildman pet.
Chapter Five: Road Block
Rolling hills gradually gave way to taller, sharper rocky mounds leading up to an arced mountain range separating Riverglen¡¯s valley from the rest of the world. Upon crossing a bridge spanning a deep canyon over the river, the level of the enemies suddenly dropped down to level 4. Calaf achieved level ten by the time they reached the bridge. Fairly well leveled for the region up to Granite Pass. Maybe too leveled, as the battles from that point onward were quite easy ¨C and offered just paltry sums of experience for even a battle against six dire-pigeons. Truly, Jelena¡¯s relic thievery had damaged the level pacing of the entire pilgrimage route. They had to retrieve these relics soon, before the spring pilgrimage season picked up. Even with the enhanced creatures of the Riverglen region, travel time to the south gates of Granite Pass only took about two and a half days. It was a much smaller settlement than Riverglen ¨C maybe a few hundred souls in all ¨C and built at the top of a narrow canyon cutting through a younger, wilder river that was in fact the same body of water that flowed placidly through the First Among Towns. At any rate, the trio entered the south gates of Granite pass well before noon on their third day of travel. ¡°Welcome to Granite Pass!¡± said a level fourteen gate guard. ¡°Hail, good sir guard,¡± said Calaf. ¡°What news do you have of the Pilgrim¡¯s Path?¡± ¡°Welcome to Granite Pass!¡± the guard said again, then cleared his throat. ¡°Ahem, sorry. I¡¯ve been instructed to say that exactly once for every traveler who comes in from the south. You¡¯re the first group to come through in a while.¡± ¡°There¡¯s been a problem in Riverglen,¡± said Deacon. ¡°One that risks interrupting the pilgrimage. We are on vital church business.¡± ¡°Oh, well, that sounds bad,¡± said the guard. ¡°Above my level range. Uh, you can visit the gatehouse up north. That¡¯s where the reliquary is located.¡± ¡°Thank you, good sir guard,¡± said Deacon, then blessed the guard with a shield spell. ¡°Thank you kindly,¡± said the guard, who then turned to Gorman. ¡°Welcome to Granite Pass!¡± Gorman scowled as they passed through the narrow mountainous valley, split in half by the river canyon, blocked on all sides by jagged mountains. ¡°Never did like this place,¡± said the gruff sewer sentry. ¡°It¡¯s all so¡­ claustrophobic.¡±
Calaf had visited Granite Pass once before, on his initiation pilgrimage. He¡¯d been one of a long line of pilgrims along the road, stretching almost uninterrupted from glen to pass. At the time, the young initiate hadn¡¯t even classed into Shielder yet. Everything had felt new and exciting, and of course, he was but one of hundreds of like-minded pilgrims all participating in this great journey. Now, some years later, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but notice that there were more inns than houses in this quaint mountain pass. Indeed, it seemed like every four of five buildings were inns. Pilgrims had to stay somewhere. Here in the off-season finding rooms wouldn¡¯t be a problem. In fact, many inns were shut down until the pilgrimage season got under full swing. Deacon continued to the north gate ¨C a straight shot through town ¨C to investigate the holy reliquaries. Gorman went in search of lodging. And Calaf took the opportunity to go in search of a weaponsmith. The first road on this side of the canyon provided a familiar sight: the shop where Calaf had purchased his first proper shield. Ahms Armaments, said the sign. Under new management, said a smaller sign affixed to the bottom. Calaf entered the blacksmith¡¯s shop. Last time, he¡¯d been greeted by Ahms, a wizened level 67 blacksmith. Now, he found a man thereabouts his age or younger.
Name: Mister Smith, Most Holy Church of the Menu
Rank: Blacksmith
Level 28
Status: 52/54 (Particularly Troublesome Hangnail)
Weapons: Hammer, One-Handed.
¡°Greetings, I am Smith, the local Blacksmith,¡± said the smith. ¡°I can tell by your Menu designation. Hail, Smith¡­ Smith,¡± Calaf began. ¡°Mister Smith¡­ last time I traveled the Pilgrim¡¯s Path, there was a skilled weapon forger known as Ahms. Is he no longer in town?¡± ¡°Eh, Mister Smith is my father. Mister Ahms Smith Senior.¡± The blacksmith selected his forge using the Interface, then selected a red-hot poker and input ¡®stir¡¯. ¡°He¡¯s retired. Went up the route to Firefield to research fancy ores. Left me the shop. Sorry about the introduction ¨C lot of the newer pilgrims haven¡¯t quite gotten the hang of the Menu yet.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The elder Smith was already level 67 ¨C Firefield would be a relative breeze for him. But could this new younger Blacksmith Smith be up to the task? ¡°I have need of new equipment,¡± Calaf said. ¡°I¡¯ll be traveling along the route in a bit of an unorthodox fashion and cannot confirm when I may be coming up against monsters of higher than usual level ranges.¡± It wasn¡¯t quite a lie. But it certainly wouldn¡¯t do to panic the laypeople with the full details of his quest. ¡°Hmmm. Yes, level 10, yes?¡± The blacksmith looked Calaf over. ¡°And you¡¯re still using iron, eh? Most newbies at least swap out whatever they got leaving Riverglen for pilfered bandit equipment.¡± ¡°This¡­ is standard issue among the sewer guard,¡± Calaf said, oddly defensive. ¡°It fulfils its role. But¡­ more sturdy equipment is needed, is all.¡± Gold gathered from various enemies along the road piled up from battle to battle. Any one fight was no major gain. But several days¡¯ worth left Calaf positively lousy with coin. He could upgrade every bit of equipment with some funds to spare, really. ¡°Let me see your wares,¡± Calaf said. Numerous steel weaponry and armor sets were on display ¨C away from the forge, where Smith worked on creating new fine crafts. The Menu described the immaculate craftsmanship. On a nearby display:
Item: Steel Mail
Description: Sturdy steel-forged banded mail. +2 to all physical defenses. (Requires: STR: 12, AGL: 10)
Above the stall, hanging precariously:
Item: Steel Spear
Description: Well-made spear with a steel tip. +4 to all piercing attacks. (Requires: STR: 8, AGL: 12)
And lastly, in the back:
Item: Steel Kite Shield
Description: Blocks 100% of Physical Damage (When Held Up Directly in Front of Incoming Threats). (Requires: STR: 8, END: 10)
Every item was a direct upgrade to his current kit. He bought the shield first ¨C the most handy item for his class, of course. Then he upgraded his mail and then spear, in that order. These items were just for display, of course. The blacksmith turned to the forge and consulted the Menu. There was a soft hum of fire, the smith working physically to superheat metal just as much as he was buried into his own personal Interface. Combat alone was not the only way to level up under the Menu, though it did provide the most tangible results for a layperson. Smithing, crafting, artistry, and other more specialty professions were a perfectly viable, if slower, way to level up ¨C though they did require a bit of natural skill at the craft as well. Within thereabouts five minutes a fine Iron-Studded Steel Kite Shield was ready to go. Its base was still wood, but would block far more than his current shield. A similar process produced mail to his specification, and¡­
Item: Steel Spear +1
Description: +5 to all piercing attacks.
¡°Ah, this does tend to happen every tenth forging,¡± Smith said. ¡°Enjoy the bonus, on the house.¡± Calaf felt the spear in his hands, and compared it to his current iron sentry¡¯s spear. Yes, so much extra power for just .45 increase in weight. His movement even in the full set was yet unencumbered, and as his strength and endurance continued to level up in tandem it would grow only easier to wear. What an amazing prodigy this new blacksmith must be, to produce a +1 spear of such fine craftsmanship, Yes, this extra attack value was the mark of a master smith in the making! Each item was meant for a level 9 Shielder-type. They should last him quite a while. He used about 75% of his expected budget on the items, then sold off his current equipment to recoup a few costs. Newly outfitted for the journey ahead, Calaf left the old smith¡¯s abode and went searching for the north gate.
The north gate was closed shut when he found it. A thick gate made of truly massive reddish tree trunks, imported from Deepwood far to the north. Despite being the off-season, there was a gaggle of pilgrims waiting at the gate. People who¡¯d just managed to get to Granite Pass¡¯s safe harbor before the natural order of things around Riverglen went haywire. Nobody would be traveling along the pilgrimage route so long as this gate was closed. There was no sign of Deacon to be seen. But a guard was posted at a gatehouse, explaining the situation in a rote fashion to some annoyed, interrupted pilgrims. Calaf showed his menu designation to them. The moment they laid eyes on ¡®Authorized Seeker of the Church¡¯ they let him right on through. Buildings in Granit Pass were chiseled into the very stone. Some were hollowed out of very particular boulders, but this gatehouse was made out of the very rock wall that protected the pass from the elements and encroaching monsters. Within this gatehouse was a series of stone steps and at the bottom of that was a basement. The reliquary. It was a bit of common knowledge that Granite Pass wasn¡¯t a particularly holy place as far as the Church of the Menu was concerned. Just the second town the Heroes of Yore happened to walk through on their journey. A fair enough place for pilgrims to load up on supplies after learning the ropes of the path and their Interfaces after Riverglen. This is to say that there wasn¡¯t much church infrastructure in Granite Pass. Instead, there were a few church-trained guards and a dusty old reliquary that held the relics, blessed by Pryors from the other towns, that largely provided the church¡¯s divine protection to this land on, as they say, ¡®autopilot¡¯. Deacon now stood in this reliquary. A reliquary that was empty. Not a single relic on the walls. ¡°This is worse than we feared,¡± Deacon said.
The guards at Granite Pass were usually shipped in from elsewhere. Which was to say they were relatively over-leveled for the region. Not much tended to phase them. But they also ran a rather lax ship. ¡°The garrison says that the relics were last confirmed to be in there at least two days ago,¡± Deacon said. ¡°So, our relic thieves likely made a beeline for here just as soon as they completed their foul deeds in Riverglen. The guards insist they don¡¯t often go in here because they ¡®don¡¯t¡¯ want to accidentally break anything¡¯ ¨C fair enough. Though I do believe it¡¯s high time the church assigns a proper Pryor to the pass¡­¡± Deacon pondered this, hands on his chin. ¡°And the missing relics. Yes. That would explain the mess outside.¡± Level 32 dire-tortoises slammed their shells against the heavy wooden north gate. Far higher level than anything that ought to have been within twenty miles of the pass. The combined might of the guard garrison, some particularly martial pilgrims, and a certain Deacon¡¯s blessings could likely disperse the enemies and garner a great deal of XP for everyone. But it would be a tiresome affair, take potentially days, and at the end of it they¡¯d simply be following the relic thieves and could easily fall into any other old trap. The areas south of Granite Pass had not shown any change in monster behavior or level range. Which meant Jelena was intentionally blocking her back from pursuit. Alternative routes would be required. Ones that did not necessarily conform to the Pilgrim¡¯s Path. ¡°Where is Gorman?¡± Deacon asked after a while. ¡°Acquiring our lodging for the night,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Good. We¡¯ll leave first thing in the morning.¡± Deacon made for the door. ¡°I will reload on mana and return to you within the hour. Rest up. There may yet be a path that will bypass the pass and forests and get us further up the route, cutting Jelena off at the plains.
Chapter Six: Off-Road
At first light on the fourth day¡¯s travel, Deacon met Gorman and Calaf at a small shrine built into the west-facing wall of Granite Pass. ¡°Oh, great Scout, do bless our journey off the path,¡± said Deacon. ¡°First among trailblazers, who did recon the path north of Granite¡¯s Pass. Let us discover new paths to let us fulfil the glorious mission of the Menu, in thine mercy.¡± A cold stone visage of a man, features vaguely ambiguous, sat carved into the wall. The fast and nimble member of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. Stopping at this shrine before heading forth would grant a +2 to Agility. In addition to stat requirements, this provided bonuses to numerous movement-related subskills operating in the background of the Interface and did not necessarily make themselves apparent on the stats page. They would need a great deal of movement blessings to blaze the trail ahead. Indeed, Deacon¡¯s plan was to travel off-route, towards a settlement far from the Pilgrim¡¯s Pass. Hence why they deigned to borrow the blessings of the Scout. Similar shrines existed for the Knight, the Cleric, and the Battlemage. In Granite Pass there were but minor shrines dug into the wall. But at most populated towns along the path of any consequence, they were truly grand shrines to the Ancient Heroes of Yore. Riverglen¡¯s cathedral had entire wings for each hero. You could practically feel the blessings of each class just hanging in the air, as if the old heroes were always there observing future generations of faithful. With a +12% to their movement speed and a blessing to all Agility and stealth-based modifiers, the trio of new heroes set forth. They traveled back south down the pilgrim¡¯s path for a time, scoring a pittance of XP and gold from minor level 4 monsters yet unaffected by the great leveling fiasco. No new pilgrims were seen crossing paths with Calaf¡¯s group. Not unheard of in the off-season, but the leveling problems around Riverglen weren¡¯t helping either. ¡°My fellows in the southern convent should be formulating an escort service through the Riverglen wilds,¡± said Deacon. ¡°That will be a viable solution in the off-season, but only so long as the leveling issues with the local beasts do not grow worse with time.¡± Calaf clenched his fists. How dare that Jelena lady disrupt the natural order of his hometown. How dare she make life so difficult for future waves of idealistic pilgrims and converts, merely wanting to follow the Ancient Heroes of Yore on the path of their holy crusade? Oh, it just made the level 10 sewer guard/wayfarer tremble with righteous fury. It was surprising that he hadn¡¯t gotten a status effect on the Interface about it yet. In time, Deacon led the trio west, off the beaten path down a dusty dirt trail. The land grew a bit more arid off the pilgrim¡¯s path, as they blazed a new trail through the wilds. Within three hours of travel, they encountered their first beast that was unbranded by the Interface.
A snarling lycanthrope of some form drooled, ravenous, blocking a narrow path between two piles of basalt. Likely equivalent to a level-20 dire-werekin, but for the first time in Calaf¡¯s life, the Menu offered no guidance.
Name:
Title:
Level:
Status: A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Blank. All blank. Not like Jelena¡¯s situation ¨C this feral creature had never seen the blessings of the Menu. ¡°Careful,¡± Deacon warned. ¡°Unbranded creatures can vary in strength. There¡¯s no telling whether it¡¯s equivalent to a level twelve or level sixty until we engage.¡± The beast was standing in the way. There really was no way around him, regardless. So the party brandished their spears (and holy catalyst, in Deacon¡¯s case) and did battle. Combat against an unbaptized foe wasn¡¯t so different. The beast could engage in that dishonorable dodging, but for the most part the Menu¡¯s holy interface still forced the battlefield to conform to its methods in a way that gave its blessed warriors an advantage. For one, the feral monster had to rip and tear the old-fashioned way. It did not have access to the most-blessed critical hits. Neither did it have access to special techniques or skills. Truly, no unbranded foe could ever hold out against one leveled under the menu for very long. Calaf adopted his shield and spike technique. The were-beast raged, but could not get through the +2 to defense and increased poise of Calaf¡¯s new steel-studded defense. Another spear-thrust courtesy of Gorman left a gaping wound in the creature¡¯s chest. But it was a particularly large lycan, and one bleeding wound did not discourage it. Deacon mostly cast buffs upon the pair, keeping them shielded and maintaining a constant sparkling holy lightning on the tips of their steel spears. After several minutes of fierce fighting, the creature failed to take even a single sliver of HP from either of them (thanks to some steady shielding and barrier buffs courtesy of Deacon). The creature snarled, then looked for an exit. It broke off ¨C another action not sanctioned by the menu ¨C and attempted to escape up the rocky cliff at their flanks.
Deacon Casts: Paralyze! 33% Base Chance of Paralyzing Any Enemy Your Level or Below (or equivalent).
Great golden bolts surrounded the snarling creature, and it fell from its perch mid-climb. The lycan landed back on the dirt path with a thud, struggling against invisible binds. ¡°Okay, keep up your guard, we have no idea what these creatures are capable of.¡± Deacon approached the beast. Calaf and Gorman flanked the cleric, spears ready. Deacon began to mutter a prayer in some ancient clerical language unintelligible in comparison with the common tongue.
Deacon Casts: Brand Marks the Target¡¯s Bloodline with The Brand of the Church.
The paralyzed beast grew still. A circular welt or tattoo with a single sharp mark going down vertically through the circle symbol appeared on the beast¡¯s left claw. Pretty common place for it; same place where Calaf¡¯s brand was located, in fact. Why, the creature could no longer break itself away from the Menu¡¯s influence, not without taking its arm clean off.
Name: Direlycan
Title: Beast (Afflicted)
Level: 1
Status: 3/16 (Terrified and Woozy)
¡°Amen!¡± Deacon declared. Calaf was quite surprised to have prevailed against the mighty beast. It must have been a level 25-equivalent before the great Branding spell brought it under the Menu¡¯s grace, setting it to a proper starting level 1. But there would be no experience garnered from this beast. Deacon released his paralysis spell, and with a defeated whine the Direlycan ran off down the path and out of sight. Any descendants of this newly-converted beast would themselves be registered under the Menu. Bound by the Interface. And so it would be with every future generation, forevermore. Why, given enough time this first registered dire-lycan would eventually spread to all future lycan generations until this entire region¡¯s population was branded. That would take centuries though ¨C proper missionary work would have to be done to convert every beast of the field in this off-pilgrimage region to the Menu. If they stopped to brand every creature they ran across they¡¯d never make it to Plains Junction, let alone ever catch up with Jelena. So they did in fact just start cutting down beasts in their way for the experience, in time. Experience varied, and there was no gold from creatures not yet converted. But it was more than enough for Calaf to gain yet more levels. The next night was spent at camp in the field. Fire kept the unbranded away. At the end of that fourth night¡¯s travel, Calaf¡¯s stats were as thus:
Calaf: Level 12
Strength: 18
Endurance: 21
Agility: 14
Intelligence: 10
Charisma: 8
Arcane: 6
Luck: 21
Truly, the young guard did feel stronger under the menu. He felt his faith in its holy Interface growing with his increased strength.
Chapter Seven: Cooped Up
The trio arrived in a new town early the next day. They didn¡¯t even see it on the road ahead, and few maps, atlases, or itineraries existed off the pilgrim¡¯s path. The town was built into a natural depression in the jagged ground. Like a pit. At the bottom, a natural spring bubbled up out of the arid dirt. Some kind of primitive irrigation system siphoned water up to various plots of land. ¡°Hmmm. An unconverted town,¡± said Calaf. ¡°So close to the pilgrimage route?¡± ¡°The Church is open to all. But, naturally, the lands tread by the Heroes of Yore take priority,¡± said Deacon. ¡°There¡¯s simply not been an opportunity to do missionary work in this land, yet-unblessed by the Interface.¡± The houses of this hovel were small, made of thatched roofs and some form of raw, unprocessed cement. The trio walked into town without a welcome. Indeed, it was a while before they encountered anyone at all. ¡°Who¡¯re you, then?¡± inquired a dirt farmer. ¡°Greetings, unbaptized citizen,¡± Deacon said. ¡°We are travelers ¨C official seekers of the church. On an important mission that requires circumventing the grand pilgrimage route.¡± ¡°The who from the wha?¡± asked the dirt farmer. ¡°Why, from the Holy Church of the Menu.¡± Deacon performed a professional and polite church bow. ¡°We¡¯re barely a day off the pilgrimage route,¡± Calaf said. ¡°To think that people here wouldn¡¯t know about the church.¡± No knowledge of the church meant no knowledge of the System or its Menu! Why, these dirt farmers had to toil day in and day out to siphon water up from the well. Were they simply baptized, they¡¯d be able to utilize the divine power of the Interface to add water to their inventory and apply it to their crops with minimal hassle. Why, this dusty hovel could be as fertile as Riverglen with just a bit of Menucraft. No inns. Minimal smithing capabilities. Truly, this was a desolate place. ¡°Name¡¯s Vault,¡± said the dirt farmer. ¡°The town, I mean. ¡¯Cause it¡¯s all couped up in the pit ya?¡± ¡°Oh poor, beleaguered dirt farmer,¡± said Calaf. ¡°Won¡¯t you accept the Interface into your heart? Why, through the Menu all things are possible.¡± ¡°The who ¡®n what? Ain¡¯t never heard of it.¡± Deacon held up a consoling hand, urging Calaf to silence. ¡°Alas, we prioritize missionary work on areas visited by the Heroes of Yore,¡± said Deacon with a tinge of regret. ¡°The who¡¯n what?¡± asked the farmer. Indeed, a small crowd of similarly accented farmers approached. Calaf tried his best to translate their rather guttural accent in his mind. ¡°Why, the Ancient Heroes of Yore,¡± said Deacon. ¡°Gather around, for all should hear the tale of the heroes who blessed the world with the divine glory of the Menu.¡± ¡°Oh, we¡¯re going to be here awhile,¡± Gorman said with a yawn. ¡°It was centuries ago when four unassuming adventurers discovered the divine grace of the Interface in a dire-scorpion cave far to the south. There were four of them in all: The Knight, first Paladin of the Church. Just a lowly Shielder at the time.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a Paladin?¡± asked another dirt farmer. ¡°Why, even our noble Calaf here classed into Shielder and is well on his way to respeccing into Knight.¡± Deacon used Calaf as a prop. ¡°The besainted Paladin gave his life in the battle against the demon king, but his fellow travelers helped to immortalize his role through the ages. To this day, every cathedral is consecrated in his holy name.¡± ¡°Your bloke died?¡± asked a farmer. ¡°Well, that¡¯s unfortunate ain¡¯t it. If me and the guys from the pub were around to back him up I¡¯m sure it wouldn¡¯t have gone down like that.¡± ¡°The Cleric. Founder of the Church. The team healer. Started as a lowly porter and herbalist, carrying antidotes and vials of potions. The Menu, in its divine grace, did grant her healing spells by which she carried the Heroes through the wilds of Firefield. With the ancient demon lord of olde defeated, it was she who spread the church''s teachings and converted even the beasts of the field into the Menu¡¯s fold.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Why, I¡¯m a porter,¡± said a water-fetching wench. ¡°Indeed. Truly the Ancient Heroes of Yore came from the humblest of origins.¡± Deacon clasped his hands in prayer. ¡°Third, there was the Battlemage. Master of blade and magic both. It was he who perfected most forms of combat under the Menu.¡± ¡°Swords and magic? Oooh, could he blast ¡®em with lightning then stab ¡®em?¡± asked another farmer. With the Vaultian accent ¡®lightning¡¯ sounded a bit more like ¡®loightning.¡¯ ¡°Indeed. Level up under the menu and class into a mage or fighter between level three and five and even you too could one day be a battlemage,¡± said Gorman. ¡°That¡¯s my plan at least.¡± ¡°And lastly, The Scout. Nimble of foot and more tuned for agility and sly shenanigans than straight-up fights,¡± said Deacon. ¡°Oooh This here¡¯s ringing a bell,¡± said that first dirt farmer. ¡°Me ma put down bedtime stories about some bloke what came down from the hills and looked about for a few days. Said he was searchin¡¯ for a route to the Demon King¡¯s Lair. Whatever that is.¡± ¡°Ooh?¡± That got Deacon¡¯s attention. ¡°Why, the heroes did stay in Granite Pass for a bit to confirm the fastest route to their target. It sounds like the noble Scout may have stopped by here for a time, only to settle on the northerly route through the forests.¡± ¡°Ya. Didn¡¯t call ¡®imself a scout though. It was sumpthin¡¯ else. Think Moira¡¯s still got his flagon behind a pane ¡®o glass. He was quite the drinker that one,¡± Deacon eyed the dirt farmer with a raised brow. ¡°Oh. You have an article of the faith? A relic from the old heroes?¡± ¡°Yep. Somethin¡¯ like that. Get lost tourists from out east what gawk at it sometimes.¡± ¡°May I see it?¡± ¡°Er, sure suppose she¡¯ll let you take the ol¡¯ gander. It¡¯s quite old but safe behind the glass. Quite good for ganderin¡¯ if I don¡¯t say so myself.¡±
Without further ado, Deacon convinced the dirt farmers to lead him to their pub, by which they meant a particularly large concrete-and-thatch hut at the edge of the sinkhole. ¡°There it is.¡± A farmer motioned to a positively filthy mug beneath a foggy glass pane.
Item: Ye Olde Mug Description: A mug of the Thief. Kept as a conversation piece.
¡°Hmmm. Yes, it is said that the Scout was quite adept at drinking.¡± Deacon scratched at his chin ¡°If this is legitimate¡­¡± Deacon produced his miracle catalyst and performed some utility spell or another. He gasped, and then he threw his hands up. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ the Holy Flagon of the Scout!¡± There were gasps throughout the pub, though few knew what that meant. ¡°Ay, he didn¡¯t call himself no Scout tho,¡± said that very first dirt farmer. ¡°It was Thief somethin¡¯. Didn¡¯t thieve anything from us though he just said burglarizing was his occupation somewhere south. Riverview or something I dunno. That¡¯s what ma used to say.¡± Deacon frowned subtly. ¡°The scriptures are clear. His profession was Scout. Thievery is immoral, the Old Hero of Yore could never partake in it. Any mentions of a ¡®Thief¡¯ among the heroes is merely a mistranslation. These old legends can warp especially in oral retellings. The important thing is that the church¡¯s scriptures are perfectly accurate and infallible in every way. And this, is the Flagon of the Scout, blessed be.¡± ¡°Ay. Blessed be the Thief or Scout or whomever he was. Regular hometown hero he was.¡±
With their cleric¡¯s blessing, this holy relic ¨C the Flagon of the Scout ¨C would serve as a level anchor. This would, once the local animal population was baptized, help maintain them at a reasonable level delta. Perhaps one day, Vault could serve as an alternative pilgrimage path should the way through Granite Pass remain blocked indefinitely. Deacon spent long hours into the night converting the populace. Branding them (and by extension, their children, grandchildren, and so on forever more) with the Brand of the Interface, allowing them to level up under the Menu and granting them access to the System Interface (blessed be its UI). By ten at night, basically the entire village was converted. The next morning, he began to teach the newly converted how to perform their crop-farming duties via the Menu. They started off at level 1 of course. But townsfolk seldom needed massive combat skills in their day-to-day jobs. A sudden boon to the church. But it complicated their mission. ¡°I shall stay here, at least until additional clerical staff can properly set up a monastery in Vault,¡± Deacon said. ¡°The path north from here should skirt the mountains. You¡¯ll be able to see the alpine forests on their high plateau as you journey. And Plains Junction should be easy to spot from several days away.¡± The journey with just the two guardsmen would be perilous, no doubt. But Deacon was not yet done with his blessings. He presented¡­ the Flagon of the Thief in one hand and his catalyst in the other. He muttered a prayer out, holding them both aloft.
Special Prayer: Limitless Myriad Holy Blessings Description: Provides a non-stackable shield refreshing every hour that will block one (1) blow of any kind. Not applicable to magic attacks. Dispels after three days.
¡°This shall provide a holy shield blessing. Protecting you from at least one hit every hour,¡± Deacon explained. ¡°Thanks, I guess. If we stick to the path monsters shouldn¡¯t be too tough from here on out I hope. What¡¯re we going to do when we find this thief of yours?¡± Gorman asked. Deacon handed Calaf a letter. ¡°Present this to the city watch. They¡¯ll know what to do. And the Plains Junction has facilities by which they can alert the other pilgrimage stations. It¡¯s the easiest way to prevent this thievery from spreading. Go, and I will help this new township learn the ways of the Menu.¡± With little else to discuss, Calaf took the letter, ensured his brand-new steel weaponry didn¡¯t require any additional repairs per his interface, and continued onward.
Chapter Eight: Power Leveled
It was a three-day journey over coarse but manageable terrain back onto the pilgrim¡¯s path. Gorman took the time to resupply in Vault with some root veggies cultivated by the dirt farmers, so rations for the trip were no issue. The great, jagged peaks around Granite Pass gradually receded into the south, then out of sight at their backs. Across a particularly large canyon, they could now make out a coniferous pine forest. The next station along the pilgrimage was somewhere deep within ¨C but it was not the holy city of Deepwood that the pair was aiming for. ¡°I suppose Deacon will be assigning some church missionaries to Branding the creatures around Vault,¡± Calaf said after a time. ¡°Yep,¡± said Gorman, with a yawn. ¡°Hear it can take a while to get full saturation. Mostly they just let a critical mass of Branded creatures reproduce and eventually it spreads to the whole population after a generation or two.¡±
On the final day of Deacon¡¯s blessing, the canyon warped into a cascading series of falls. It then transformed into a narrow but fierce river, grew slower and wider, then reduced to a minor trickle easy enough to wade over while barely getting one¡¯s feet wet all in a span of a few miles. Calaf and Gorman crossed over. Already the mood seemed lighter. They were in the plains ¨C every creature properly Branded and governed by the Menu. That said, the first flock of dire-doves they saw in the distance was already level 29! ¡°I suppose we did skip the natural leveling progression. Bypassed two and a half zones,¡± Calaf said. ¡°We still have that blessing for another couple of hours,¡± Gorman said. ¡°Stick to the path and we should not run into anything too terribly threatening.¡± The lower end of the Plains level structure was a little overleveled for Calaf but right around what Gorman would hunt for proper leveling rewards. Land in the plains was, per the name, flat like a pilgrim¡¯s bread rations. They could see the steeples of the local Plains Church of the Menu a full day¡¯s travel away. With no exterior wall to speak of, the outer suburbs of a sprawling town gradually came into view piece by piece. There were still miles of travel to go, the city inching ever closer but still quite far away. Not a single traveler was to be found on this west-east route. It was barely more than a footpath ¨C one being reclaimed by nature day by day. Nothing like the grand avenue that marked the pilgrim¡¯s path. And the land here was arid and sparse, where the north-south route at least skirted fertile river valleys. The sun was hanging low in the late afternoon. They had maybe another hour on the shield blessing. A great dust storm raged in a distant, dried-up riverbed. In fact, it snaked across the landscape wildly, far too quick and fierce to be some natural formation. Whirling sand blocked out the sun. ¡°That¡¯s a¡­¡± Gorman began. A great, scaled beast broke the surface of the sand.
Name: Dire-Worm
Rank: Legendary Beast, Beast
Level: 46
Status: 1706/1706 HP
¡°Level forty-six!?¡± Calaf said, though his voice was stifled to avoid making too much noise. Were they too late? Had their quarry already stolen the relics regulating this region? ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a legendary beast,¡± Gorman explained. ¡°They¡¯re usually a few levels above the region cap. Deacon probably could¡¯ve explained why, something to do with maintaining the ecosystem? Not worth engaging with just the two of us, either way, Maybe once we¡¯re in town we can come back with a group of sixteen or more and take it down.¡± No sooner had Gorman said this than did the Dire-Worm leap into the air with full force. Indeed, there was someone in its jaws. Someone wearing a leather duster and a particularly large and fragile-looking sword¡­ The Dire-Worm turned, and then slammed into the dried lakebed again at full force. The ground shook with the force of the blow, cracking the road ahead and sending Calaf and Gorman off-balance. The dust settled. A five-foot-six figure wielding a six-foot-six sword emerged.
Name: Walter, Arbiter, Most Holy Church of the Menu
Rank: Hunter
Level: 93This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Status: 1220/1245 HP (Flesh Wound)
All that, a full-force slam of a gaping, toothy maw of the Dire-Worm, and this figure hadn¡¯t dropped ten percent of their health. ¡°Level ninety-three!?¡± Calaf said, mouth agape. Why, he¡¯d hardly met anyone above level 70 before. They didn¡¯t typically have reason to stick around Riverglen, what with the Rat Kings offering only a pittance of experience past level twenty or so. Church clerics stopped by the cathedral of course, but even among their number there weren¡¯t more than two dozen clerics above level 90. And most of those were archbishops and the hallowed and immaculate archpope, spiritual heir to the Cleric of the ancient heroes. The Arbiter of the Church swung his overlarge sword with his off-hand, slicing and dicing the dire-worm all along its face.
Name: Dire-Worm
Status: 1075/1706 HP
Such strength, and the hunter was hardly trying. But the creature wasn¡¯t done yet.
Special Technique: Bile Spew Effect: Barf up refuse, filling the immediate surroundings with toxic sludge.
Sickly purple sludge spewed forth from the beast, covering the entire floor of the lakebed with radioactive nonsense so sickly and terrible that it hurt just to look at it. To wade through the stuff would inflict such a horrible poison that only the highest-level cleric spells could possibly dispel it. Only, Walter was nowhere to be found. Gorman pointed up, and sure enough, there was a figure far in the air, maybe sixty feet, if not more, the sun gleaming off his sword.
Special Technique: Flying Leap Effect: Leap into the air, distance equal to 52% of user¡¯s Strength. (Attacks on the downswing have a multiplier based on velocity)
Special Technique: Two-Handed Stance Effect: Hold the Sword with Both Hands And Swing.
The sword hit the beast upside the head and kept slicing! Sickly purple fluid flowed from a head-to-whatever-Dire-Worms-had-on-the-other-side wound.
Name: Dire-Worm
Status: 152/1706 HP
A mighty blow! And yet, the creature¡¯s remaining HP was still well above the fiercest of high-level threats that Calaf would ever hope to be able to face. Walter, though, landed in the lakebed, which was now filled to its shores with toxic sludge. ¡°Oh, we have to back him up!¡± Calaf had already brandished his shield. ¡°Maybe we can at least tide him over with antidotes until we can get him back to town.¡± At the very least, they needed this guy up and fighting long enough to finish off this Dire-Worm. It had noticed the pair, and coiled its segmented body up, ready to lunge at them. Calaf¡¯s mere steel shield wasn¡¯t going to cut it.
Calaf Uses: Quadruple Thrust Effect: Stab the nearest target x4.
Sickly purple ooze coated Calaf¡¯s spear tip. Still, the beast would not stop:
Name: Dire-Worm
Status: 149/1706 HP
All that for three hit points. The creature prepared to wretch up more bile. Only then, it thrashed in pain. Hit notification after hit notification blared, so fast the Menu couldn¡¯t keep up with it all. Then, after another flying leap:
Special Technique: One Big Swing Effect: One Full-Force, Two-Handed Swing.
The Dire-Worm paused, deathly still. And then¡­
Name: Dire-Worm
Status: -233/1706 HP (Bisected Lengthwise)
Each individual segment of this worm likewise fell apart, most landing in the miasmatic lakebed. Walter held a hand up. ¡°Each segment must be disintegrated, or it will grow into a new, stronger Dire-Worm.¡±
Church Approved Forbidden Magic: Giga-Smite Effect: Arc of Fell Lightning Reducing All Chained Targets to Ash.
A green bolt arced to the two halves of the worm¡¯s mouth, then to the next segment, then to the next from head down to the tail. Each segment poofed away into a pile of ash in an instant. The lightning hit the tail¡­ and then arced towards Calaf and Gorman! Their holy shield tanked the blow, then dissipated once and for all. They were safe¡­ but only because of Deacon¡¯s blessing from several days in the past. Another hour or two later and they¡¯d have joined the worm as ash piles! ¡°Hey!¡± Gorman said. ¡°You¡¯re clearly a highly experienced battlemage. So, you ought to know better not to sling your spells around like that. You could¡¯ve killed us just now.¡± ¡°You had a shield,¡± said the arbiter, implacable. ¡°Are you sanctioned by the church?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°What is it that you do here?¡± ¡°I hunt,¡± Walter said. Walter¡¯s extra-long sword was impaled in the ground. He pulled it out and wiped toxic bile off with a swift swing. Despite having just emerged from a lakebed of toxic sludge, Walter was not poisoned. He must have prodigious Effect Resistance. ¡°Do you normally stick around the plains?¡± Gorman asked. ¡°I come down once every three months to cull the legendary beasts,¡± he said. ¡°Safer than sending teams of at-level pilgrims to do it.¡± Walter looked up into the air expectantly. ¡°Hmmm. There¡¯s always a delay when felling beasts that require disintegration. Should be coming soon¡­¡± And then¡­
Item Obtained:
Ash of the Dire-Worm x12 Worm Hide (Destroyed) x3
Gold x 20560 Experience: 999 xp.
Even split three ways, this was enough gold for Calaf to replace his entire kit ¨C again! And the experience¡­ Level up! Level-Level up! Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 16
Strength: 24 (+6)
Endurance: 32 (+11)
Agility: 15 (+1)
Intelligence: 10 (+0)
Charisma: 10 (+2)
Arcane: 5 (+0)
Luck: 21 (+4)
Already, Calaf¡¯s stat distribution was conforming to a sheilder class. The first commitment on the road to Paladin. Still a little under leveled for the plains, but he was that much closer to catching up. Gorman, too, had leveled up approximately twice. Walter, though, seemed to consider the gains of gold and experience to both be a relative pittance for his level. ¡°Good arbiter of the church,¡± Calaf raised a hand in salute. ¡°Would you be so kind to accompany us back to town? We are on an important mission from Riverglen¡­¡± ¡°Bring it up with the city watch.¡± Walter took off walking to the north, off any beaten path. ¡°You¡¯re not going back to Plain¡¯s Junction?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in Fellmarsh.¡± What an interesting person. Why, if this church arbiter had merely escorted them to town, they¡¯d have nothing to fear at all. And if he could¡¯ve accompanied them on their quest, then, Jelena wouldn¡¯t have lasted half a turn against that gargantuan blade.
Chapter Nine: Shield Hero
All roads led to Plains Junction, though some were larger than others. The city was split in half by the Grand Pilgrimage route: a wide avenue made of hefty stone bricks, piled so tightly they did not need cement. Whereas Riverglen was simple wood and brick houses surrounded by sturdy wall, and Granite Pass was a small but sturdy hovel carved into its namesake, the Junction contained buildings of all sorts, material sourced from all over. Wood hauled up from Twelfthnight. Limestone transported downriver from Firefield. Markets along the pilgrimage route offered fish from the coastal river delta. The odd decorative flame-colored tree hailed from far-off Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. And the grand cathedrals of the central church district aped architectural styles from the Olde Capital. It was the entire pilgrimage in miniature, really. And the first time Calaf saw it was by passing through a relatively sleepy residential district. Modest houses were separated from the endless high plains by some squat brick walls barely perceptible from the road and meant more for privacy than protection. No guards manned the wall, not that it was tall enough to walk upon. And there were no grand gatehouses ¨C just many gaps in the fencing for the many avenues out of town. It wasn¡¯t until Calaf and Gorman reached the cathedral district at the intersection of the four main roads that they even saw a fellow guard.
Name: Ivan, Plains Junction City Watch
Rank: Squire
Level: 47
Status: 355/355
Weapons: Fine Plains Polearm +2
Squire, a higher-up class on the path to Paladin. Even Ivan the basic sentry was a higher level than any guard captain in Riverglen! Calaf approached with confidence. ¡°Hello. We have been tasked with an urgent message vital to the sanctity of the Grand Pilgrimage.¡± The guard eyed them with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You two do seem a little under-leveled for the area. Church business is usually handled by their own couriers.¡± ¡°Check our Interface,¡± Calaf said. ¡°There was a deacon with us, but circumstances required us to part ways. We also skipped much of the pilgrimage path as there¡¯s a blockage in the route north of Granite Pass. ¡°South watch has been saying there¡¯s a sudden dearth of new travelers lately. How¡¯d you get here?¡± ¡°We went off the path?¡± ¡°Off the what now?¡± The guard stared, incredulous. ¡°Nobody ever goes off the path. There¡¯s nothin¡¯ there. Don¡¯t even get gold for any monsters you kill.¡± ¡°And we would not have broken the holy sequence if could have possibly been avoided.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°But in doing so we found a holy artifact of the Heroes of Yore. One that brought the region into compliance with the church and converted the local populace.¡± ¡°Ey, but, will anyone bother going out there?¡± Ivan the guard nodded off west. ¡°Nothin¡¯ out there. Why not just stick to the path?¡± ¡°I¡­ look, I¡¯m sure adherents to the Scout class will find their ancient patron hero¡¯s flagon to be a fascinating religious relic. Now¡­ may we provide this letter from a cloistered church deacon to the bishop of these lands?¡± Ivan peered into the pair¡¯s Interface. Just one look at ¡®Seeker of the Church¡¯ and he let out a whistle. ¡°Wow, you all have a fancy title. Around here we¡¯re all just guards.¡± ¡°We were guards once,¡± Gorman said, then yawned. ¡°Sewer guards.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°At the first station of the holy pilgrimage.¡± ¡°Oooh yeah, I remember doing that. Never made it further than Plains Junction though. Hence why I¡¯m here.¡± Everyone had their own limits to the journey. The minimum route was Riverglen to Twelfthnight that all converts and initiates were expected to partake in. But the route could be taken multiple times, and even encouraged depending on the level requirements of one¡¯s station. Ivan waved the pair through to the Cathedral at the Junction, the largest building in the city. Impossible to miss. Even these official agents of the church on a divine quest from a ranking church deacon were not granted an audience with the local bishop. Instead, they were shunted off to more of an elderly old friar who read Deacon¡¯s sealed letter. ¡°Oh. Relic thievery. Oh, my indeed,¡± said the friar. ¡°That would explain why no news has made it from south of Deepwood. This phenomenon has not been seen north of Granite Pass, at least.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°So, our quest is at its end?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Hmmm. Yes, something like that,¡± said the friar. ¡°Worry not. I¡¯ll just copy over this message and send it to every other settlement on the line.¡± The friar opened his Menu and¡­
Friar Fred Casts: Duplicate Effect: Make a Perfect Copy of Any Inventory Item. (x5)
And¡­
Friar Fred Casts: Duplicate Effect: Make a Perfect Copy of Any Inventory Item. (x5)
Deacon¡¯s message was, in an instant, turned into eleven identical letters, each sealed again by the friar. More than enough to send to every major city on the pilgrimage route with the original copy to remain posted at the junction. ¡°All of the church will soon know about this relic thief ¨C Jelena, was it? It will be impossible for her to show her face anywhere along the route.¡± ¡°Do you have some kind of high-level teleportation spell to whisk these letters to the other cathedrals?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Oh, heavens no.¡± The friar walked off towards one of the cathedral belfries at a leisurely pace. ¡°Otherwise, your deacon friend could have simply warped the letter to us, yes?¡± Their slow stroll brought the group to a rookery. Dozens upon dozens of level 12 domesticated dire-pigeons sat in nests, specialized latches on their filed-dull talons. ¡°Each of these is trained to return to the nest of its birth,¡± the friar explained. ¡°They¡¯ll arrive at each station within a day or two.¡± It took about fifteen minutes for this old friar to wrangle each dire-pigeon, affix the message to them, and set them on their way. So, that was that. Calaf breathed a sigh of relief. His quest was finished. ¡°Oh, the Bishop of Plains Junction bestows you with this,¡± said the friar, then pulled up the ¡®trade¡¯ menu. What Calaf (and Gorman, in a separate trade) received was thus:
Item: Mark Of Quest Completion Effect: When Used, Grants 500 XP and 3000 gold.
Another massive sum for Calaf¡¯s growing treasure horde. What¡¯s more, it was just about enough to grant Calaf his next level and push him to the level beyond once used. Its high time to visit the cathedral shrine of the Paladin, Calaf thought. ¡°Whatever will you two do now?¡± Asked the friar. ¡°Well, I suppose we¡¯ll need to get back to Riverglen,¡± Gorman said. ¡°Not much of a rush. Sewers are closed until the relics are retrieved. But I¡¯m sure the guards and deacons up here will be able to find an apostate in no time. Still, can only imagine how many Rat Kings are filling up the sewer by now¡­¡± ¡°Be sure to visit the shrine of the cleric to bless your travels,¡± said the friar. Certainly, doubling back to Vault would be no good. They wouldn¡¯t get any gold and but half the experience off-route. Heading back towards the start of the pilgrim¡¯s path would give them the opportunity to flex their new levels. Those double-leveled enemies besieging the Granite Pass gate would scarcely be more than a roadblock for the pair after a few days march through the plains and on through Deepwood. There were three more reasons that Calaf wanted to travel backwards along the pilgrim¡¯s path. The first was quite innocuous: Deepwood was an amazingly beautiful locale he¡¯d love to visit for a second time. The second: a direct route following the line would bring him back to his dearest Charlotte once more. He definitely wanted to see her reaction to how many new levels he¡¯d gained. Third, the relic thieves had yet to steal the Plains reliquary. This likely meant that they hadn¡¯t made it through Deepwood and Twelfthnight yet. Which meant that there was a chance, however slight, that the relic thieves and relic-saving questors could potentially meet.
The pair would stay in another inn until the next day, then head south. Calaf visited the shrine of the Paladin, located in a sleepy alcove in a cathedral annex. The shrine was for the martyred hero. Patron of Shielder units. Calaf prepared his Mark of Quest Completion. He accessed it in Menu > Item > Misc, then thumbed down in the Blessed Interface and selected ¡®Use¡¯. Five hundred XP arrived in an instant. In conjunction with the various battles, he¡¯d encountered since that bout with the dire-worm, topped him up to level 17, then spilled juuuuust over to level 18, with only 5 xp of the required 550 experience for the level after that. Level u- Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 18
Strength: 29 (+1)
Endurance: 38 (+2)
Agility: 18 (+2)
Intelligence: 12 (+0)
Charisma: 10 (+0)
Arcane: 6 (+1)
The saints who governed level-up stat distribution had not quite been with him these past two levels. And yet, level 18 was enough for his purposes. Calaf knelt before the statue of the paladin, all identifying marks covered in hefty armor. It would be another forty-plus levels before Calaf could ever dream of wearing such sturdy equipment. As an initiate, Calaf had started right at level one. He was not a convert but from a long family line Branded in the time of heroes. He descended into the sewers some years ago, same as every other initiate beginning their climb through the church-sanctioned levels, and just like the numerous converts who took the brand every year. He¡¯d gained his first level just outside of Riverglen. At level three, in the tiny old shrine of the Paladin in Granite Pass, he¡¯d reclassed into Shielder. Reclassing was a permanent step. Until the commitment to one of the patron heroes¡¯ paths, someone could strive to become a paladin or cleric or battlemage or scout. But once this first commitment was made, the path was set. Shielders prioritized endurance upon leveling up. Perfect for city watch and sewer guards. Indeed, most of the guards around the various cities were on this path. It was time to reclass once more. Calaf thought about his journey thus far. He closed his eyes and then held a hand out towards the statue of the Paladin. The blessed statue imbued him with holy light. He could feel the change even before the title became official in the Menu.
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer (Pilgrim)
Rank: Stalwart, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 18
Status: 78/78 (Healthy)
At long last, he was a Stalwart! Second class on the path to Paladin. There was still a long road ahead. And he¡¯d need to gain levels in Charisma and Intelligence to aid in adhering to knightly chivalry and holy magic, respectively. Not a priority as a mere Shielder, but certainly the stat distribution changed as he moved up the ranks. Alas, many of his early ranks randomly distributed themselves into Luck. Not a bad stat to have by any means, but more common among Scouts, and usually not prioritized by the Menu¡¯s distributions until higher ranks. Calaf said one last prayer before leaving the Shrine of the Martyred Paladin. He felt stronger already, more ready to take on the heresy that had sent him back down the pilgrims¡¯ road.
Chapter Ten: Twelthnight
Traveling backwards along the pilgrimage path was not unheard of. Indeed, pilgrims did in fact have to head back towards their hometowns once they reached the end of their journey. Pious peasants and shopkeepers hardly needed to be more than level ten. So a steady supply of Pilgrim Guards funded by the church patrolled the route, shepherding those not yet blessed with at-level gear back down the path. It was not so essential service at the southern end of the line, but was a literal lifesaver once north of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. Monsters and beasts were only modestly tamed by their menu Brands. But that didn¡¯t mean they were suicidal. Attacks against convoys of 30 or more pilgrims with armed guards were the domain of goblins, bandits, and legendary beasts. Calaf and Gorman signed on for a pilgrim guard position heading to Twelfthnight at least. Just two spearmen at the back of a pack of folks from the woodlands. ¡°Thinking of swapping my spear out for a longsword,¡± Gorman said on the long road up into the wooded highlands. ¡°Maybe an estoc or something.¡± ¡°Well, that would be more viable for a battlemage,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Maybe not ideal for the sewers.¡± Requirements for guard uniforms and equipment were pretty strict. ¡°Yeah.¡± Gorman shielded his forehead from the sun. ¡°Just more around town. Out in the field.¡± ¡°Thinking of traveling the pilgrimage route again?¡± Calaf asked. There wasn¡¯t a cloud in the sky. Temperatures would drop a bit in the hills but from early morning to noon the plains only grew more stifling, especially in full armor. ¡°Eh. A lot of effort. Still, the extra experience we¡¯ve got now is nice.¡± Gorman slapped a stray rock on the path aside with his spear. ¡°Overleveled for the sewers really.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll need it to clear all those Rat Kings out.¡± So much of traveling the pilgrimage path in a large group was just marching. Walking dead ahead of the pilgrim in front of you. And it was even worse on the off season; it had been like this on Calaf¡¯s initial pilgrimage. A full line of faithful from one station to the next, day after day. Maybe it had been more bearable when he was an optimistic and bright-eyed level 1-6, or perhaps the path was simply more pleasant in ideal weather. Even experience was minimal in such a large group. Being split thirty-plus ways meant any gold or experience they did get from any hapless monsters who happened to cross their path was a pittance ¨C and they were headed into a region with a lower level range, reducing rewards further. It was the safest possible way to travel, but one that took the edge off of any sense of adventure. More than once, Calaf found himself glancing north again. He could still see the junction, particularly with the road tilting upwards into the highlands. Maybe he¡¯d go on another pilgrimage soon, one where he was properly leveled, taking his time in each zone. It was the ultimate goal of the church faithful. And he always wanted to see the sands of Firefield, the beauty of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, and the mysterious ruins of the Olde Capital. Why, even braving the Fellmarsh to be one of the few non-clerical faithful to view the grandest cathedral at the site of the Demon King¡¯s Fall would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, the kind of thing that the grandchildren would inquire about before they, too, departed on their pilgrimage.
Ah, a spattering of trees cropped up as they ventured further south, bringing much needed shade to protect the pilgrims from this dry heat. A full day¡¯s march was sufficient for traveling between Plains Junction and Twelfthnight. Most of the trouble was a result of walking uphill. The journey northwards was even easier, being downhill. Night had fallen by the time the group stumbled into Twelfthnight. What they discovered was a quaint and small mountain town amidst squat and piney trees. Somewhat underwhelming compared to the metropolitan junction or the massive trees of Deepwood further south. Still, the cozy hamlet had a certain romantic quality to it, particularly around some much-advertised hot springs deep in a wooded copse. The pilgrimage convoy had lodging prepaid, courtesy of the church. They were all going to pile into one of a handful of inns in the town. When they reached the central square, however, they found a gaggle of clerics walking down the path from the south. ¡°We have cleared all roadblocks from the road north of Granite Pass,¡± announced a cleric, level 45. ¡°The way is clear. The path free of threats and monsters, patrolled by midlevel priests, between here and Riverglen.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Suddenly, the pilgrim guards were out of jobs. The convoy disbanded for all purposes other than that night¡¯s lodging reservations. After everyone dispersed for the inns, Calaf and Gorman approached these priests. ¡°We were the first group of messengers tasked with delivering warning of the leveling disruptions to the rest of the path,¡± Calaf said. ¡°What news do you have of the relic thieves?¡± The clerics raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°You are not agents of the church. Were you escorting a priest with official orders?¡± ¡°Well¡­ we were seekers.¡± Calaf shuffled around, uneasy. "It was part of our Menu titles and everything." They¡¯d lost the titles with the completion of their quest. Now Calaf was just ¡®caravan guard,¡¯ replacing the even more generic ¡®wayfarer¡¯. ¡°Did Deepwood receive word from a Friar Fred of Plains Junction?¡± Gorman asked, not terribly interested but having sensed Calaf¡¯s trepidation. ¡°Yes, we received it last evening, then marshaled a response force from the local cathedral and cloister to head south and clear the path to Granite Pass. A force of clerics from another cloister had likewise cleared the path north from Riverglen. From there, we reinforced the route with well-leveled clerics and marched north.¡± ¡°So, the leveling issues¡­¡± ¡°¡­ persist in the region directly adjacent to Granite Pass and throughout Riverglen.¡± The cleric nodded. Calaf grimaced. He was hoping they¡¯d found and apprehended the thieves that were responsible for this. ¡°There¡¯s a murder and relic thief who has stolen the relics that set these level ranges,¡± Calaf explained. ¡°Have you not found any signs of her?¡± ¡°There¡¯s been no signs of anyone matching the thieves¡¯ descriptions all week in Deepwood. The reliquary there is guarded twenty-four-seven. If this thief tries anything, we¡¯ll find her.¡± There¡¯d been no signs of Jelena near Deepwood. Meaning she was either still there trying to find a way to rob the well-guarded reliquary. Or¡­ perhaps, she¡¯d skipped Deepwood for whatever reason. They¡¯d passed nobody on the road all day ¨C no doubt a continued effect of the pilgrimage disruptions. But perhaps¡­
Calaf waited in a crowded inn, surrounded by pilgrims who would all be traveling alone down the safe and well-patrolled route back to Deepwood or Riverglen. The inn was small, one of many that were built specifically for pilgrims. It was another thing he hadn¡¯t noticed as a novice years before, but the smaller towns were largely dwarfed, consumed by their role as stations on the path. The junction and Riverglen didn¡¯t have that problem, as they had trading and agricultural reasons for being. But this place? It would never have existed had it not happened to be a place where the Ancient Heroes of Yore spent days twelve through fourteen of their journey. Just before midnight, Calaf determined that he wasn¡¯t going to get much sleep tonight. The room was too stifling, Gorman¡¯s snores too loud. The church-sanctioned seeker-turned-caravan-guard-turned plain wayfarer walked out into the cool mountain¡¯s night air. Twelfthnight itself was lightless, guests and citizens both retiring to their hovels well before sundown. Only the full moon lit the path. Calaf took a walk, savoring the crisp air. Plains Junction proved too dusty in retrospect. But this? Just right. Maybe he should accompany dearest Charlotte on her next pilgrimage. She went on them all the time, hence the surprising level delta between the fianc¨¦s. Well, it wouldn¡¯t be quite so large of a delta by the time he reached the riverlands again. Hopefully the betrothal wouldn¡¯t give them strange looks any longer. Why, a prim and proper deaconess, promising her hand to a novice guard? It was scarcely heard of. Now that he had some experience under his belt, he ought to be much more favored by all those deacons who doubt his adherence to the Interface. And of course, Calaf was still hoping that his quest for the church would cause the organization to even move up the date of their destined wedding. The rather dumbfounded and dismissive comment by that cleric this evening hadn¡¯t quite been the roaring congratulations he was hoping for, but still he had faith. It was in this headspace that Calaf walked through rows of trees, and dozens and dozens of tents. The inns near the town square and shrines were inadequate to meet the pilgrims¡¯ demand even in this, the lowest traffic of off season. So, most pilgrims just took to camping outside, like the old heroes would have done. A distinct scent wafted in on some steam. This part of the highlands was famous for some volcanic mountain springs. They were quite pleasant to bathe in, apparently. Calaf walked down some wooden steps into a natural depression worn into the very rock. A set of five springs awaited, quiet, and mostly not in use at this time of night. Maybe a quick dip would clear his mind. Fog obscured most of the springs. He gradually unequipped his armor starting with the gauntlets. Didn¡¯t get very far when he heard the sound¡­ A clink of metal. A gleam of moonlight off a ruby, beset in a gold frame. Calaf knew the look and shape of that object intrinsically ¨C the personal miracle catalyst of Yordan, Pryor of Riverglen, and Calaf¡¯s own foster father. A figure with curly hair done up in a special bonnet to keep it all dry was tossing the holy item around in her hand, clinking it together with the holy leveling bauble stolen from the Granite Pass vaults! A steam-obscured menu prompt confirmed what Calaf already knew:
Name: Jelena TnOdRaTU
All else was blurred out, as before. Jelena, her last name unknowable as she¡¯d forsaken the blessing of the Menu! Jelena, the heretical relic thief. Jelena, his foe. His reason for being on this quest. Newfound conviction filled the Stalwart. He¡¯d gained several levels, even reclassed since the last time they fought. The time to strike was now. Calaf leapt into heel-deep water. It was pleasantly warm, particularly against the crisp mountain breeze that surrounded the spring. Jelena awaited, relics in both hands, chest deep in the mountain spring. Modesty protected only by the thick steam wafting off the spring waters, and a well-placed arm. The heretic scowled, brown eyes locked with Calaf¡¯s emerald. ¡°S-seriously!?¡± She frowned, sinking a bit lower in the water.
Chapter Eleven: Un-Menu-ly Warfare
Jelena. The relic thief. The murderer of the kindly old Pryor who¡¯d raised Calaf from orphanhood and put him on this path of the faithful. The heretic who¡¯d put the entire pilgrimage at risk. Jelena. Last name started with a T. That¡¯s all anyone knew. Her identifier was scrambled in the Interface due to some heretical rejection of the Holy Menu. And here she was. Wearing her eyepatch, that hair bonnet, and nothing else. The relic thief dipped lower into the hot spring; lips angled downward in a slight frown. She had not at all expected to be apprehended like this. ¡°I have you now, you murderous fiend!¡± Calaf declared with his chest puffed out. Jelena¡¯s cheeks flushed a dark shade. She averted her eyes. ¡°You, uh, really going to arrest me in the bath?¡± So caught up in righteous fury was Calaf that he¡¯d barely registered the transgression. ¡°I¡­¡± Calaf looked at her face, then down into the oh-so reflective water. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t see you playing fair in our fight not but a week ago! Surrender, knave, or it¡¯ll be the spear point for you!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± The lower half of her face morphed into a deep frown. ¡°Awfully dishonorable, confronting a lady as she bathes. Not very chivalrous.¡± While the heretical fiend herself may have forsaken the Holy Interface, her personal effects could still be examined. One such Menu appeared as Calaf deftly looked anywhere but below her neckline:
Item: Silky Bonnet of Waterproofing Description: Protects maiden¡¯s and less-than-maiden¡¯s luscious curly hair from the ravages of flowing water. CHR -2, END +1 specifically for hair when properly tucked into the bonnet.
¡°Well¡­¡± now it was Calaf¡¯s turn to blush. ¡°Even so, at least I know you are not armed.¡± ¡°You got a fianc¨¦?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°A betrothed. Back in Riverglen?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± Calaf¡¯s thoughts turned to Deaconess Charlotte. ¡°Of course you do.¡± Jelena¡¯s eyes darted up and around, remembering something. She grimaced ¨C it must have been an unpleasant memory. ¡°Sooo, would you want your dear betrothed to know that your eyes first laid on my naked, heretical form rather than hers?¡± ¡°I am not either laying eyes on anyone¡¯s heretical form!¡± Calaf scowled. But it apparently told Jelena all she needed to know. ¡°Didn¡¯t think so. Well, that¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen unless you at least let me get out of this bath and get dressed¡­¡± ¡°You have¡­¡± Calaf looked at Jelena, looked away, then glanced back. ¡°¡­ three minutes. Hurry up.¡±
Calaf turned around. There was a sloshing sound as Jelena emerged from the bath, and then quickly dried off. Calaf was paying attention ¨C audible only, of course ¨C as Jelena got dressed. Letting his foe get dressed and prepared was potentially foolish. But chivalry demanded it for any number of reasons. What kind of Paladin would he be in the future if he were to accost an unarmed and unclothed lady so? Yes, she was a heretic ¨C but she was also a woman. Not ¨C not that he was thinking anything about that right now, beyond what chivalry dictated. At the very least, he hadn¡¯t been stabbed in the back yet. Awfully decent of the honorless fiend. ¡°Ready, Hot Shot.¡± Calaf turned. Jelena was back in tight-knit and functional leathers. Water caused the outfit to cling to her admittedly bombshell-quality curvaceous body. Not¡­ not that Calaf was focusing on that or anything. Because he wasn¡¯t. A tied-up corset covered in pockets still allowed for a fair bit of movement while further accentuating those curves. She¡¯d have made a nice Scout class, to be honest. Her long boots were mismatched ¨C one ending just below the knee while the other was maybe a finger¡¯s length shorter. And she had fancy operatic church gloves ¨C no doubt pilfered right off the fingers of an innocent nun, the fiend! She hadn¡¯t gone for a knife or any other type of weapon. She¡¯d stashed her stolen relics of course. ¡°Your reign of terror ends here!¡± Calaf grabbed his spear with both hands. ¡°Reign of what now?¡± Jelena¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯ve plunged the pilgrimage route into chaos, you fiend. Terrorist! Your thefts from the holy reliquaries have been disrupting the level ranges of beast and bandit alike.¡± Jelena pulled out the relic she¡¯d taken out of Pryor Yordan¡¯s cold, dead hands. ¡°Is that so?¡± ¡°What, is that not what you wanted?¡± Impossible. Surely this was her purpose all along. She¡¯d intentionally blocked their way north at Granite Pass! ¡°So, it throws levels off?¡± Jelena looked at the bauble, then tossed it about in her hand. ¡°Huh. That¡­ was not my intent. Guess this thing is valuable, then?¡± ¡°Priceless,¡± Calaf said with a scowl. ¡°Hand it over, and submit yourself to the judgment of the Church, apostate!¡± ¡°Ah, well, you seem nicer than most,¡± Jelena said. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I will. Gotta make ends meet, see? And there¡¯s goanna be gaggles of faithful pilgrims who¡¯ll pay top gold for real, confirmed relics from the ancient heroes.¡± ¡°Huh. You¡¯ve done all this just to sell the relics back to pilgrims?¡± Calaf scowled harder still. ¡°Why¡­ why would you even tell me this?¡± Jelena shrugged. ¡°You seem reasonable. It¡¯s a rare quality for the god botherers. Plus, I¡¯d hate to have my good name sullied as some sort of terrorist.¡± Anger flared in Calaf¡¯s heart. He even gained a surprise buff:
Buff: Righteous Fury Effect: -5 to Dialogue-based categories; +10 to Combat. General debuff to agreeableness and reason. +15 to Overconfidence and Bravado.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Surely, there was no possible way he could lose! ¡°Have at you!¡± Calaf reared his spear back. A basic thrust, which Jelena dodged again. He knew this was coming. And while he had to rely on the stats of the Holy Menu, his opponent could just cheat. ¡°You killed the Pryor. My foster father. Have at you!¡±
Calaf uses: Triple Thrust Effect: Thrust Thrice, Damage Multipliers Increasing by 25% with each thrust.
Twice more, Jelena dodged. Then she dodged a third time and grabbed Calaf¡¯s spear. ¡°Hey. That¡¯s un-Menuly conduct,¡± Calaf said in indignant protest. They were at a stalemate: unarmed Jelena up close, Calaf¡¯s spear stultified. The relic thief smiled slyly. ¡°You hardly seem surprised that I¡¯d follow you all this way,¡± Calaf said. ¡°What? Because I killed the Pryor, right? Oh, it¡¯s as good a motivation as any.¡± Jelena¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s the same at every settlement. Pryors take in the local orphans of all those whose parents happened to die on the trail.¡± ¡°How would you know?¡± ¡°Eh, same way I knew you were betrothed. It¡¯s a pretty common church practice, yeah?¡± The pair continued to grapple over the spear. Calaf couldn¡¯t exactly take another jab at her so long as she was this close. He was beginning to see why higher levels carried a smaller offhand weapon. Calaf¡¯s shield remained on his back, where he¡¯d stashed it while two-handing the weapon. He reached around and¡­
Calaf Uses: Shield Bash! Effect: Attack With Shield. Low Damage, Potential to Stun.
More dishonorable dodging meant that Jelena was not hit by the bash, though it did force her to abandon her grip on the spear. She leapt backwards. ¡°All this time I was under the impression you were some radical out to bring ruin to the Interface.¡± Calaf thrusted again, which Jelena dodged. ¡°But in the end, you¡¯re just a petty thief.¡± ¡°Well, no rest for the wicked. Gold doesn¡¯t grow on trees, certainly not when you¡¯re unbranded.¡± Jelena shrugged mid-fight. ¡°Wasn¡¯t going to go much further up the path, but now that you mention how valuable these things are I¡¯m already formulating my next scam.¡±
Calaf Uses: Rushing Thrust! Effect: Rush Forward and Give a Full-Force Spear Thrust. Damage Modified by Distance Traveled in the Rushing Phase.
The damage and speed multipliers were far too high for anyone to dare dodge! So instead, Jelena merely ducked down on one knee, picked up a globule of mud that sat beside the hot spring, then threw it directly into Calaf¡¯s eyes.
Status: Blinded! Effect: -50% Modifier to All Accuracy
Well, he couldn¡¯t rightly hit what he couldn¡¯t see! Still, Calaf rushed forward. He sensed Jelena off somewhere to his right, then before he could react, he received a swift blow to the backside that sent him sprawling into the warm waters of the hot spring. Water flooded his armor. But at least he was only ankle-deep in the shallows. If he¡¯d been kicked into a deeper pool the situation would¡¯ve suddenly been dire. Still, Calaf waded out of the steaming water in a huff. His amused opponent was still there. ¡°You¡¯re not fleeing?¡± Calaf slowly, slowly waded back to high ground. ¡°Eh, it¡¯s funny watching you try so hard.¡± Something would have to be done to catch his opponent off guard. Potentially combat most unMenuly. The option for what Calaf wanted to do did not exist in the Interface. Alas, he would have to give penance for this lack of faith later. But for now, he turned off the Interface, hunched over, and delivered a shoulder bash into the thief¡¯s side. Not a maneuver the Menu would teach you. Jelena let out a most uncouth grunt as she stumbled back. Her eyepatch jostled out of place due to the force of the blow.
Name: Jelena TnOdRaTU
Status: ???/??? (-2 HP)
A hit. He¡¯d had to go off-Menu, but he¡¯d actually landed a hit. Even if it was scratch damage, Calaf¡¯s ego went wild. He let out a triumphant ¡®ha!¡¯ Both of Jelena¡¯s eyes were now unobstructed. One remained a rusty brown. The other was grey and glassy. The remnants of the Menu Brand circled the pupil. She really was blinded on one side. ¡°Hmmmph. You put out your eye brand. Blinded yourself, all just to forsake the many benefits of the Interface?¡± Calaf scowled. Jelena adjusted her eyepatch back into place. ¡°Doesn¡¯t exactly meld with the criminal lifestyle, yeah? Y¡¯know the priests and pryors can see a record of what¡¯s in your inventory right? There are no secrets, from anyone. Hell, pregnancy is a status effect.¡± ¡°Good. It keeps everyone on the honest and godly path!¡± ¡°Yeah, well, rest assured there are plenty of other strings attached.¡± Having been rebuffed by Calaf¡¯s shoulder charge, Jelena pulled out some matching, functional glass knives.
Item: Glass Knives (x2) Description: Knives of Dragonglass. Forged by an expert smith. Faster than any sword but generally weaker hit-for-hit.
Glass. A fragile material but, properly formed, the needle-tip sharp end would still be quite painful. More advanced than steel to be sure, albeit with drawbacks that leave steel the better all-around kit. Why, glasswork weaponry was a specialty somewhere down the pilgrimage route¡­ No time to dwell further. Calaf held his shield up as Jelena¡¯s knives raked against it. He looked for an opening, but true to form Jelena was never standing in the same position for terribly long. Neither could she get past his shield. Just then, when the battle had reached total stalemate, did Calaf hear a tell-tale whistling sound coming down the path to the springs.
¡°Hey there, what¡¯s all this then?¡± Gorman appeared, having traded his spear in for the longest sword that could reasonably be wielded one-handed, just like he¡¯d been talking about on the road. ¡°Ha! Outnumbered now!¡± Calaf declared, puffing his chest out with renewed vigor. ¡°You found her? Just, like this?¡± Gorman asked, sword drawn, as he rushed into the springs. ¡°Well, that¡¯s quite serendipitous. Bounty ought to more than pay for this sword.¡± Now it was Calaf¡¯s turn to don a cocky smile. ¡°Yield, thief. And perhaps the church will see fit to, in its mercy, reform you at a convent.¡± But Jelena didn¡¯t like that. Her cocky expression warped to a scowl. ¡°Oh dear, whatever will I do?¡± She asked. Her eyes darted to the stairs leading up out of the spring. All the while, Gorman used his battlemage abilities to prep a fireball. Magic was generally quite adept at frying anything bound by or unbound by the Menu. And yet Jelena didn¡¯t seem concerned. ¡°Gorman, behind you!¡± Calaf said. A greenish blur leaped from a nearby bush. It zeroed in on Gorman, who turned and blind-fired his rapidly developing fireball directly at this new foe.
Gorman Casts: Fireball Effect: First Level Fire Spell. Shoots A Ball of Flame. Scales off INT.
There was a flash of light, scorching heat, and half the springs were covered in thick smoke. Jelena took five massive steps back from the din, causing Calaf to rush forward.
Special Technique: Sure Strike Effect: One Full-Force Thrust With 100% Base Accuracy And x2 Damage.
But a green blur emerged from the smoke, leapt clear over Gorman, and landed between Calaf and Jelena. A lanky and bearded man with long, wild hair held a sword of jagged and fire-colored red out at Calaf, menacingly. ¡°Now who is this!?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Oh, jealous?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°He¡¯s my partner in crime, of course.¡± This new opponent had no Interface. Nothing appeared when Calaf examined him. He was never branded, and so had no possible Menu to observe. Judging by his person the fireball had done no damage whatsoever despite being point blank. ¡°C¡®mon, Enkidu.¡± Jelena took two steps backwards, then turned. With a sudden burst of speed Jelena ran up the rather steep incline leading out of the hot springs. Her partner turned to run after her as well. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t try to get away!¡± Calaf prepared another mighty strike. Only, this newcomer ¨C Enkidu ¨C sliced the spearhead clear off in one swing. With a toothy smirk, he turned, then leapt after Jelena.
Item: Broken Steel Spear +1 Description: Two Halves of a Broken Spear. Requires Repair to Serve As A Weapon Once More.
¡°Man, they got away again?¡± Gorman ran his hands through his hair. ¡°Ah, that new fellow seemed especially deadly. Guess she keeps him around as some kind of attack dog?¡± ¡°Something like that.¡± Calaf looked up at the moon as it wafted over this depression the spring was in. He still held onto the back half of his spear. The spearhead sat in the mud. The level delta between the swordman¡¯s equipment and Calaf¡¯s steel set must have been¡­ twenty, no, thirty or more levels! A red-colored blade. And glass knives. It was a lead as to what part of the pilgrimage route the thieves could operate out of. He¡¯d have to do research in the church archives. And he¡¯d landed a hit on Jelena. Reduced some hit points. Even though her Interface was scrambled due to all the heresy and the defiling of her Brand, that meant she was still, at some level, bound to the Most Holy Interface. Which meant she had a level, forsaken though it may have been by the thief. ¡­ and she wouldn¡¯t be able to level up further since her brand was desecrated. ¡­ which meant¡­ ¡°Formulating a plan?¡± Gorman asked. ¡°Something like that.¡± He turned back to the steaming hot springs. ¡­ which meant that if Calaf could keep leveling up, he would eventually surpass her. She could be beaten!
Chapter Twelve: Deuteragonist; Separate Ways
¡°That guard from Riverglen.¡± ¡°Yes, Kiddo, what about him?¡± Enkidu scowled. The pair trailblazed a path north, off the usual footpaths. It was standard operating procedure when leaving a town once the watch had their scent. Which was more often than not, really. ¡°You know I don¡¯t like that nickname.¡± Jelena took some time to fan out her eyepatch before answering. ¡°Oh? Which one? Kiddo?¡± ¡°I¡¯m older than you.¡± ¡°Yes, but it kinda goes with your real name.¡± The first signs of dawn were creeping over the horizon in the form of some scant purplish streaks. Tomorrow would be exceptionally breezy ¨C the wind was already picking up. Jelena let the old branding wound air out. Too late, she realized she¡¯d left her bonnet back in the spring. She¡¯d need to give her hair a proper wash eventually¡­ ¡°You gave me that name too.¡± Enkidu¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°The nickname is unnecessary.¡± ¡°I give everyone nicknames,¡± Jelena said. ¡°C¡¯mon, if we can get to the junction before daybreak we can disappear into the crowd.¡± A few faint lights appeared on the northern horizon already. Their break would have to end soon. That guard though¡­ awfully nice of him, letting her get dressed in a rush. Her bodice had been rather hastily put on in the bustle of it all and so the straps were a bit ill-fitting and required adjustment. ¡°Now, I believe I¡¯ve just learned some important information about these baubles we¡¯ve been hawking.¡± Jelena retrieved that church catalyst taken from the hands of a Pryor back in Riverglen. It was the Venerable Talisman of the Cleric ¨C a thin bit of cloth, really. But regardless of whether it was a true holy relic or just a glorified handkerchief, devout pilgrims would pay top dollar to briefly touch even a sliver of this divine fabric. ¡°Apparently this thing can control the level ranges of monsters around Riverglen. That thing we pawned off in Deepwood did the same for Granite Pass. Half-tempted to go steal it back now. Not quite what I was expecting. But it ups the price point on these things fivefold. If we-¡± ¡°The nickname is unfitting,¡± Enkidu growled. ¡°I¡¯m older than you.¡± ¡°Still stuck on that, eh?¡± Jelena chuckled. ¡°We¡¯ll come up with a new nickname on the road. How¡¯s that?¡± Enkidu sighed. ¡°Adequate.¡± ¡°As I was saying. These things are more valuable than expected. That means we¡¯ll have clerics hunting us for the rest of our days, so long as we¡¯ve got ¡®em. But it¡¯ll also mean that we can sell them to much higher bidders. I¡¯m thinking the Thieves Guild.¡± These artifacts would require additional research. But they could sell some of the lesser relics at the junction to fund a trip further afield. Traveling closer to home was always nice, if perhaps bittersweet. Jelena put her eyepatch back on. Daylight was growing closer by the minute. It was time to head out. ¡°You didn¡¯t give that guard a nickname,¡± said Enkidu.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Really?¡± Jelena gave her wild and unshaven partner a piteous look. ¡°I called him Hot Shot. Before you showed up. That¡¯s a nickname. Hardly know him enough to give him one that¡¯s truly fitting though.¡± ¡°He¡¯s chased us quite far.¡± ¡°Oh? Jealous?¡± ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°I asked him if he was jealous of you.¡± Jelena let out a chuckle. ¡°And why would you ask that?¡± Jelena ignored him. ¡°Of course, he¡¯s betrothed and all.¡± ¡°Remind you of old times?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like...¡± Jelena¡¯s voice trailed off. She scoffed. ¡°Killing his foster Pryor probably didn¡¯t endear myself to him.¡± ¡°People generally don¡¯t forgive others for killing their foster parents,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°This is known.¡± ¡°Still, he seems capable of listening to reason when he¡¯s not debuffed,¡± Jelena said. ¡°If he learned about all that, maybe he¡¯d understand? Who knows what will happen if we meet again?¡± The purple streaks in the sky were rapidly fading into a lighter reddish. Jelena looked to the horizon with her good eye, then to Enkidu. ¡°C¡¯mon. We¡¯re burning moonlight¡­¡± Jelena paused for maximum effect. ¡°¡­ Wild Man.¡± The pair of thieves walked in silence for a time. Long enough for the first rays of daylight to creep over the plains. Then, after countless minutes of blissful silence, Enkidu spoke, without warning: ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t like that nickname either.¡±
No signs of their thieves anywhere around Twelfthnight. And by the time dawn came, the various campers and pilgrims were milling about and ready to get a quick dip in the hot springs, spoiling any possible trails that could¡¯ve been tracked by those of a more Scout-ly persuasion. Calaf had stashed his spear away for safekeeping. It was useless until it could be repaired anyway. While Twelfthnight had a merchant (hence Gorman¡¯s new sword), it lacked a proper blacksmith. The path southwards remained clear, patrolled by experienced church clergy over-leveled for even the haywire biosphere of Riverglen and the narrows north of Granite Pass. The route was clear for the upcoming pilgrimage season, though the overarching problem had yet to be resolved. ¡°She said she had no idea about the leveling issues she¡¯d wrought.¡± Calaf scratched his chin in contemplation ¨C it had been some time since he¡¯d managed to shave. ¡°You, uh, really taking a known apostate and relic thief at her word?¡± Gorman asked. ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± Calaf shuffled about. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ it might be a clue with regards to where she could go next.¡± ¡°Speaking of, what is the plan?¡± Gorman asked. ¡°I was going to head back down the trail. Got enough levels under my belt that I should be able to solo any number of Rat Kings at this point. Someone needs to open the sewers up before the pilgrimage kicks off. Still have a couple weeks to clean up.¡± Calaf looked back down Twelfthnight¡¯s main street. The pilgrimage route beckoned. And he¡¯d yet to truly best his quarry ¨C nay, his rival ¨C in chivalrous and glorious combat. For once, Gorman seemed to sense his trepidation. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve had enough adventuring for one season. I¡¯m headed back to the glen. I¡¯m sure the clerics will help keep the first station clear if you want to hang around here for a time, maybe put some more levels in.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll need to send some letter back home before we part ways.¡± It wouldn¡¯t do to stay away from Riverglen for so long with no word to his betrothed, of course. So Calaf acquired some Plain Letterwriting Parchment (x1) from one of the Alpine station¡¯s many pilgrim-oriented general stores.
Dearest Charlotte, It appears the pilgrimage route is secure, though the holy artifacts and those who stole them have yet to be apprehended. To this end, I am going to continue to travel down the pilgrimage route further in search of additional leads. There¡¯s no timetable for when this quest may end, but I hope to be back with the returning pilgrims at the end of the season, at least. Send word to Plains Junction if you need anything. I¡¯ll try to bring some sort of boon or present back from however far I get. I hope this letter finds you well. Sincerely, Calaf of Riverglen
¡°Alright, should be enough.¡± Calaf traded the letter to Gorman. ¡°I¡¯ll get it to the cathedral,¡± said Gorman. ¡°And I¡¯ll see if I can hear anything about Deacon¡¯s activities,¡± Calaf added. It would likely be three or so days¡¯ travel yet to return to Riverglen. Plains Junction would be another day north, probably less. So, it was here that the pair of sewer guards disbanded their party and went their separate ways. Those glass knives remained on his mind. They weren¡¯t readily available anywhere on the main pilgrimage route, that he was aware of. But Enkidu¡¯s fire-red sword, though. That was made of ore from Firefield. Much further up the field ¨C a much higher level than what Calaf could deal with right now. But the pilgrimage season was only just beginning. He had plenty of time to prepare around Plains Junction and no shortage of iterant pilgrims with which to travel.
Chapter Thirteen: Relic Hawkers
With the path set, it would be maybe two or three weeks before a proper pilgrimage season got underway. Calaf¡¯s second pilgrimage would be quite different both from the standard route of initiates and from his first low-level pilgrimage some years ago. Initiates and converts started, of course, in Riverglen. The church reserved all rights to that first holy cave where the Interface was handed down. For it was holy ground far too sacred for any old pilgrim to tread unsupervised. So of course, novice faithful went to the sewers first and exterminated some minor rats to gain their first level or two, just as the old heroes did. Extracurricular activities all over Riverglen mimicked the various side quests of the old heroes. Exceptionally faithful were over-leveled for the path by the time they were done, but be they level three or sixteen, all pilgrims headed north. Calaf¡¯s last pilgrimage had brought him through the pass to Deepwood. He noted that now he¡¯d be starting at Twelfthnight and moving up the route. The only place on the pilgrimage path he would not visit would be that short stretch of dense alpine woodland between Deepwood and Twelfthnight. Wasn¡¯t much in the way of associated legends on that route. Just a short stretch through some highlands. Barring any other roadblocks, he would be able to visit that last stretch of the path on the way back. It would be good to at least get to the plains before the glut of lower-level pilgrims started down the path for peak season. And so, Calaf traveled back down towards Plains Junction with another group of pilgrims being escorted by church-ordained guards. This time he was not a hired guard, but one of the escortees. Calaf had a replacement spear he¡¯d acquired from the meagre shops before heading north ¨C back to iron, of course. Probably the only Stalwart with the most basic possible spear. But he still had his shield and armor at level with any creature he was likely to run into at this juncture. A Stalwart¡¯s role was to block and withstand blows. Stabbing the foes dead was the role of other classes. Still, the iron spear was the only thing preventing Calaf from just braving the route back to the plains alone. The local creature¡¯s levels were not twice their expected range, meaning Jelena hadn¡¯t managed to steal the holy leveling relics from either Deepwood or Twelfthnight. And shouldn¡¯t be able to steal from Plains Junction in the short time before Calaf caught up. The trip back to Plains Junction was uneventful, and far quicker than the trip up into the highlands. That the walk was entirely downhill only made the journey all the easier. A pilgrimage convoy nearly twice the size of the old group both made things safer and minimized any possible gold or experience benefits of the journey.
And so, within a short day¡¯s travel, Plains Junction once more appeared on the horizon, then inched closer. He arrived to find the church guard around the cathedral district doubled compared to the usual garrison. It appeared their warnings about Jelena the relic thief was being taken heed of. It was so weird to Calaf¡¯s senses to have a city that just kind of sprawled out across endless flat land. And there was not even a river to speak of, merely a few springs and deep wells from which the junction got its water. Truly, there was simply no reason for the junction to exist were it not for all the trade brought forth by the pilgrimage. Having arrived back in the junction¡¯s central square shortly after noon, Calaf began checking in with the local traders. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a seller of religious relics,¡± he said. ¡°Possibly a pawn shop. Or mayhaps something under the table.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The merchant ¨C literally the first person Calaf approached on his quest ¨C looked to the guard shiftily. ¡°You, uh, got the password?¡± ¡°The password?¡± Calaf tilted his head. ¡°Aye. You¡­ uh, don¡¯t know it?¡± ¡°Oh, by the Paladin¡¯s Besainted Gauntlets,¡± Calaf said with a scowl. ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± The merchant disappeared beneath his stall for a moment. Then, with a click, a new, secret shelf collapsed down over the mundane rows of potions and doodads. There were all sorts of religious icons, their prices triple that of the merchant¡¯s ¡®official¡¯ wares. ¡°What¡¯re ya buying?¡± asked the merchant all slyly. Calaf examined the artifacts:
Item: Lock of the Besainted Cleric¡¯s Curly Hair (5000 gold) Description: Hair from the Holy Cleric of Olde. Cures any wound, honest!
Item: Splinters of the Holy Paladin¡¯s Kite Shield (7500 gold) Description: Splinters from the handguard of the Paladin¡¯s first shield. Quadruples defense for a month.
Item: Thief¡¯s Lockpick (8000 gold) Description: A single bobby pin from the Thief¡¯s repertoire. Will never break.
Item: Battlemage¡¯s Battleglove (10000 gold) Description: The ancient Battlemage¡¯s spell-casting glove. Reduces casting time by sextuple the usual battleglove¡¯s delay reduction.
¡°The Scout¡¯s lockpick,¡± Calaf said, deadpan. ¡°Come again?¡± ¡°The Scout. Not the Thief. Thievery is bad and therefore sinful.¡± ¡°Eh? This a church sting operation?¡± Again. Calaf looked to the rows of holy relics. If this was the selection of pilfered relics available from literally the first merchant he approached, the underground relic market must be truly ubiquitous in this trading hub. ¡°How any of these are real?¡± ¡°Everything¡¯s as real as you and me are,¡± promised the Merchant. ¡°Why, if you¡¯re not completely satisfied after your first battle with a legendary beast then I offer not double but triple your gold back!¡± Calaf raised an eyebrow. No doubt, the money-back guarantee was perfectly designed to only kick in once these false (or highly overhyped) ¡®relics¡¯ had led buyers, overconfident, into an early grave. Not that Calaf was going to test these so-called holy relics; he had better use for five thousand-plus gold. ¡°Your suppliers. Surely there¡¯s someone who has given you these relics.¡± And surely Jelena wouldn¡¯t be selling this fake dreck. Calaf scratched his chin. Yeah, she was a purveyor of actual, stollen-right-from-a-murdered-priest¡¯s-hands relics. Not this fake contraband. Surely this farce was beneath a fiendish, suave, hypercompetent villain of her repertoire. ¡°I, uh, found these relics after having been drawn to a hidden reliquary in a cave outside of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt in a dream!¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Calaf remained unconvinced. ¡°And nobody¡¯s tried selling anything to you?¡± The merchant glumly shook his head. ¡°Had some off-Menu pair try to hawk some goods. Looked fake though.¡± ¡°A woman with an eyepatch and short, wiry hair that curls all over alongside a crazy man with a long-knotted ponytail-looking thing, right?¡± Silently, the merchant nodded. ¡°Wanted like three times as much for some kinda talisman as these relics you see now. I, uh, only use divinely sourced guaranteed-holy relics here. Not going to buy any sketchy relics, no sir!¡± Calaf scoffed. ¡°Where¡¯d they go?¡± ¡°Ayy, there¡¯s not an underground relic seller in the junction that could afford those prices, no sir. The dire-turtles around the mudholes don¡¯t drop enough gold to ever afford what they wanted to sell ¡®em for.¡± ¡°And who would be able to afford them?¡± The merchant shrugged. ¡°I dunno, Thieves Guild?¡± Calaf leaned in. He finally had a proper lead. ¡°And where would I find this Thieves Guild?¡± ¡°Nuh-uh, no can do. You want them to put a hit out on me? I swear I¡¯ll never tell.¡± This merchant had already copped to selling fake relics ¨C and perhaps the crime would be worse if these were indeed actual religious articles of faith. Calaf reached for his spear¡­ his replacement, Basic Iron Spear. The merchant laughed. ¡°Good luck threatening anyone with that, River Boy!¡± Calaf frowned. He¡¯d need a proper spear again before he could throw his weight around on this investigation. A few more points into Charisma wouldn¡¯t hurt either.
Chapter Fourteen: Mining, Crafting
So, the relic thieves were priced out of Plains Junction. That itself was a fair indication of where his quarry could be heading; higher-leveled zones meant more loot, which meant larger markets for pilfered, priceless relics. But Calaf would not be able to pursue Jelena down the pilgrimage path just yet. For one, he needed another spear. His steel +1 spear would suffice for the next few stations in a pinch. And he had the gold to simply repair the broken weapon. But while he was here in search of a weaponsmith, he might as well splurge for an upgrade. Certainly, going up against Enkidu with a merely repaired spear would end the same way as their first encounter. For two, there was still time before the peak pilgrimage season got underway. He could use this time to prepare, then hopefully join another pilgrimage caravan as a guard. To both ends, he poked around Plains Junction for several days. Gold obtained since leaving Riverglen more that sustained him without need for further income. Each day, off-season pilgrims marched east past the town limits to a rocky quarry. There, adventurers with level ranges in the teens to early twenties mined with pickaxes or occasionally by hand. It was a form of leveling that didn¡¯t involve combat. Smiths and merchants would often reach mid-levels purely via tasks like this. Iron jutted out of the very stone, as did trace bits of gold, titanium, and plainskarst ¨C the junction¡¯s very own signature crafting material. Calaf arrived, sans pickaxe, of course. Though he¡¯d assumed that the quarry would be lightly populated at this off-season, that was not to be the case. Dozens upon dozens of novice miners staked out their claims. Calaf was left with a mere three ore veins, only one of them containing steel. It would take a month to gather up enough ore to strengthen his full kit at this rate. And, of course, he had no pickaxe. Still, he managed to reserve this spot via the Menu. All would know who it belonged to for the day. Luckily, a handy merchant awaited right at the edge of the quarry. A small stall held more than enough pickaxes, panning equipment, and even bundles of Plain Lightly Filtered Water Canteens (x6). ¡°Thought you¡¯d get a bit of novice mining in, eh?¡± asked the merchant. ¡°Something like that.¡± ¡°Well, your options are either beating each ore vein individually with your fists. Might be done before sundown. Ehehe. Or, you can buy this:¡±
Item: Standard Pickaxe (x1) (1000 gold) Description: A standard-durability pickaxe. Capable of mining ores of firestone quality and below.
¡°One thousand gold?¡± Calaf asked, incredulous. ¡°A thirty-minute walk back to town and I could buy one for 100 gold.¡± ¡°Yeah. But that¡¯s another thirty minutes back here once you¡¯ve found and bought one. By then it¡¯s practically lunchtime. And your possible ore drops are cut in half for the day.¡± Not without some groveling, Calaf handed over the thousand gold. Far more money than he was expecting to spend today. Somehow, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if it was worth it just to deplete these three veins. Calaf happened to take a gander at the Menu listing of salable ores that the merchant was offering. It ought to be slightly higher back in town. But the prices were:
Iron Ore (Forging Skill Craft Material): 5 gold/piece
Gold Ore (Forging Skill Craft Material): 50 gold/piece
Plainskarst(misc. crafting): 1 gold/piece
Two of Calaf¡¯s three veins were plainskarst. He would never turn a profit at this rate. Still, he began with the iron ore and continued for hours. Iron came in chunks as the surface vein dwindled.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. After four hours, his inventory looked like this:
Broken Steel Spear: (x1)
Pickaxe: (x1)
Iron Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x12)
Plainskarst (Misc Forgeable): (x30)
Gold (Smithing Forgeable): (x2)
Slow and steady wasn¡¯t cutting it. Three iron ores had to be sacrificed for every single bit of steel. And yet, what else could he do? He could, perhaps, double this haul by the end of the day. Not at all enough to turn a profit. But perhaps a start.
It was another hour (and another 3 iron ores and 12 plainskarst) when Calaf noticed a figure two plots over from his own. A younger fellow in basic unclassed initiate rags. This figure beat at the ore veins with fists, the Menu-approved way of harvesting without the proper tools. ¡°Almost got one¡­¡± the low-level initiate said. ¡°How long have you been doing this?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°All day¡­¡± The initiate was beating on a simple vein of Plainskarst. Just wailing with his fist for minor chip damage every dozen punches or so. Calaf frowned. ¡°What requires you to try so hard for such a paltry sum of materials?¡± ¡°I¡­ I need to fund my way to Riverglen!¡± said the initiate. ¡°Need to get enough karst before the last pilgrimage convoy heads out.¡± ¡°Can you truly make any money off pure plainskarst? And at that pace?¡± Calaf put his pickaxe down. It was time for a break anyway. ¡°Not here. Going to use my life savings to buy a place in a caravan. I need this¡­¡± The initiate finally pried a bit of plainskarst out of the stone. ¡°¡­ to sell in Riverglen.¡± Of course. Riverglen didn¡¯t have plainskarst. Meaning this common stone worth flakes on the gold coin here in the junction was likely more valuable in literally any other settlement. ¡°That¡¯s quite clever,¡± Calaf said. I should have thought of bringing some river clay up the route. Calaf was a Stalwart, yes. His skills specced for endurance and defense. But he was also aiming to be a Paladin ¨C an exemplar of knightly chivalry. He looked at this initiate, ever-so-slowly trying to pry even a single bit of ore off the vein. ¡°Wait right here,¡± Calaf said. He returned once more to the merchant who¡¯d set up a price-gouging shop at the edge of the mining quarry. ¡°Another pickaxe, please.¡± ¡°Oh? Did the old one break?¡± The merchant laughed. ¡°Eh, that was even quicker than usual.¡± ¡°Another one, please.¡± Calaf motioned towards the initiate beating on ore veins with their fists. ¡°For him, please.¡± The merchant nodded, then gladly handed one over¡­ for 1500 gold.
Back in town, Calaf was approached by a messenger in church robes, short of breath. ¡°Calaf, of Riverglen?¡± asked the messenger. ¡°It is I.¡± Calaf eyed the messenger warily. ¡°How did you find me?¡± The courier presented a note. It was sealed, but not with any of the official church seals of the various pilgrimage stations. Calaf opened it:
Item: Sealed Letter from Vault Description: A Sealed Letter From Vault.
Dear Calaf: The conversion of Vault continues apace. The beginnings of a church is being built at the top of the pit this town is built around. There is still much work to be done by me here. There is certainly need of a Deacon in these lands. One who can convert the local beasts into submission under the Menu. I hear word that there is no need for an alternative pilgrimage route, as the path from Riverglen through to Deepwood is now clear. I also hear tell that you¡¯ve put the warning out to the other stations. Good work. That should put a stop to future thefts. Should you ever need compensation for this good deed, go back and visit the priory south of Riverglen. My order will initiate you into the church¡¯s secret innermost echelons. Regards, Deacon Deacon
¡°Glad he¡¯s doing well,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Did you come here all the way from Vault?¡± But the messenger had already run off towards the church district. No doubt trying to receive some water before heading back to his destination. Whatever kind of initiation did Deacon wish to perform for Calaf? He couldn¡¯t help but feel a little undeserving while the relic thieves remained free. Whatever the reason, any initiation would have to wait until he was done with his journey along the route.
On the second day of mining, Calaf showed up two hours earlier than the day before. He cordoned off a plot three times the size of the last one, and this time received this bounty by the end of the day:
Broken Steel Spear: (x1)
Pickaxe: (x1)
Iron Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x67)
Plainskarst (Misc Forgeable): (x123)
Gold Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x7)
Strange Bone (Misc): (x1)
Orichalium Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x1)
On the third day, Calaf cordoned off an even larger plot and allowed lower levels to mine the parts he¡¯d never have time to pick clean. The only fee was a pittance of plainskarst. Even pickaxes were provided ¨C bought for much cheaper back in town. He hoped this charity would help perfect his sense of chivalry when it came time to class up to the level of Paladin.
Chapter Fifteen: Looking For Group
By day four, Calaf had amassed quite the haul:
Calaf¡¯s Inventory:
Broken Steel Spear: (x1)
Pickaxe: (x1)
Iron Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x119)
Plainskarst (Misc Forgeable): (x399)
Gold Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x18)
Strange Bone (Misc): (x5)
Orichalium Ore (Smithing Forgeable): (x6)
Seal of the Old Ones (Cursed): (x2)
Rubbish (Misc): (x18)
More than enough to fund a new steel spear or two, if he was so inclined. Calaf went back to town one last day. He traded his pickaxe to the next upstart he passed on the road heading to the quarry without gear. All gold ore he sold for a healthy sum. More than enough to fund the next week of his journey at least. Likewise, he sold the rubbish and other miscellaneous items for a pittance. Iron, he sent to the smith. He had it forged, three ores for a single clump of steel. Then that steel was further combined into ingots. A surprise level-up on the blacksmith¡¯s end doubled their haul and took a sizable chunk out of how much time was required to complete this task. Still, Calaf waited long into the night for his commission to be complete. He handed over his broken spear, the steel, and a bit of wood, and watched as it was reforged. In the end, his weapon was back, with improvements:
Item: Steel Spear O¡¯ The Plains +1 (x1) Description: A spear fluted with an aerodynamic wood from the plainslands. +5 to throwing, +3 to offensive sweeps, +2 to durability. (AGL: 16)
Success! The spearhead was physically very much the same steel spike he¡¯d bought back in Granite Pass. The plains-specific crafting bonuses added two steel spikes perpendicular to the main blade, allowing for sideswipes and helping with guarding in a pinch. And the aerodynamic shaft the thing was now affixed to made throwing the spear in combat viable as a Special Technique (if unadvised). Offensive-minded Stalwarts were rare, but any extra bit of attack would certainly help him when traveling solo. There was more than enough steel left over to commission a secondary weapon. Just in case:
Item: Steel Vorpal Knife Description: A short knife. x4 attack speed. x6 stealth attacks. (STR: 2, AGL 8)
The rest of the steel he used to repair his armor, then sold what was left of the steel and iron to the blacksmith as a kind of tip. He¡¯d be more than capable of braving the trail solo until he reached the Delta at least.
On the sixth day back at the junction, a strange calm fell over the town. A few straggling caravans were heading south down the route. Hoping to get to Riverglen in time for peak pilgrimage season. It was in this environment that Calaf went to the market, dropping off some dire-deer furs he¡¯d acquired for a pittance of XP and gold with his newly improved gear. It was there that he discovered a group of four people, a balanced party, desperately trying to buy gear that was far over-leveled for them. They were:
Name: Jorge
Rank: Shielder.
Level 12
Status: 12/50 (Winded!)
Weapons: Mace and Buckler
A former initiate, having respecced into Shielder. Like a less-leveled version of Calaf himself. And he was going for a mace and shield combo ¨C probably aiming for more of a Warrior build than a noble Paladin.
Name: Sarah
Rank: Healer
Level: 10
Status: 29/29 (In Over Her Head)
Weapons: Iron StaveThe author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Yes, this was a familiar face as well. She¡¯d specced into a healer class ¨C the first step on the path to cleric. Restoration magic was the backbone of any balanced party.
Name: Gerard
Rank: Trailblazer
Level: 14
Status: 2/32 (Holdin¡¯ On)
Weapons: Twin Knives (gilded).
This guy should have really upgraded his knives further before leaving Riverglen¡­
Name: Isaac
Rank: Fighter
Level: 11
Status: 30/42 (Oof)
Weapons: Half-Shattered Zweihander (bronze)
And a warrior class ¨C a non-magic class, kin of the Stalwart, that could eventually work its way into the Battlemage route. All in all, this was a well-balanced party. And yet, they were 1) horribly under-leveled for the region. 2) actively hurting, right there in the city. And 3)¡­ ¡°Hail, travelers,¡± Calaf began. The four of them looked at the wayfarer as if they could just barely recall where they¡¯d seen this fellow from before. ¡°It is I,¡± he said. ¡°Calaf.¡± Still, they looked confused. ¡°The sewer guard?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± said Sarah, the healer. ¡°The one who helped us with those Rat Kings?¡± ¡°The one who looked like he was about to fall asleep?¡± Asked Isaac, the fighter. ¡°No, no, that was probably Gorman. He¡¯s back at the post. I am Calaf, Stalwart, Wayfarer, temporarily-on-hiatus sewer guard, and hunter of church apostates.¡± Calaf cleared his throat. ¡°And you all look like you could use my help.¡±
Calaf introduced himself to the group once again. They¡¯d changed quite a bit since that near-disastrous bout against the rat-nados. Their gear was upgraded from their initiate equipment, but otherwise they hadn¡¯t visited a smith or shop since Riverglen. Probably not a good idea ¨C a good equipment run in Granite Pass or Deepwood would leave you set for the next several towns. And their levels were all over the place! They weren¡¯t all gaining up on beasts of the field to share in the bounties. And their health! The healer was letting her fellows walk around town near death. ¡°We were trying to get ahead of the pilgrimage. Get a head start before the crowds show up, yeah?¡± Jorge said. ¡°Why, walking alongside a crowd is part of the honor of traveling on the pilgrimage!¡± Calaf said. ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯ll take all the good loot,¡± said Jorge. ¡°I¡¯m from Plains Junction and every year the glut of raw supplies and influx of gold inflates the economy.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Calaf raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°I¡­ never thought of that. Still, you¡¯re hardly the correct level to even think of going down the pilgrimage route further. Please, let me help you gain a few levels for the next couple of days.¡±
The southernmost end of the plains ¨C particularly those near the road and the highlands ¨C had monsters at a relatively tame level 23. The northern and western bits, those closer to the next station, were up in the low 30s. This is to say that even the lower end was a bit much for this quad-team¡¯s level range. And while the nearby Delta just past the borderline had level 25-tier ranges in limited sectors, if they couldn¡¯t properly survive the route without a caravan they weren¡¯t getting anywhere near the next station before the rest of the pilgrims showed up. Calaf¡¯s solution, of course, was thus: ¡°Allow me to accompany you for a few days. We should be able to handle the lower range of monsters here, and by the time the first pilgrims appear over the horizon, you will be sufficiently leveled enough to leave them in the dust on the way to the Delta.¡± Jorge, Sarah, and Isaac reluctantly agreed. Gerard was a bit more skeptical but ultimately had no choice but to go with the remainder of his party. And so, the group of five met right where the highlands transitioned to plains, to hunt a few dire-boars of level 22 or so. Calaf was still not but level 18, but with his top-tier equipment that was more than enough to perform shield duty for the lower leveled group. Jorge swapped his buckler out for the mace and just went pure damage. Isaac¡¯s shattered Zweihander likewise swung in big arcs that took dozens of hit points off each boar per swing. Gerard was responsible for ranged pulling with a set of throwing knives (mercifully retrievable once the boars were felled). And the best thing about this configuration was that healer Sarah needed to typically only focus any healing on Calaf ¨C and occasionally Gerard, if a boar got a lucky hit in. With five people, they easily made short work of everything at the foot of the highlands and gradually moved into the level 26-28 ranged hunting rounds within a day or so. By this time, Calaf had gained two levels and his new friends/wards had gained four. The party¡¯s level distribution appeared thus:
Name: Calaf Level: 20
Name: Jorge Level: 16
Name: Sarah Level: 14
Name: Gerard Level: 17
Name: Isaac Level: 15
In time the level delta between Calaf and the others would shrink, and the levels amongst themselves would gradually even out. At that point it wouldn¡¯t be necessary for Calaf to chaperone them, they¡¯d just be a regular at-level party. Still, it was within sight of the town¡¯s church steeples, at the edge of the plains, where the new party discovered a legendary monster¡­
¡°Got a second one!¡± Gerard said as he returned from a pull on a level 28 dire-bovine. The high-level delta would reward a significant XP bonus. Only¡­ A second, two-legged lizard-looking thing was following after him. Level 36, way out of the southern plain¡¯s usual level ranges. And it had a level 28 dire-boar hoof sticking out of its mouth!
Name: Leggy Lizard
Level: 36.
Status: 100/100 HP
¡°What is that!?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°Legendary monster,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Everyone behind me. Let me provoke it.¡± Calaf stood in front of Gerard¡¯s path, let him pass, then brought up his shield. A toothy bite latched onto Calaf¡¯s shield. He felt his mail boots being pushed back through the plain¡¯s brittle dirt. This was the strongest creature he¡¯d encountered since that dire-worm! ¡°I¡¯ve got him provoked. Get in on his flanks and start stabbing!¡± Calaf said. Jorge and Isaac approached from either side, two-handed mace and exactly half a Zweihander cutting into the beast¡¯s scaly hide. A full-force blow from the Zweihander did a whopping five HP of damage to the legendary beast. ¡°We¡¯ll be here all day,¡± Calaf said, grindstone-like teeth trying very hard to eat his shield. Just then, the fourth melee-focused member of their group swooped in from behind¡­
Special Technique: Thief Strike Description: Quadruples damage when attacking from behind. Lasts for one hit only.
The twin daggers did little damage individually. But with quadruple multipliers, even the slightest hit left the creature reeling. All at once, the creature went from a meaty 85/100 HP to a much more manageable 55/100 HP! Only, now the dire-lizard was no longer interested in Calaf¡¯s shield. It turned, ready to devour their Scout in one foul gulp. Ah, what would Jelena do in this situation? Not sit around and wait for her turn as this creature ate a comrade, presumably. Calaf learned from her less-than-holy example and took the initiative with a¡­
Calaf Uses: Shield Bash Effect: Attack With Shield. Low Damage, Potential to Stun.
The blow left the monster reeling, its attention back on Calaf(¡®s shield). ¡°Use your Zweihander as its name implies,¡± Calaf told Isaac. ¡°It doubles all damage multipliers.¡± No sooner had the beast¡¯s mouth taken a bit to Calaf¡¯s pauldrons was Sarah ready with the heals. And she even had time to imbue their weapons with a low-level lightning charm that proved exceptionally adept at rending the lizard¡¯s armor. After some twenty minutes of constant hacking at this legendary beast, the Leggy Lizard lay dead. Gold was evenly distributed, XP was slightly less evenly distributed, and Calaf leveled up once more! Why, he even got a second wind, enough to pick up the item that this legendary beast was so sought after:
Item: Golden Dire-Lizard Hide of Yore Description: An Exceptionally Rare Crafting Material to Make the Fabled Sage¡¯s Lizardskin Boots.
¡°What¡¯re we going to do with that?¡± Asked Jorge. ¡°Well, you can sell it, or you can give it to a particularly skilled crafter to forge into boots that sell for even more,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Boots help with agility on battlemages and clerics, but It¡¯s probably more efficient to sell it. Though, if you wanted to maximize your gains we could wait for the next station.¡± Why, not but a week ago Calaf felt like a novice. But even with his paltry knowledge, he was still a relative expert compared to his new party. They all agreed to wait until they reached the Delta to sell this hide, then split the proceeds five ways. And so, the group headed north just as they heard word of the first pilgrim convoys reaching Granite Pass. And on that day that they left the plains, Calaf¡¯s stats were thus:
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer (Pilgrim)
Rank: Stalwart, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 21
Status: 89/89 (Healthy)
Strength: 32
Endurance: 46
Agility: 19
Intelligence: 15
Charisma: 13
Arcane: 6
Luck: 21
Chapter Sixteen: Plains and Swamp Tales
Pilgrimage season had begun on the plains when the lowest ranked member of this gestalt pick-me-up group was at level 16. Twelfthnight up in the highlands was framed by dozens ¨C no, hundreds, of campfires as the bloated vanguard of pilgrims entered that fourth station on the route. The sheer mass of pilgrims shuffling along the road would slow them down, maybe take a day and a half before they reached the plains. Calaf and his new party returned to Plains Junction for a single evening. Already, the city was a bit more crowded, and the market prices inflated with higher-level pilgrims who had the same idea of outpacing the main glut of worshipers that Jorge and company had. They sold as much raw material as they could, basking in the inflated prices. Still, Calaf had that supply of plainskarst to hawk at the next town over. He would test this ¡®market economics¡¯ and ¡®supply and demand¡¯ principle. It was not a strategy the church educational program would teach him. Just as they left the market and prepared to head to their inn for one final night before heading out, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but overhear a particularly old gentleman. An impressive level 60, even in his old age. ¡°Bah. All these tourists. Pilgrimage has gone commercial, it has! Why, back in my day, only the most devout dared pass Deepwood. And we stayed at each station for weeks, leveling up as God intended. Nowadays we¡¯ve got level twelves marching into town with scarcely even iron equipment. And the line of pilgrims stretches ¡®twix the delta and the woods. A regular conga line, it is!¡± Still, recent victories had boosted Calaf¡¯s confidence. His fellow travelers wanted to gain as high a level as possible, as level 40 and above allowed access to prestige church positions. Level 60 and above were often allowed into the holiest of shrines and blessed with all manner of buffs in whatever town or cloister they happened to visit. Even these boons only made the journey towards the upper echelons and the grand cathedral at the site of the Demon Lord¡¯s Fall even somewhat bearable for the strongest and most committed among the faithful. Calaf did want to increase his level and his faith in the Holy Menu. But he also wanted to find Jelena. He also wanted a second round with that slovenly beast-man she¡¯d sicced on him and Gorman back in the hot springs. He knew the itinerary. The next stay on the route of the holy pilgrimage. A port floating on and around a fanning river delta. A city of cisterns and alleyways. There would be a lead to follow there should he be bold enough to pursue it. But first, they had to reach the fertile river delta.
Calaf, Jorge, Gerard, and Isaac kicked at an enraged and rabid and drooling dire-badger, itself just a level below the Leggy Lizard they¡¯d so valiantly felled a few days prior. ¡°It¡¯s too small for us to get a proper swing at!¡± Gerard said, annoyed. Indeed, the small stature of these beasts resulted in a -25% accuracy rating for all physical hits! ¡°There are¡­¡± Isaac swung his half-a-greatsword. ¡°¡­ three others just behind that hill over there.¡± Calaf compelled the dire-beast to focus on him with a shield bash. ¡°Just don¡¯t get in their way until we fell this one. Take on one at a time and we can do this, everyone. Think of the experience bonus!¡± After five minutes of frenzied kicking, the beast was felled.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Item Obtained:
Teeth of the Dire-Badger (x5) Antidote (x3)
Gold x 70 Experience: 250 xp
Calaf felt the experience flow through him (and the gold flowing through his wallet). Even split five ways, the rewards from this standard dire-badger were comparable to legendary beasts back in Riverglen. ¡°Ahh. It bit me!¡± said Gerard. ¡°I can feel the rabies coming on. Heal me. Heal me!¡±
Name: Gerard
Status: 29/36 (Rabies!)
¡°Worry not. There are weeks before the symptoms take effect,¡± said Calaf. ¡°The creature dropped the antidotes needed to remove the status. A standard healing spell will not.¡± Even so, Calaf suggested that Sarah heal the team scout anyway. With his status back to (Normal) and his HP topped up, the group was ready to go once more. Sarah had unlocked an area of effect healing spell at level 15. Mana consumption was inefficient until the cleric was north of level twenty. But should they all be low on health it was a good emergency pick-me-up. Each individual enemy was a struggle on this far northern end of the plains. There was no manipulation of region levels at play here; it was a well-known area of relative difficulty. But as the party persevered through dire-badgers and dire-cockatrice and dire-deer, the topography gradually became swampier. Dire-mammals gave way to dire-amphibians. Creatures of the mid-30s gave way back to creatures in the mid to late 20s. Where before the plains were easy to traverse despite being filled with individual beasts that inflicted poison and trample and rabies, now the creatures were relatively easy to dispatch but it was the land itself that slowed most progress. Gerard¡¯s scouting skillset was essential here. As a Trailblazer, he could easily make out the centuries-old footpaths between sinkholes and floodwaters that the Heroes of Yore would have crossed the delta on. The outer band of delta fingers was narrow, anyone being able to cross over while barely getting their ankles wet. Miles past and the next finger was a modest river that required a handily-provided pontoon bridge in order to cross. The third finger had a ferryman with an oar-based paddleboat waiting to ferry travelers across. Dire-piranhas stalked the waters, following in the boat¡¯s wake. Past this point, the level delta returned to the level thirty-plus base that the northern limits of the plains had possessed. At this point, though, the party was nearly caught up, and many a dire-gator emerged out of the rivers and marshes and were culled for experience and their craftable dire-gator hides. A fourth finger of the delta was so wide its far shore could not even be seen. No boat awaited. But there was a sign, sunken down and listing in the loose soil, pointing west-south-west:
Delta: Pilgrimage Station Thataway!
They were getting close!
The path continued along the riverside. Foliage hung low over the road, quite the change of pace over the dry plains, nearly devoid of any plant life larger than shrubberies. There weren¡¯t a lot of other pilgrims on the road. Only the truly faithful continued on past the Plains Junction. And Calaf¡¯s party was well ahead of peak pilgrimage season besides. With the low-hanging greenish canopy, the next town on the itinerary largely snuck up on the group. A squat wooden wall ¨C half the size of the stone one around Riverglen ¨C surrounded the town. Necessary to keep the dire-gators out of the market, Calaf supposed. A portcullis awaited ahead of the group, open, with two guards at level 43 with halberds the likes of which Calaf could not yet even dream of welding barring the route. It was a journey of some days through the swamps, but they were finally here. Faint culling of dire-gulls was heard in the distance. The air was thinner and saltier, here. And on that day, the party¡¯s levels were thus:
Name: Calaf Level: 24
Name: Jorge Level: 21
Name: Sarah Level: 19
Name: Gerard Level: 20
Name: Isaac Level: 18
Chapter Seventeen: Hes on Her Mind; Shes the Furthest Thing from His
¡°By the Thief¡¯s guile, this place is always so stifling.¡± Jelena sat under a palm-fan lean-to, at some undisclosed point along the river delta. ¡°This is the birthplace of your Thief,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°His homeland. Why would you invoke him to forsake this place? He likely enjoyed the climate. Was acclimatized.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± Jelena fanned her face. ¡°Ah, the humidity doesn¡¯t sit well with the ol¡¯ eyepatch.¡± ¡°Your hometown was hot,¡± said Enkidu. ¡°It was a dry heat.¡± Jelena scoffed. ¡°Much more manageable. And Menu forbid the blasted eyepatch gets wet.¡± Outside, the infernal blare of some kind of dire-cricket droned over a moss-ridden bayou. ¡°Why,¡± asked Enkidu after a while. ¡°Huh? Why what?¡± ¡°You swear on the Menu.¡± ¡°As does everyone else.¡± ¡°¡­ They have not forsaken this Menu. You have. Even blinded yourself in one eye.¡± Jelena sighed. ¡°Just¡­ force of habit, I suppose.¡± What more could she say? Merely rejecting the Church of the Menu didn¡¯t automatically come with some brand-new worldview, let alone cultural mannerisms. She wasn¡¯t like Enkidu ¨C she didn¡¯t just leap out of a tree one day, a grown adult with zero ties to anyone or anything. They¡¯d sold most of those relics they¡¯d scrounged up for quite a haul. Jelena tossed about a fat coin purse in her hands. Any Branded individual would identify it as thus:
Fat As Possible Coinpurse x1 Description: Near-Bursting! Contains¡­ 56780¡­ gold. Don¡¯t spend it all in one place.
... but to Jelena, it was just a hefty bag full of gold. And of course, they still had the two most valuable relics on hand. Never know when a high-rolling buyer would show up¡­ The woman in the eyepatch smirked. ¡°¡¯Course you and I walk the path of the Thief, Menu or no. It¡¯s as much a lifestyle as a class, yeah?¡± Enkidu growled but otherwise gave no response. ¡°Ah, following the pilgrimage route brings me back.¡± Jelena sighed, looking out over the swamp. ¡°Heading towards home is always such a melancholy feeling. Still, will be good to get back to more arid climates. This place always makes me sweat something awful. Ay, if only Firefield had a proper hot spring. Almost want to double back¡­¡± Jelena¡¯s voice trailed off. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of the sewer guard.¡± ¡°Am not,¡± Jelena lied. ¡°Just, seems familiar is all.¡± Or maybe their pursuer just had an incredibly generic face. No matter, not like he¡¯d dare brave the swamps, the miles of endless farmland, and the desert beyond to pursue them this far. Probably sent word out about their general appearance at the junction and went back home. ¡°What were you?¡± Enkidu asked in a deep tenor. ¡°Huh?¡± Jelena snapped up, alert. ¡°Was I what? Wasn¡¯t dwelling or anything, honest. Certainly not about the sewer guard.¡± Enkidu¡¯s face was, as always, implacable beneath his hurricane of hair. ¡°In the Church. What were you?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Jelena hoped he wouldn¡¯t mention their erstwhile rival again. ¡°What did I do in the church? I¡¯ve said several times I was at the orphanage back in Japella.¡± ¡°Your class. What was it?¡± Always so blunt and yet so obtuse with her rather wild companion. Jelena leaned back in her cot. ¡°Oh? It was cleric,¡± she said dismissively. ¡°Managed to class into it right after the pilgrimage. Ah, traveled with the convoys right down to Riverglen and took the route up to Firefield, then back home. Few years ago now. Why that¡­¡± That was why she remembered that fellow. The pilgrimage ¨C that first station in the sewer. Jelena chuckled at the thought. Ah, just one pilgrim of countless thousands that year. Doubt he remembers me though.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
¡°Welcome to Port Town!¡± said one of the gate guards with surprising enthusiasm given it was his only job duty. ¡°Not sure what I was expected out of the name¡­¡± Sarah said. ¡°This is one of the largest towns on the itinerary,¡± Calaf explained. ¡°Now, I¡¯ve never actually been, but they discuss it in school.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a school?¡± asked Gerard. Calaf did a double take. The church handled all education from age six to eighteen or so. Ensuring future pilgrims were raised with a correct and proper view of history and how the various stations operated with each other. And of course, this educational regimen provided proper lessons in the utter infallibility of the church and its teachings. But there were still some places where this selfless act of charity did not yet reach. ¡°Look, Port Town is our lifeline to the rest of the world,¡± Calaf explained. ¡°Everyday missionaries board boats to go spread the Holy Interface to all corners of the worldplain.¡± Why, Calaf¡¯s gestalt pick-me-up group didn¡¯t even know that the world was flat! Oh, when he was much higher level and in more esteem with the church, he would have to ensure that whatever town they hailed from received a proper orphanage and study hall. Port Town was grimy. The swamp did not enjoy being drained out and kept at bay. It wanted back in, frequently. And multiple fingers of the fanned-out river delta passed through the city. Squat, flat boats drifted down the river, bringing foodstuffs up from farmland on less dire-gator-infested ground further up the river. A wall ¨C however squat ¨C and rivers, however murky and wide. No wonder Calaf somewhat felt at home in this town. In the ways it was unfamiliar it was truly unfamiliar, but in the ways that mattered it was just like home. That stifling pressure of humidity beating down on him was new, though. Never got this steamy back in Riverglen.
First thing the group needed to do was sell off all the dire-gator skins and dire-cassowary pelts they¡¯d managed to scrounge up in the swamp. Calaf hauled his portion of this bounty to the market and then sold them off in addition to a quarry¡¯s worth of plainskarst he¡¯d had crammed into his inventory for the past week or so. In the junction, this common building material sold for a mere gold piece per pop. But here, out of its element¡­ ¡°Well hot damn!¡± said a merchant. ¡°Give ya 20 a piece, easy.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ll pay 22 a piece!¡± said another merchant. ¡°It¡¯s so rare we get quality building materials down here.¡± Calaf was a one-man city wall subcontractor. And his market manipulation would largely fund his journey for the next four or so stations. Alas, despite his money problems being behind him, there was not much to spend it on. Steel weaponry still ruled the day even here, so far from Granite Pass. So it would be until Firefield. Newly loaded with coin, Calaf marched directly to the local bank. Again, the Holy Church of the Menu offered basic banking features as an act of charity for its flock. No interest could be gained, as the Interface didn¡¯t quite handle that kind of calculation. But it would preserve his new treasure horde should he die, be indisposed, or be otherwise beset by highwaymen. He could always withdraw it all in the next town when it came time to upgrade his kit.
With banking and market duty done, the group reconvened near the coast. Boats of all kinds gathered at the edge of the river and in a natural port hemmed in by a cape. This is where food was loaded from the shallow river boats into larger seaworthy ships for transport to outlying smaller settlements off the path. Everything north of here was serviced by a network of snaking rivers. But even Riverglen had a small port some miles south and west that allowed for trade with this region, the breadbasket of the world. There was nothing technically stopping Calaf from hopping on a boat and heading back home, or for him to have taken a boat here. But it was not exactly sporting in the spirit of the pilgrimage. Along the coast was a series of inns, mostly servicing gruff sailors than relatively low-level pilgrims. The group turned inland and followed a riverside path until they found a less¡­ rowdy inn to spend the night. ¡°So where are all the farms?¡± the pick-up group asked, several times once they were settling into a cozy little inntop loft. ¡°Further north. Up and out of the swamp,¡± Calaf said. ¡°You¡¯ll pass them by on the road during the next leg of the journey.¡± There were pilgrimage-related activities they could partake in around Port Town, of course. It was the birthplace of the Scout, so it was said, and that brought with it a series of shrines and churches that dotted the canals. Sewers were here, too ¨C a twisting labyrinth of drainage tunnels beneath the town. Far more dangerous than Riverglen¡¯s relatively tame underground sewer system. Exhausted from the long day¡¯s swamp traversal, the party retired. Calaf sat there for thirty or more minutes. Let the others fall asleep. Then, when he was certain he wouldn¡¯t be disturbed, he rolled out of his cot and went out into the night.
Port Town was still lively enough after dark. Unlike all the other towns so far, populated largely by pilgrims eager to get to their inn to rest well for another day¡¯s travel, Port Town was bustling with more secular activity. The docks themselves were just the most obvious and loudest example. If rumor were to have it, there should be a guild of cutthroats in town, those who would have no moral scruples about taking artifacts stolen right out of the hands of a poor, selfless Pryor. Calaf walked through the darkened streets, passing by numerous other figures on their own furtive quests. Few torchlights were out this late at night ¨C the whole town was made of wood, after all. Instead, most travelers merely used one of the more utility-minded blessings of the Holy Interface: night vision! Doors and a few windows glowed with a slight greenish outline. Many more were outlined red at this hour ¨C locked. Benches and other public use spaces were an inviting bluish. Pursuing this lead in any other context other than attempting to bring un-Menued apostates to justice would be so incredibly sinful. But Calaf was on a mission, a pursuit of a trail that honor demanded he dare not lose. Even so, he almost missed his mark. A nondescript wall, one of only a few made of stone in these parts, designated a deep and sunken cistern. There was one wooden door high up, accessible only by winding stone steps. It was locked tight. But, down on street level, half-covered in the dirt, was a lone tiny stone amidst mud and straw. A sliver of green designated an intractable object ¨C so small that even with the Interface it would be so easily overlooked. Calaf ¡®clicked¡¯ the rock with his boot and it sunk in. There was a muffled gliding of stone along stone, and a man-sized false wall opened three paces away. At last. He was making progress. Rumor had it that the thieves¡¯ guild met in secret in the scarcely patrolled and occasionally flooded drainage tunnels of Port Town. If anyone could have the desire, resources, and ability to sell pilfered church relics, it would surely be found here. Calaf gazed into the tunnels beyond. It was dark, even the Interface just barely highlighting the surroundings. Still, the young knight took a step forward, keeping his weapon and shield at the ready to fend off any traps.
Chapter Eighteen: Den of Thieves
Traps appeared sooner rather than later. A simple trip wire sat across the route, one highlighted by the interface. Once tripped, an elaborate system of pulleys along the ceiling did get highlighted a warning orange at least. Flint on flint induced a quick burst of flame that engulfed a ball of pitch. Another fallen counterweight fell, causing this makeshift fireball to be sent careening towards the narrow walkway ¨C which was to say, directly at Calaf¡¯s head. A steel kite shield preserved Calaf¡¯s precious hit points (and the integrity of his facial features). The fireball splatted against the shield, fell to the ground, and swiftly smoldered out. He would have to tread carefully from now on. There were not a lot of clues regarding where to go. Calaf was no Scout ¨C not even a Trailblazer, really, so the full list of skills and passive abilities that would allow him to highlight the faintest of footsteps down these corridors was unavailable to him. Ah, if he could have possibly enlisted Gerard in this, he may have had a better time of it. But it was not all stumbling around in the dark (though there was a lot of that). He still had the basic-level highlighting ability available to anyone. And it found quite a few false bricks embedded into the walls. Calaf tried the first one he could find. The brick sunk deep into the wall. Another false wall raised, revealing¡­ a treasure chest with a gleaming golden lock mechanism. ¡°Has to be fake.¡± Calaf shook his head. ¡°Not going for it.¡± And so, the aspiring Paladin left this very obvious booby trap behind, looking for slightly less conspicuous routes forward. Another floor-mounted interactable sat beneath an overturned bucket. A bit less obvious this time. Calaf pressed it with his boot. This time, an ankle-height spiked vice contraption flew out of a flooded gutter not two paces in front of Calaf. If he¡¯d continued onward ¨C and hadn¡¯t been wearing heavy steel armored boots ¨C he¡¯d have suffered a crippling Status Effect: Broken Leg. (-90% movement speed, -90% to all Agility calculations, requires a healer to cleanse). Not for the first time, Calaf questioned the wisdom of proceeding down here alone. Yet, he certainly didn¡¯t want to involve an unaffiliated group of near-novices in either the relic theft case or his own personal chivalric quest for justice. Still, he carried onward. To a dead-end flanked by two deep pools of water. Here there were two points of egress: a pull chain connecting to some unseen mechanism in the ceiling, and another false brick highlighted by the interface. Both seemed a little¡­ obvious. Part of him wanted to try the brick given the nature of what kind of organization he was looking for. But they could be expecting that. He thought it out some more. The guild hall he was searching for here met in secret. They were borrowing this space, built into ruins that existed long before the Ancient Heroes of Yore. They didn¡¯t have the luxury to custom-build secret passages into this cistern so much as they were just borrowing preexisting false walls and switches meant for much older purposes. Calaf tried the pull chain. Immediately there was a gurgling sound. A whirlpool formed in the leftmost drainage pool. Slowly, steadily, the pool drained, revealing stairs and a damp corridor leading off to a ladder. Calaf examined this ladder ¨C relatively bereft of rust. Meaning it was either not placed in this pool indefinitely or was otherwise well-maintained. This path forward, he could work with.
A wide, round chamber ¨C a circular stone and wood platform over a deep reservoir, awaited in the cold stone-brick heart of Port Town¡¯s drainage network. The stone floor itself was high and dry ¨C no evidence of recent flooding. Plenty of room to set up a hidden base beneath the streets and avenues of the busy port. A handful of ruffian-looking fellows waited around a makeshift table. Calaf scanned their interfaces. Mostly higher-level twenty-somethings. Not a battle Calaf would be winning alone, but a small enough level delta to where these thieves would at least try to negotiate. Killing a fully armored near-peer at level even with a group still required a bit of effort. ¡°Welcome to the thieves¡¯ guild,¡± said a lazy, droning voice belonging to the highest-level figure in the cistern ¨C a level 39. ¡°We heard your armor clangin¡¯ about on the ladder twelve minutes ago. Not exactly our usual clientele.¡± Calaf emerged into some torchlight. ¡°You a church guard? This a sting?¡± asked the presumed leader. ¡°Just a wayfarer.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The ringleader read Calaf¡¯s title and status off the interface. He scratched at an unshaven beard, steely grey eyes gazing at Calaf through the dark. ¡°Right. Well, if you¡¯re buyin¡¯ or selling we¡¯ve hardly got a taboo against doing business with knights. Greetings, morally scrupulous paladin. I am:¡±
Name: Metzger, Humble Custodian, Thieves Guild
Rank: Thief(?)
Level: 39
Status: 67/67 HP (Shady)
Yep. By far the strongest person in the room. His relative dearth of HP offset by highly useful mid-level Scout skillsets. ¡°Good day, sir,¡± Calaf did a little bow, as trained. ¡°Are you in the business of acquiring holy relics?¡± ¡°Not dispelling the suspicion that this is some kind of elaborate church sting,¡± said Metzger. The others in the group fanned out along the flanks. Calaf took a subtle step back to ensure they were all in a one-hundred-eighty-degree cone in front of him. The ideal engagement positioning for a shielder, stalwart, or any higher ranking thereof. ¡°There¡¯s someone who¡¯s been stealing church relics. A pair of criminals. Apostates, threatening to throw every stop along the pilgrimage route into chaos. I¡¯m trying to stop them.¡± ¡°Apos-who?¡± Metzger¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know we¡¯re legitimate businessmen. Read our names off the menu. We¡¯re on-brand, same as you.¡± Calaf eyed the group warily. ¡°Yes, but, you¡¯re all thieves. One step up from bandits out in the field, living most un-Menuly lives.¡± Some of the lesser thieves scoffed. ¡°Oh? If our lives are so against the glories of the Menu, why do we fit so well into its class system?¡± Metzger asked. ¡°Thief is a job just like any other. Why, none other than your besainted Thief himself was among the four holy heroes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not.¡± Calaf stomped his foot. ¡°That¡¯s not true at all. The Scout was an honorable, fleet-of-foot vanguard for the heroes. He was no simple brigand.¡± Church scriptures were clear. ¡°Oh. Some Pryor tell your that?¡± Metzger laughed. ¡°As a matter of fact my martyred foster father taught me everything I know.¡± Calaf puffed himself up, renewing his grip on his shield. ¡°And if a lowly thief were among the olde heroes, why, there¡¯s surely no reason for him to lie!¡± Brigands on the right slunk past, flanking Calaf¡¯s 180-degree cone of defense. He took a few steps back¡­ ¡°Funny you should say that,¡± Metzger mused, looking past the outnumbered Stalwart. ¡­ right into a hulking and fleshy wall that had not been there moments prior. A fist the size of Calaf¡¯s entire head struck a percussive blow against the Stalwart¡¯s steel shoulder plates. ¡°Gents, leave him for Bruce,¡± Metzger said with a sinister grin.
Enter Bruce.
Name: Bruce
Rank: Monk, Thieves Guild
Level: 60
Status: 119/120 (Sniffles)
Weapons: Fists.
Level 60! Wearing naught but a toothy grin and plain clothes, and even then, one blow to at-level armor had shorn twenty HP off Calaf¡¯s health.
Name: Calaf
Status: 79/99 HP
Bruce was twice Calaf¡¯s height and about Calaf¡¯s height stretched horizontally too. All muscle, of course. And that class, ¡®Monk¡¯. Not one Calaf was familiar with. ¡°Funny thing about those church teachings.¡± Metzger took a sip of wine before he continued. ¡°They prioritize combat and pilgrimage parties at the expense of everything else. Oh, societally useful skills like farming and smithing get you some levels, sure. But clearing out traps, picking locks? You can do it for years and not gain ten levels. Church doctrine is biased towards church builds, ja? Hence why they reward our scouting skillset far more than our burglary kit.¡± ¡°Burglary is a sin!¡± Calaf wheeled around and threw his shield up. ¡°It¡¯s only right and proper to avoid rewarding such immoral behavior.¡± Bruce swung again with a heavy wind-up, full force punch. Calaf held his shield up to block, and went flying back. Critical hit!
Name: Calaf
Status: 12/99 HP
The kite shield should block one hundred percent of all damage. Meaning Bruce¡¯s strength values were so prodigiously high that it was breaking all manner of Menu-vaunted protections and blessings. ¡°Now Bruce here is what we call a Monk. Not a monastic title mind you. Combat-focused, a spinoff of battlemage around level 12 that forsakes magic for inner cultivation. Off-meta for the church¡¯s pilgrimages. Fighting dire-gators and fire dire-geckos with your bare hands is not good for anyone¡¯s life expectancy. So, anyone who survived to level 60 must be particularly powerful¡­¡± Calaf fell to his knees. On the flanks, the other thieves put their knives away. They were unneeded. The battle was between bodyguard Bruce and Calaf, and it was effectively won already. ¡°Funny thing, we did get a few Brandless in here earlier. Somewhat infrequent customer but I¡¯m aware of her,¡± Metzger said. ¡°Wanted to sell a few relics for inflated prices. Almost laughed her out of the cistern before she explained their importance as more than just dusty old saint¡¯s bones.¡± Bruce looked down at Calaf with a neutral expression on his face. Even one more blow would finish this. ¡°But Riverglen is a long way from here, even by boat. An artifact that can control the power of beasts down in the glen is of limited utility here. Why buy relics we can¡¯t truly use when we can just go for one much closer to home?¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to¡­¡± Calaf spat out blood. ¡°Steal Port Town¡¯s relic? The guards are already alerted to Jelena¡¯s crimes. You¡¯ll never get anywhere near it, thief.¡± ¡°Bah. Guards are mostly on my payroll anyway.¡± Metzger motioned to Bruce. ¡°Finish it quick. And preserve his arm ¨C amputated brands are worth a pretty penny on the black market.¡± Calaf tried to rise to his feet and found he had to steady himself with the blunt end of his spear. Bruce approached, knuckles cracking. ¡°Woulda sicced Bruce on Jelena too, if it weren¡¯t for that freak of a mountain man with her.¡± Bruce pulled his fist back for another full-force punch. Calaf held his shield out futilely.
Chapter Nineteen: Double Back
Bruce wound up, trebuchet projectile of a fist balled up, more than enough to finish off the remaining 12 HP on Calaf¡¯s rapidly fading health bar. Why, at this rate he would never encounter Jelena again. Funny how his thoughts turned to his rival at a time like this. Hmmm. What would she do in this situation? Dodging ¨C a disgraceful act under the Menu ¨C would be the only thing that could save him now. Even so, he¡¯d still have to overcome this glacier of a man. Calaf turned off the Interface just as Bruce began to slowly force the muscles of his massive arm forward. The knight jumped back, and Bruce shotgun-punched nothing but air. ¡°Oh. Are Stalwarts allowed to do that?¡± Metzger stifled a chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re more of an apostate than we are.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lecture me, thief.¡± Calaf spat. ¡°Besides, I learned it from a friend.¡± Calaf let out a morose chuckle. The murderer of his foster father ¨C a friend? Never! Though, mortal enemies could make fair teachers, in a sense. Eh, the Port Town Thieves Guild didn¡¯t need to know the ins and outs of his rivalry with the relic thief. ¡°Hey, we pay our taxes and trade our stolen goods within the Interface. We¡¯re practically legitimate businessmen.¡± Metzger got up from his desk, wine in hand, and made for a far door. ¡°Hurry up, Bruce.¡± Another strike, another dodge that sent Calaf¡­ flush up against the far wall. Nowhere to run now. Bruce began to wind up again¡­ What could possibly save Calaf now? Just as Bruce prepared another mighty blow, a shadowy blur moved along the cistern rafters.
Special Skill: Double Attack Description: Next attack hits twice
Skill: Sneak Attack Description: Quadruples damage when attacking from behind.
A figure in robes damp from a drizzle outside leaped up at around Bruce¡¯s neck height. High-pressure blood spray splattered over the cistern walls. Bruce¡¯s stockpile of hit points had a chunk taken out of it, down to eighty with the first blow, then all the way down to the low forties with the double attack¡¯s second strike landing a lucky critical hit. Critical Hit!
Name: Bruce
Status: 41/120 (Dumbfounded)
Calaf leapt to his feet. Bruce was already turning to take a swing at this new foe. But his rescuer¡¯s light armor wouldn¡¯t last more than a hit and a half from the mountainous monk. A shield bash turned Bruce away from the attacker at his back, exposing him to more sneak attacks. But Calaf didn¡¯t have the HP to last another hit against Bruce either ¨C let alone the rest of the thieves in this cistern. There was a narrow path by which Calaf and his new ally may be able to turn this around, and it ran through Bruce¡¯s unarmored jugular. Twin knives sliced into Bruce¡¯s mountainous form. Plainclothes offered little defense, but there was just so much HP and the knives possessed relatively little in the way of damage multiplier such that, sans sneak attack damage bonuses, they still just shaved tiny slices off the remains of Bruce¡¯s mammoth health bar. Defense-minded Calaf would have to put his newly crafted spear to the test. A second shield bash inflicted the discombobulation stat onto Bruce, HP falling into the mid-twenties. They had to land the final blow before Bruce could get a proper hit out¡­ Calaf¡¯s spear flew forward. No time nor stamina left for any special techniques. But¡­ Critical Hit! The spear embedded itself right into Bruce¡¯s heart. The result of this one-in-a-million blow was seen by all in the Menu¡¯s Interface.
Name: Bruce
Status: -18/120 (Gored)
A personal best with regards to Calaf¡¯s damage on a single blow. And more than enough to kill Bruce dead. The mountain collapsed onto the stone floor with a mighty thud. XP was awarded when the battle ended. But the rest of the thieves¡¯ guild had put their weapons away. Experience and gold for felling such a high-level foe flowed into Calaf and his mysterious rescuer¡­
Items Obtained:
Gold x 95This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Sewer Trash x6
Mark of the Thieves Guild x2 Experience: 200 xp
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 25:
Strength: 35
Endurance: 50 (+1)
Agility: 23 (+1)
Intelligence: 17 (+2)
Charisma: 14 (+1)
Arcane: 6
Luck: 25 (+3)
A bit off-meta as far as leveling up goes. But he did crack that crucial Endurance threshold. He¡¯d be able to don heavy armor for the endgame stations. And as for his mysterious ally:
Gerard Leveled Up! Level 22
Strength: 20 (+4)
Endurance: 16
Agility: 41 (+5)
Intelligence: 25 (+2)
Charisma: 18 (+2)
Arcane: 8
Luck: 33 (+3)
Gerard, their handy scout, twirled his knives around. All at once the pair was back at full HP, full stamina, and with a moderate stat bonus to match. ¡°Fortunate timing!¡± Calaf said, then turned his shield towards the rest of the thieves¡¯ guild. Only, Metzger and the others had beat a hasty retreat. One of the thief class¡¯s special techniques was withdrawing all stealthy-like. Slinking away was not necessarily smiled upon by the Menu scriptures, but it was in their toolkit. Calaf and Gerard had the cistern to themselves ¨C well, themselves and Bruce¡¯s festering corpse. ¡°So, what happened to bring you down here?¡± Calaf asked, putting away his spear. ¡°Eh, y¡¯know, just went for a walk¡­¡± Gerard checked under Metzger¡¯s plain desk. He stealthily pocketed some bottles of wine, then used ¡®Loot¡¯ on Bruce¡¯s corpse for some extra gold. ¡°¡­ Not at all trying to hawk some wares on the black market,¡± Gerard concluded. Calaf nodded. It was fortunate that he¡¯d happened by at this time, and followed Calaf into that secret passage in the cistern, and knew the way through all those wily traps. Yes, it was a good thing they had a morally upstanding Scout in their party, rather than an unscrupulous thief. But alas, the thieves¡¯ guild had escaped. And they seemed to have plans for the reliquary of Port Town. What more could Calaf do to counter this new threat?
The Port Town cathedral guards rebuffed all warnings Calaf gave about the cathedral reliquary. That night, it was far too late to wake the bishop, they said. Then in the morning, the line was that the guard had already been doubled for this pilgrimage season. What else could he do, if nobody would even heed his warning? Why, the guards wouldn¡¯t even explore the cistern network. Maybe they really were on the payroll. The three other members of the party were none the wiser to the miniature adventure Calaf and Gerrard had been through that night. As far as anyone knew, they¡¯d all been asleep. ¡°Huh, did you two gain levels while we weren¡¯t around?¡± Sarah asked as the group prepared to head out. ¡°Ah, yes. We encountered a dire-rat while looking for the loo,¡± Gerard said. No evidence of the thieves guild remained, even after the pair checked the cistern again on a lark come daylight. They¡¯d filtered out into the aqueduct network and were off somewhere about town. Still, Calaf wondered what they were planning, and where their machinations would cause trouble next¡­
The group remained well ahead of the glut of pilgrims that heralded peak season (the plains and swamps were a frequent roadblock for all but the most combat-focused). Calaf was rapidly integrating as a fifth member of this new party, the designated tank and defense-minded shielder. The former shielder, Jorge, was now an alternate tank and typically just two-handed his mace. Sarah seldom had to heal anyone other than Calaf these days. Gerard¡¯s surprise level-up helped a great deal on the damage front. And of course, Isaac was beginning to enhance his shattered two-hander with elemental damage as a sort of sub-dps. The group mustered at the northern gate to Port Town after a quick stop at the market for some additional rations. The squat wooden gate awaited, as did many more miles of endless swamp. A commotion gathered at the north gate. Still, the party squeezed through and out of the town¡¯s squat walls. The swampy canopy on this northern half of the delta rapidly waned, giving way to rolling fields cordoned off by simple meandering thatched wooded fences. And in these fields, they saw¡­
Name: Dire-Cow x3
Title: Bovine, Domesticated Beast
Level: 65
Status: 1567/1567 (Well-fed)
¡°Huh.¡± Calaf said audibly. That was¡­ a higher level than expected for cattle in the region. Most were capped around the mid-forties. Still, perhaps some farmers just overfed them or used them for a dire-bovine fight club. The cultures of the various regions along the path were unique. Anything could happen. Onward, the party marched. The roads through this portion of the delta were rather lax, meandering with the river. It was an easy journey, until the dire-cassowarys blocked the road at a rather swampy junction.
Name: Dire-Cassowary (x4)
Title: Terror Bird, Beast
Level: 45
Status: 500/500 (Out for Blood)
The exact limit of the Delta¡¯s level range. And a bit much for level twenties to try and take on, certainly in a pack. ¡°Hmm. I¡¯d heard these were supposed to be solitary birds,¡± Sarah said. The way was blocked. Rather than wait for more pilgrims to show up and form a temporary alliance to divide and conquer, the party doubled back. Junctions with minor trading posts and riverside docks awaited every twelve miles or so. It was roughly the distance a cart laden with goods could travel in a day. Travel from the farm to the crossroads, load your goods onto a river boat, and head for Port Town. Some of these larger junctions were small hamlets themselves. The idea was to go double back and take another crossroads further inland, then keep traveling north towards the next station on the itinerary. But at this nameless junction, they found another roadblock. ¡°The dire-gators have gone haywire!¡± said a local merchant. ¡°Crawled out of the river at level 52!¡± Calf stopped the party. ¡°Level 52?¡± he asked the merchant. ¡°What level were they before?¡± ¡°Thereabouts 26.¡± Double the expected range. Suddenly those dire-cassowarys seemed the lesser roadblock. Why, that was the exact symptom that befouled the other stations with pilfered relics. With Jelena nowhere to be found, it had to be the thieves guild making good on their machinations. Over-leveled dire-gators waited in the shallows along the roadside to their south. Aggressive on the best of days, an encounter with even one would mean death. ¡°Well, the plan hasn¡¯t changed,¡± said Jorge. ¡°Everything should be¡­ tamer, further from the river. We¡¯ll head inland, be in Firefield within 3 days.¡± Firefield itself would have unique dangers from the moment they entered the region. ¡°I am honor-bound to return to Port Town and at least assist in clearing the route,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Continue onward. You have a full party and have gained all manner of XP in our short time together. You¡¯ll do fine up to the border at least. If you¡¯re still in Firefield when I return, we can always regroup.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ll miss ya,¡± said Isaac. ¡°Before I go¡­¡± Calaf approached Jorge and brought up a trade menu
Calaf ¡¤ Steel Kite Shield (x1) To: Jorge ¡¤ Banded Steel Shield of Finesse (x1)
¡°There. It offers 100% physical defense,¡± Calaf said. ¡°It¡¯ll save Sarah all manner of healing mana over the long run.¡± Calaf tried out his new buckler. It was an uneven trade, immediately, but good deeds were the cornerstone of charity, and this less-than-total physical blocking shield had its advantages. ¡°Until we meet again,¡± Calaf said. Somewhere along the path, they would be reunited. He was certain.
Chapter Twenty: Double-Crossed
Before parting ways, Gerard made a point of patting Calaf on the back. Patted a supply pouch too for some odd reason. ¡°Good luck, we¡¯re all counting on you,¡± Gerard said. Jorge nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll be in Firefield for some time. We¡¯ll meet up there.¡± All parties stayed in Firefield for a while. The levels there took a noticeable bump up, and it only got worse in every other area. Still, there wouldn¡¯t be any other parties following in their footsteps if Port Town was afflicted by this over-leveling issue. Yes, for the good of the pilgrimage, and tens of thousands of faithful down the route, Calaf would have to help resolve this issue.
A riverboat arrived at the junction, as scheduled. This issue was already well-known back in Port Town. Dire-gators sunbathed along the northern and southern approaches, rendering the only safe path into town by boat. Calaf booked passage on a low-bowed river boat. Its cargo of dire-bovines was delayed by the recent leveling issues, but the riverboat captain was still desperate to make some kind of money off this scheduled journey. Jorge and company left down the inland crossroads. Aside from some over-leveled dire-cows their journey ought to have been relatively safe away from the river. Calaf quickly refocused on his own quest. Level fifty-plus dire-gators gazed up at the boat as it paddled its way downriver. If any of them wanted to come and have a bite, neither Calaf nor the paltry level thirty-something boat guards would be particularly capable of stopping them. Nevertheless, the boat continued onward. Past a roadblock of sunbathing gators, and past a glut of marooned level twenty-something travelers at the next junction over. The boat stopped to pick up refugees and ferry them back to Port Town. This occurred several times along the path, until the boat was carrying as many passengers as it would have held foodstuffs previously. Calaf gave his seat up for a particularly beleaguered-looking swamp peasant. Some hours passed, and the ferry boat paddled its way through a gap in the Port Town wall. Riverside docks allowed all number of boats to unload their cargo into the warehouse district. The recent disruptions meant that this was the only boat currently here.
Calaf debarked next to a warehouse, within eyesight of that cistern from before. The town was not as crowded as Calaf imagined it would be. Not like Granite Pass when it was similarly roadblocked. This meant the dire-gator¡¯s over-leveling was likely occurring to the south as well, trapping people back near the plains. The church district was similarly desolate. Calaf checked at the cathedral and found nobody seemingly concerned about the problems occurring on the land routes in and out of town. ¡°May I speak with the bishop?¡± Calaf asked a guard. ¡°I believe I know what¡¯s happening here.¡± But the guards were, just as before, utterly unapproachable. Wouldn¡¯t give him the time of day. It was probably just the dour mood and the glut of powerful creatures just outside the walls, but Calaf couldn¡¯t help but sense a whiff of corruption coming off the cathedral district in these parts. Checking the cistern again revealed it to be cordoned off and surrounded with guards. Well, Calaf thought, perhaps they were doing something about the thieves¡¯ guild after all. Still, there was little he could do here all alone. He was beginning to think that he¡¯d been too hasty to leap to the defense of the innocent. Certainly, nobody seemed to be in mortal danger around town right now. The route was disrupted, but church acolytes would no doubt be able to force the routes open in time for the main wave of peak pilgrimage season, just as they¡¯d done down south. Maybe it would have been better to stick with the party and continue towards the desert, and the next station.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. It was while Calaf was lost in his own mind that he was approached by a trio in robes. Church guards. ¡°Calaf, of Riverglen?¡± asked the lead cleric. ¡°It is I.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been summoned to the cathedral,¡± the cleric said simply. ¡°Please follow us.¡± Finally, someone was listening to him. Calaf dutifully followed. The clerics were all level 36. Respectable for the region. At long last, Calaf could help cleanse a region from this horrible curse of overleveling and bring a gang of relic thieves to justice! Just one more act of chivalry on the long road to a proper rematch with Jelena.
The three clerics escorted Calaf into the cathedral and past a quiet garden meant for pensive recollection. They marched in near-total silence into the cathedral¡¯s monastic cloister. No doubt the bishop required a quiet area for Calaf¡¯s debriefing. The path came to an end at an austere chamber, scarcely enough room for a meeting, let alone a bedroll. Perhaps the bishop wanted to have this clandestine meeting in secret? The mid-level clerics left Calaf in there without much fanfare at all. He waited an uncomfortably long time before moving to pry open the door. Two of the clerics were still there, flanking the door on either side. ¡°Is the bishop going to hear my testimony?¡± Calaf asked, a bit of frustration overwhelming his attempt at knightly composure. ¡°Wait here,¡± said one of the clerics. Calaf raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be meeting with the bishop, am I?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m bound by notions of honor and chivalry to respect your authority as presumed clerics of the church, but I suspect there¡¯s something greater going on here¡­¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve met the bishop.¡± Came a voice from behind ¨C from within the bare-bones room. Nowhere to hide. Could¡¯ve been a thief or scout skill. Or maybe there was a hidden passageway somewhere. Ah, it hardly mattered. What did matter was that this figure now in the room with him was Metzger, curator of the thieves¡¯ guild. And he was wearing clerical robes. And his title now was:
Name: Metzger Cross, Bishop of Port Town
Title: Cleric, Most Holy Church of the Menu.
The tallest cleric burst into the room. It was a tight fit for three. ¡°Trade your items and don these robes,¡± said the cleric. A trade window appeared. All items, armor, and weapons on the Stalwart¡¯s possession for a single set of minimal-armor rating monk¡¯s robes. Calaf immediately thumbed the ¡®reject¡¯ button. He turned back to Metzger. ¡°What is this? You impersonating a member of the church now? ¡°What? No. Thieves¡¯ guild is more a night gig.¡± Again, Metzger had brought his wine with him. ¡°They¡¯re not so different, y¡¯know. Both jobs require administrative skills, relic appraisal, all that.¡± ¡°So you had access to the Port Town reliquary this whole time?¡± Calaf¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°They were never stolen. But then, why didn¡¯t you take advantage of the level-altering relic long ago?¡± ¡°Ah, no sense in leaving you in suspense. Not like you¡¯re getting out of here without the vow of silence added to your brand.¡± Metzger leaned back in a simple, uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. ¡°You see, the scriptures say the church blessed the beasts of the field to control their levels. But we didn¡¯t know levels were actively regulated in real-time.¡± Calaf shielded his branded hand from the cleric and Metzger. Who knew what they were trying to do to it? He received another lopsided trade request and nearly punched the Interface as it appeared to him in midair. ¡°¡­ mainline church up in the mountains ¡®n bones always handle that with their own dedicated Deacons. Purpose of most of these relics was apparently above the pay grade of even a bishop. But now that your quarry let slip what all those dusty old saint¡¯s scarfs are actually used for, figured we could turn a profit with it.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not trying to block the pilgrimage route,¡± Calaf guessed. Metzger shrugged. ¡°Not really. If you think about the animals that have been buffed, you could probably determine what we¡¯re after. You¡¯ll have plenty of time to puzzle it all out in the monastery.¡± A third trade request appeared. Calaf jammed the ¡®reject¡¯ button once more. ¡°Y¡¯see, when people go snooping around where the authorities don¡¯t want them, we make sure to sweep them up and bring them to the cloister. Vow of silence does wonders for keeping people quiet, as I¡¯m sure you can surmise.¡± Metzger chuckled. ¡°Many or most monks are whistleblowers really, brought in and confined to quarters, they all eventually take the vow of silence and live out their lives, defeated, as quiet friars silently adhering to the dictates of the Interface.¡± ¡°You¡¯re corrupt,¡± Calaf declared. ¡°This whole town is corrupt. The archbishops will hear about this¡­¡± ¡°Not from you. Again, vow of silence.¡± Metzger looked like he expected Calaf to laugh. ¡°What, did you not have monks in Riverglen? You think they took vows of silence and cloistered themselves up out of an act of faith?¡± Calaf scowled. Why, the martyred Pryor Yordan was responsible for organizing the cloister as well as the orphanage. Surely, he would never¡­ ¡°Well, you¡¯re a hardheaded one.¡± Metzger turned to the cleric at the door. ¡°These accommodations are too good for him. Take him to the cells until he agrees to, heh, watch his mouth.¡±
Chapter Twenty-One: Being Detained
Calaf was marched through the halls of the Port Town cathedral¡¯s cloistered monastic wing, flanked by no less than five level 30+ clerics. He still had his personal effects, but only because he kept declining that trade request. The Interface really did limit the ability to fight back in this situation. Fighting off these clerics would be a tall order with the level delta, even without their various cleric-y buffs they¡¯d bust out just as soon as any fighting started. But just having this constant demand to trade crop up in his vision also left him wrestling with the corrupt clerics¡¯ sabotage. Why, if a dissident or even someone who simply drew the ire of the corrupt Bishop Metzger Cross were isolated from all help or allies, confined to austere quarters, prevented from fleeing with high-level guards and zero opportunity to level up, Calaf could see how lesser common folk would surrender, make the trade, and accept a life in the cloister under a vow of silence. Surely, not all the monks and nuns in the Church of the Menu were so tragically silenced. Riverglen wasn¡¯t like this at all. It¡¯s Pryor had been a living saint, and the bishop most surely godly. Calaf was marched, fully armed and armored, into an even smaller and more austere cell than the plain monastic quarters he¡¯d been reintroduced to Metzger in. ¡°You¡¯ll be confined here until you trade for the robes and agree to have the vow of silence added to your Brand,¡± said the lead cleric. ¡°Hmph.¡± Calaf let out a defiant grumble, chest puffed out. ¡°I refuse. Have at thee!¡± Calaf brought out his spear and held his shield high. Immediately, with barely a flick of the wrist, the lead cleric countered:
Brother Nucci Casts: Paralyze! Effect: 33% Base Chance of Paralyzing Any Enemy Your Level or Below (or equivalent).
All at once, Calaf was sent to his knees as if some sparking electric current had glued him to the floor. It was a clerical magic ¨C used to crowd control monsters while making a hasty retreat, or occasionally to bind monsters while a Brand was administered. That last utility left Calaf with a pang of fear in his heart ¨C it left human victims, too, unable to fight back against a Brand. But no silencing brand addendum was ever brought out. Instead, the two other clerics merely picked the Stalwart up by his shoulders (an impressive feat, two scrawny mages hauling a fully armored knight) and deposited him in the barren cell. The door was locked tight, the key in the cleric¡¯s possession. The Interface offered nothing usable within the room ¨C the door was an inaccessible red, with no other cubbyholes or even a loose brick highlighted. Calaf was detained by an apostate bishop, all possible friends or allies none the wiser.
Several days passed, per the Menu¡¯s timekeeping feature. There was just the thinnest of light through a high slit-like window that made all light that managed to sneak into the sunless cell. This thin ray of light cast the room in a uniform, clouded-over grey. Calaf could subsist off the rations he had in his menu. Maybe that was why his captors hadn¡¯t showed up with daily meals. The Stalwart paced the room, taking stock of his potential allies. Gorman? Back in Riverglen, probably in the sewer. Helping pilgrims. No clue that Calaf was in Port Town, certainly not detained within the cathedral itself. Deacon? Back in Vault, as far as Calaf knew. Way off the pilgrimage route with even less of a chance of being able to get a message out. If he were aware there was no doubt he¡¯d come running. But he was waaaay off the board of reasonable parties to involve. Likewise, dearest Charlotte, his betrothed, was in Riverglen. If he could somehow get a messenger dire-pigeon to her, or even to that Friar at Plains Junction. Yes, surely any member of the church in good standing would be able to bring this fiendish false Bishop Cross to justice. Now how to get the message out¡­ Other than that, there was Jorge and the party. It would be several more days still before they got to Firefield, assuming no problems occurred. And it would be several more days or weeks before they realized that Calaf was yet to check in. In a best case scenario, the party would have to double back to Port Town and independently discover Calaf in this cell. And they wouldn¡¯t even head out until Calaf¡¯s food supplies were pretty much run out. And the worst-case scenario, they would make it to Port Town and start snooping around, only to wind up detained by the heretical bishop.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. At some late hour, Calaf¡¯s pacing came to an end. There was Jelena, loathed though he was to admit the fact. She had an antagonistic relationship with the church ¨C certainly no scruples against raiding a cathedral. And she also had some kind of less-than-friendly relationship with the thieves¡¯ guild in this part. Alas, she had no clue he was here, and likely wouldn¡¯t care. Calaf sighed. His rations would last for some time yet. Just needed to wait for an opportunity ¨C to get a message out, or to escape himself.
There¡¯d been muffled screaming from some other cell in the cloister. It took a day before Calaf realized it was a person screaming out of their own cell¡¯s narrow window, calling for aid. This stranger must have been in this monastery/dungeon awhile. At around day four (by Calaf¡¯s estimate) the cries for assistance turned into a despair-filled whimper. By the next day, the other cells were quiet. Somewhere within the cathedral, there was likely another silent monk walking around, head down.
Sometime on day seven, footsteps rang down the hall. They stopped at the locked door. A key was jostled in the lock. Over in a corner, Calaf readied his shield and spear. The level gap is insurmountable within the Menu, Calaf thought to himself. Gotta try and fight just a little dirty. They¡¯re apostates ¨C smiting those who would profane the Menu is more important than dogmatic adherence to turn-based strictures! The door swung open. A cleric walked in ¨C level 31 ¨C likely wanting to try and force a trade window again. Hard to solo at Calaf¡¯s level, but he wasn¡¯t trying to stay here and take on the cleric in a straight fight. Once more, that obnoxious trade menu opened up, wanting Calaf to surrender all his effects for a paltry low-defense monk¡¯s robe. Calaf ignored it, leveled his shield, and charged forward. Not a shield bash, per the Menu, but more of a rush. The banded shield struck the false cleric on the chest and rammed the hapless holy man into the far wall with a thud. ¡°Aha!¡± Calaf cried, and rushed forward through the halls. He was out¡­ for now. But he was still in a monastery surrounded by berobed figures marching along, forlorn, in total silence. And there were others in at-level robes, paralysis spells prepped and at the ready. Still off Menu, Calaf swung at the nearest figure who looked vaguely antagonistic. He drew blood ¨C a paltry 2HP. And then Calaf was running for the nearest light source. Three ¨C no, five! ¨C thieves in cleric garb blocked the doorway. There was no choice but to fight, and the fight was one that was stacked against Calaf. What more could he do now? Why, it would take a miracle to overcome this roadblock now! The clerics approached with hefty maces (the clerical classes¡¯ preferred melee implement) in hand.
¡°Hey, now. What¡¯s all this then?¡± A rather twangy accent common to Autumn¡¯s Redoubt appeared from the light-filled courtyard behind the clerics. All at once they were pushed aside by a thin but mighty barrier-type apparatus that appeared as if out of thin air. A sandy brown-haired fellow in highly modified church robes strutted into the monastery between the newly-parted clerics. He was¡­
Name: Baldr, Arbiter of the Church.
Rank: Barriermeister
Level: 89
Status: 777/777 HP (Cocky)
¡°Where¡¯s your boss?¡± this new church arbiter asked the clerics. But none of them seemed to want to respond. They inched away from this prodigiously leveled arbiter. Baldr laid eyes on Calaf. He didn¡¯t say anything, but there was a glint that indicated he knew of Calaf by reputation. ¡°Ah, I was looking for you,¡± said Baldr with no indication if that was true or not. Baldr walked between his barriers to get to Calaf. Just then, a level forty cleric, one of the higher-level ones, probably a ringleader or at least possessing some pretension of authority, pressed his face to the barrier. ¡°Sir. We were not expecting a guest from the High Church at Demon Lord¡¯s Fall.¡± ¡°Eh, well, if we announce our arrival that gives some of the stations time to clean up the joint, make it look artificially presentable.¡± Baldr chuckled. ¡°This is to say, ehe, we need to ensure all the stations are in order for the pilgrimage season. There¡¯s a dangerous relic thief running around mucking things up, don¡¯tcha know?¡± ¡°Right. Of course, sir. If you¡¯ll just follow me I¡¯ll take you to the meeting room to await Bishop Cross,¡± said the level 40. Baldr looked to Calaf, who unsubtly shook his head as if to say, it¡¯s a trap. ¡°Eh, I¡¯ll reschedule,¡± Baldr said, then took Calaf by the hand and whisked him out of the monastery - and out of the cathedral entirely.
Outside, even an overcast sky looked like a beautiful symbol of freedom to the recently liberated Calaf. ¡°Walter said he ran into some under-leveled gate guard in the dire-worm pits,¡± Baldr said all at once. ¡°Oh? Yes. Yes! That was me,¡± Calaf said. ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ long story.¡± ¡°He said he found your complete flailing inability to do anything to the legendary monster kind of funny.¡± Baldr chuckled once more. ¡°He doesn¡¯t show it, but he thinks most people below level 50 or so are funny. What stood out to me ¨C he mentioned you had a church blessing upon you. One granted purely by Church big shots.¡± Deacon¡¯s blessing, ever recharging, to protect against any blow. The only reason they survived that dire-worm¡¯s bile-vomit attack. Of course, Deacon Deacon was just a midlevel wandering church ascetic. Nevertheless, Calaf explained the situation to his unexpected savior. ¡°Thank you so much for rescuing me,¡± Calaf said. ¡°I am in your debt.¡± ¡°Eh, I was going to have a look-see in the Port Town cloister anyway,¡± Baldr said. ¡°Would have found you eventually. Good job, making a break for it, though.¡± Calaf breathed a sigh of relief ¨C he truly was out of that prison ¨C and with a level 89 escort to ensure no more harm would come to him so long as he was in Port Town. ¡°Now.¡± Baldr¡¯s eyes gleamed; he could tell there was an interesting story behind all this. ¡°Why don¡¯t you explain why those clerics seemed to want to force you to take the monk robes.¡±
Chapter Twenty-Two: Cross Counter
The skies over Port Town were grey, ominous ¨C like the Menu tuned to one of its more obscure settings for some of the colorblind aspirants. Baldr walked through the port district chewing on some local delicacy. It didn¡¯t take much to notice a handful of tails ¨C both clerics in robes and more traditional thief-looking plainclothes types. Still, the high-level arbiter walked about without a care in the world. And so long as Calaf stayed near this unexpected savior, he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about any clerical ambushes either. Calaf explained the region¡¯s level up issues at length to Baldr as the latter ate some skewered fried fish smothered in sea salt. ¡°Mmm. So the town bishop is fudging the level numbers of the local beasts?¡± Baldr managed between bites. ¡°Would certainly explain why the cathedral gave me the cold shoulder. Still, while I noticed some over-leveled dire-gators on the way in, they¡¯re not actually disrupting pilgrimage traffic.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not?¡± With one last bite, Baldr finished off the fish. ¡°Lot of routes through the swamp. Lot of ferries on each finger of the delta to pick up the slack. Pilgrims will find their way here eventually. Which is to say, it¡¯s not my circus to corral.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not?¡± Calaf tilted his head. ¡°But the head bishop of Port Town is-.¡± Baldr interrupted him. ¡°Nope. Just making sure the pilgrimage route is secure. Going to swing north to Firefield next. Local corruption is the domain of local authorities.¡± ¡°But the thieves¡¯ guild are the local authorities,¡± Calaf protested. ¡°Guess the locals just love thievery then. They probably depend on corruption and bribes to shield their little mom-and-pop cobbler stores from competition, or skim goods off the top of various cargo ship holds.¡± ¡°Are you¡­ not an arbiter of the church? A defender against corruption and iniquity?¡± Baldr interrupted him. ¡°I¡¯m defending the church¡¯s pilgrimage route ¨C and by extension ¨C trade routes, to ensure a steady flow of aspirants north, and a consistent glut of dead, at-level monsters granting gold and XP. Oh, people talk about wanting their local authorities to be squeaky-clean moral exemplars, but at the provincial level, anyone who is anyone got where they were by greasing palms. It¡¯s what they want, a leg up on the other guy. Fast-tracked service for them and theirs. Someone benefits from having over-leveled dire-cows running around, pushing up the price of dire-beef. Bishop Cross is probably performing a favor.¡± The pair walked ¨C Baldr moving faster than anyone Calaf had ever seen despite still being at a casual pace, while the Stalwart struggled to keep up in the Barriermeister''s wake. When they reached the market district, they found a run on some of the butcher¡¯s stalls. Dire-cow meat was going for triple the asking price. While kebabs of deep-fried fire-gator were suddenly a rare delicacy. A gator kebab vendor went up and marked the price of his wares up another 15 gold while Calaf was watching! So that¡¯s their angle. ¡°It¡¯s all just market manipulation!?¡± Baldr nodded. ¡°Usually is.¡± The pair were within view of a great lighthouse on the natural cape sheltering Port Town from rougher seas. As it was daylight hours ¨C albeit overcast ¨C the lighthouse was not yet lit. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll bring this up at the next archbishop¡¯s meeting. Be sure to curtail some of the Port Town diocese''s more aggressive monastic recruitment schemes. Beyond that, I¡¯ve got to clear a route to Firefield.¡± Calaf frowned. This was not quite the cavalry of devoted church agents chopping at the bit to weed festering corruption out of this parish that he¡¯d been hoping and praying for during his days of captivity. They were nearly at the north gate. Any temporary commotion from the level editing of dire-gators had since died down. ¡°The Bishop of Port Town personally profaned the name of the Scout!¡± Calaf declared. Baldr stopped in his tracks and turned. A look on his face indicated that he required additional information. And so, Calaf explained the confrontation in the cistern, the nature of the thieves guild, and the conflation of their own holy Scout with some sort of pickpocketing brigand. ¡°Hmm. Is that so?¡± Baldr asked. ¡°Well, that¡¯s suddenly in my wheelhouse. Can¡¯t go having some local clergy conflating the Heroes of Yore with some apocryphal folk legend. You¡¯ve got my attention, but Bishop Metz has likely gone to ground by now. Unless you¡¯re expecting me to knock off the entire cathedral solo ¨C possible, but not my job description ¨C I¡¯m going to need some sort of lead.¡± ¡°Well, he¡¯s probably with the relic that controls creature leveling,¡± Calaf said all matter-of-factly. Baldr sighed, the kind of sigh that comes from having been involuntarily set up to serve as a mentor for someone who needs a great deal of mentoring. ¡°Look. Port Town doesn¡¯t have a proper reliquary.¡± Baldr talked extra slowly. ¡°It was assumed that such a public spot would just be a beacon for thieves, treasure hunters, hell, drunken sailors. They¡¯ve got the leveling relic, an item from the Thi- the Scout, and that¡¯s about it. Probably held on the Bishop¡¯s person.¡± Well, now they were back to square one. Couldn¡¯t do anything until they found Metzger. ¡°You have.¡± Baldr held up two fingers. ¡°Two hours. After which, I¡¯m walking through this gate and heading north. If you¡¯ve got a lead, I¡¯ll go investigate at least until the next dead end. That¡¯s what¡¯cha got. Surprise me.¡±
Calaf stomped back through the port district, making sure to avoid the cathedral district and the cistern. The tails that had followed them down through the port and market were no longer visible in the sparse crowds of midday. It¡¯s possible they were just very hidden, or perhaps they were simply more concerned with the level 89 elephant in the room. A great breeze off the ocean had inflicted Calaf with a status effect.
Effect: Chills Description: -2 to Agility, +5% damage taken.
Effect: Crestfallen Description: -5% reaction time. -1 Intelligence. -1 Charisma. -2 Arcane.
Huh. Arcane was rarely affected either way by status effects. Why, laypeople didn¡¯t know what that was even used for. Something of a dump stat, certainly for anyone without high-level battlemage techniques. ¡®Chills¡¯ was obviously due to the fierce sea breeze ¨C his armor was meant to protect from blows, not from southerly breezes. And as for ¡®Crestfallen¡¯¡­ None of this made any sense. Metzger and these apostate clerics were one thing. But even Baldr was rather nonchalant for a church arbiter ¨C the upper echelons of the Menu¡¯s faithful. The opposite of Walter really. Whereas that man was implacable and perhaps colorless, Baldr was a bit of a peacock. Seemed to treat his church duties as a chore. Maybe he¡¯d grown cynical from so many years of grinding levels? For the first time on this journey, Calaf wanted to head back to Riverglen. Maybe if he didn¡¯t find a lead by Baldr¡¯s timetable, he would just head out the southern gate before nightfall. Could always send a dire-pigeon to Firefield to let Jorge¡¯s party know not to wait for him.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. This little diversion in Port Town had delayed him by a week. Jelena was probably halfway to the Fellmarsh by now, with not a trail left to follow. Calaf sighed again. The time kept slipping ¨C nearly an hour had passed since Baldr¡¯s ultimatum with not a sign to speak of. As one last gambit, Calaf clasped his hands. ¡°Oh, holy Menu. Oh, most sacred interface. Hallowed be thy name. As you did for our forefather the Paladin, guide my hand to help aid the innocent.¡± Just a muttered prayer. Charlotte always suggested it in a pinch. As for whether it worked, Calaf hadn¡¯t personally seen a miracle occur. But the Menu was there to help, put on this earth to elevate humans above savage perdition. With another sigh, the Stalwart moved his hands down to his pockets. Alas, the miracle never happened¡­ His hand brushed against a weird knot in a pouch on his person. Odd, how long had that been there? He checked the pouch. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper. Not rubbish ¨C but a note, from Gerard. Huh. Calaf recalled Gerard patting him on the back all friendly-like before they parted ways. Had he been trying to sneak in a message? ¡°Secret passages.¡± This phrase, spelled wrong, of course, was scribbled atop a rudimentary but recognizable map of Port Town. A dozen dots ¨C one at the cistern, one at the cathedral, pockmarked the map, all connected with faint chalky lines that indicated catacombs or drainage channels. There was a signature curving sandbar that sheltered the port. And there, too, was a dot ¨C solitary, no connections to any others. A perfect hiding place. Secret passages, eh? Well, if he¡¯d known about this smuggled map earlier, he could¡¯ve snuck into the cathedral the old-fashioned way or maybe snuck out during his captivity. Still, it was most certainly a lead. And there was still time to surprise Baldr.
¡°Okay, you¡¯ve got my attention, kid,¡± said the arbiter when presented with evidence. ¡°Ah, let¡¯s head out. Might still be able to wrap this up in time to make it to Firefield on schedule.¡± The pair now stood on a dune, looking out at the lighthouse on the edge of the cape. It was a squat thing assembled from porous plainskarst imported up from Plains Junction. The only stone nearby that would sit on this barely-above-sea-level cape without toppling into the sea. Still, the lighthouse was a squat thing. But, according to the map, it was a potential thieves¡¯ den hideout. Baldr snapped his fingers, and immediately, a mostly transparent golden sheen surrounded the lighthouse in a box formation. It jutted out to sea a few dozen paces as well.
Custom Spell: Cage of Gold Effect: Surround a 100 by 100-yard square in a golden barrier equivalent to 10,478 HP. Lasts 24 hours or until dispelled by the caster.
¡°Heh. Little concoction of my own,¡± Baldr explained. ¡°Quadruple the range of the bog-standard cleric¡¯s barrier spell and sextuple the strength. Up at the end of the line us high levels invent new spells like this all the time.¡± Next, Baldr pulled out a dagger. An odd instrument for a cleric. It was jagged, with a bit of a serrrated edge. Still, at level 60 it was comparable in damage to any zweihander Calaf would be able to wield. ¡°Past level seventy or so, if they spec into melee builds the differences between cleric and battlemage become a little blurred,¡± Baldr explained. ¡°Step right through. Barrier¡¯s harmless to anyone in the party.¡± At long last ¨C an opportunity to learn how true high-ranking arbiters of the church operated. Calaf shadowed the high-level cleric closely, watching him work. Baldr took off through the golden mirage with an excited chuckle. Calaf followed. It was wise to let the higher-level church senior take the lead here. And yet, for a church arbiter, Baldr¡¯s mood seemed a little¡­ all over. It would still be an hour or two before the lighthouse was lit. The pair approached with little on the way of cover out here on the dune. A single door sourced from local oak was not so much kicked down as it was sliced into twelve dozen pieces by Baldr¡¯s barriers. A gentle kick with Baldr''s shin then caused the whole thing to collapse into a pile, easily swept aside. The room within was empty, some moldy remains of an abandoned lighthouse keeper¡¯s dormitory had not been used in some time. There was a spiral staircase carved out of stone as well, venturing up at a steep angle to the beacon, and down into a chamber built into the lighthouse¡¯s watertight foundations. Baldr hummed as he walked down the stairs and similarly disintegrated the next door into wood shavings. The Interface handled several quaint day-to-day actions. For instance, their eyes did not have to adjust to the pitch-black interior beneath the lighthouse. They saw clear as day six clerics and two plainclothes pickpockets, fussing over a map of the delta sunken into the plainskarst foundation. The two plainclothes thieves and one of the thieves in clerical robes pulled out knives and a spiked club, respectively. With another snap of his fingers, Baldr summoned another storm of barriers out of thin air. Three perfect grids right over his various targets. Before they could react, hopefully before they could ever notice anything was wrong, the trio was diced into pieces. The Interface listed their HP down in the negative-triple digits. Deader than anyone Calaf had ever seen, for sure. A level eight up against the sewer dire-rats critically hit a foe down to the negative-fifties once, but this was overkill of a kind seldom seen back in Riverglen. Next, Baldr took his knife and danced towards the nearest cleric. The cleric put up a purplish barrier of his own, but Baldr¡¯s knife shattered it in two hits, then killed the hapless cleric dead with a third. -3/67 HP. Four others remained in the room, startled and reeling and throwing up their own panic barriers. Baldr counted with:
Custom Spell: Shackles of Gold Effect: Restrain multiple targets with threadbare panes at the shoulders, knees, and neck.
The four crooked clerics were at once sprawled out and displayed vertically, arms frozen where they¡¯d been in the process of casting barriers or perhaps drawing maces or spiked mails. ¡°There we go,¡± Baldr said, triumphant. ¡°I have a sworn witness that testifies that you¡¯ve been conflating the Scout, vanguard of the Heroes of Yore, with some local folk thief. That¡¯s against church doctrine. And from sworn members of the cloth, even. Why, the penalty for that is¡­¡± ¡°Sir, the leveling issue¡­¡± Calaf managed. He didn¡¯t even want to look at the piles that remained of three of their opponents. Striking first when outnumbered was¡­ wise. But at Baldr¡¯s level nobody in this town was a true threat. He could have demanded a surrender at least. The code of chivalry dictated. ¡°Oh, right. Hmmm.¡± Baldr gazed around the room with his Interface. ¡°False brick there, three things to the right.¡± Indeed, a brick glowed a curious light blue over along the far wall. The chamber was circular, and Calaf walked past the restrained clerics on his way to check the wall. ¡°Sir, it¡¯s a¡­¡± Calaf held up a key ring with some rusty picks on the end. ¡°Ah, the lockpick of the, uh, Scout.¡± Baldr wasn¡¯t even looking at him. ¡°Used by the old hero in fact. A priceless artifact, and one imbued with the power of the Menu. Be worth a pretty penny, but I¡¯m sure the greybeards up at the Grand Cathedral will want to keep it on lock.¡± ¡°Do you want me to trade with you, sir?¡± ¡°Eh, keep it for now. There¡¯s one last thing. What was it.¡± Baldr paced a bit. ¡°Oh right.¡± The church arbiter turned to the nearest restrained cleric. ¡°You¡¯re boss. Bishop Metz. Where is he?¡± Terror filled the restrained man¡¯s face. ¡°F-firefield. He¡¯s gone to Firefield.¡± Baldr snapped. The golden barrier surrounding the man¡¯s neck shattered, as did the skin around the captive¡¯s neck. One minute the head was there, the next, it was gone. A trail of blood pointed somewhere off towards the darkened corner of the room. Calaf didn¡¯t dare look.
Name: Vic the Cleric
HP: -34/69 (Pretty dead)
Calaf brought his hands up to cover his gaping mouth. ¡°Not even.¡± He forgot to breathe. ¡°Not even anything left to consecrate. To commend to the crypts¡­¡± But Baldr merely walked up in front of the next captive. ¡°That guy telling the truth?¡± The captive only nodded vigorously, as much as his neck-restraint would allow. ¡°He left you all here to die.¡± Baldr said with a slight tremoring chuckle to his voice. ¡°Patsies. Leave the peons to die while the boss slinks off. Admire the gumption. Well, I was just heading to Firefield. What a coincidence. Got a thieves guild branch there?¡± Again, the arbiter snapped, and the captive¡¯s arm was instantly severed. Down to 2/45 HP in an instant. Baldr opened his mouth and said something, but Calaf couldn¡¯t hear anything over the screams. The Paladin path, starting from Shielder, was meant to protect the innocent. These men were¡­ not innocent. Apostates, even. And yet, they were unarmed prisoners. To his shame, Calaf found that the Holy Menu itself stifled any attempts he could take to intervene. The option to attack Baldr or defend the captives was simply not allowed under the Interface. Calaf and Baldr were in a party, after all. And even if he were to break that pact, the level difference was greater from Calaf to Baldr than between Baldr and any of the opponents he¡¯d just instantly gibbed into chunky salsa. ¡°I said: hey, new guy. It¡¯s getting late. Why don¡¯t you go light the beacon upstairs?¡± Baldr hadn¡¯t looked at Calaf since they entered the room. ¡°The¡­ light house?¡± Calaf looked to the now-armless captive as two other captives awaited their fate. ¡°R-right.¡± Already, the man with the impromptu amputation had dipped down to 1 HP. Bleeding out. Calaf went for his healing items before leaving the room. Maybe there was a chance¡­ healing herbs, or even just sleeping nettles to knock the man out. Only, the Menu didn¡¯t allow him to even provide this mercy. The cleric¡¯s name was in red. They were technically in a battle after all, no matter how one-sided, The Interface wouldn¡¯t allow trades or even to use a single potion on him. Calaf took a few steps towards the stairs. His skin crawled. Right at the door, he turned around. ¡°Sir?¡± he asked, weakly. ¡°Sun¡¯s getting low, newbie.¡± Baldr had taken to staring down a third terrified captive. ¡°Didja need anything?¡± ¡°W-why?¡± Calaf managed. For once, Baldr looked at Calaf with a rather unreadable grimace. ¡°Why what?¡± Baldr asked with a shrug, then severed the limb of another victim with a snap of his fingers. Calaf left without another word, screams of anguish echoing in his thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Desert Sabbatical
¡°Oh, right.¡± Baldr muttered quietly to himself as Calaf climbed up to ground level. ¡°Gotta deal with anyone who saw the thief¡¯s lockpicks.¡± Calaf kept the Scout ¨C or whoever¡¯s ¨C lockpicks in his inventory. One thing at a time, he¡¯d survive that once his next task was done. No harm could come to him while he was still in Baldr¡¯s party, at least. He hoped. The lighthouse beacon beckoned. Calaf lit it with a simple utility skill accessible to all but the dumbest sword-n-boarders. He gazed for a bit too long into the bonfire that called seafaring craft around the cape and to the safety of the port. Outside, that minor sheen of the golden barrier was still shimmering. It should allow Calaf to pass so long as he remained in Baldr¡¯s party. Not sure how long that would last. Ignoring the screams from the basement. Ignoring the singsong humming tune from the torturer rising over the screams. Calaf walked out onto the dunes. He approached the golden sheen that marked the barrier that should reject unwanted intruders ¨C that was keeping everyone trapped in this cage of gold. There was a new status effect. ¡®Queasy.¡¯ A timer counting down until he was overcome with the urge to hurl. He ignored it for a time. Calaf held his breath. He took a step forward¡­ and passed through the oil-slick sheen. Immediately the sunset grew a bit more vibrant, full of orange hues rather than a muffled golden filter. Alright, he was free from that butcher¡¯s shop¡­ Calaf immediately called up the Interface and disbanded his party. He kept walking, back into town, through the cathedral district, whose clerics were in a tizzy but too concerned with scrambling for the winds to pay their onetime captive any heed. Onward, Calaf walked. He walked out the north gate, shadowing the route he¡¯d traveled with Jorge¡¯s party a week ago, now. A few dire-gators slunk about in the water, back to their appropriate level already. Just past the city gates, the timer ran out and Calaf vomited.
It was at the first riverside junction that Calaf snapped back to reality and realized that he still had the Scout¡¯s holy relic on his person. Ah, not that he was technically a relic thief now or anything ¨C certainly, there was nobody of any rank left in the Port Town cathedral to accept the return. Affecting the regional level ranges turned out to not be some intrinsic part of removing the holy relics from their carefully-maintained pedestal ¨C you just choose the item via the Interface and press ¡®select¡¯. There¡¯s a list of level ranges ¨C it wasn¡¯t even some special training granted to the church higher-ups or magic used only by clerics. Kind of took the luster out of an arcane church ritual, really. There was no moon out tonight. Calaf turned inland and walked to the next junction, then spent the night at the tiny trading outpost¡¯s one minuscule inn. If Baldr ever noticed the party union was broken, he never came looking for his lower-level charge or the leveling relic. Sleep was not a willing thing, coming only with exhaustion. Dreams were forgotten as soon as they passed, with only the vaguest of sensations that they were all somewhat unpleasant. At sunup, Calaf awoke to a revelation. Jelena must truly have altered the leveling mechanics by accident. Having rejected the Menu and defiled her Brand, how else could she have interacted with the artifacts? She wasn¡¯t lying about that. Of course, she was still a relic thief, Calaf thought, with a priceless holy artifact currently in his inventory as well. Calaf curled up, knees in his chest, atop the paltry inn¡¯s bedroll. He mulled over recent events: The last week of captivity. The corrupt cleric-thieves and the monastery used to quite literally silence dissent. That raid on the lighthouse. Baldr¡¯s skills had been impressive at first. The mark of an expert arbiter of the church, skilled in levels and adept at the use of the Interface. He was even high-level enough to customize his spells. And yet the screams, even of those apostates, lingered in Calaf¡¯s mind. This was not the righteous, holy mission that Calaf grew up immersed in. That monastery was not the upstanding, honorable priory that the good Pryor Yordan had ran. Why, the martyred head of the Riverglen church had been a regular saint, doing nothing but caring for every orphan in the glen. He couldn¡¯t possibly have condoned such a monastery. Couldn¡¯t possibly have condoned working in the same organization as Bishop Cross of Port Town if he¡¯d known what the crooked cleric was up to. But they were apostates, defiling the thief¡¯s ¨C ahem, the scout¡¯s ¨C good name and using the Menu¡¯s own holy ground for black market thieving activities. Surely a level 70+ ordained arbiter would know more about church doctrine than a lowly Stalwart. Calaf stumbled to the inn¡¯s annex and ate a paltry selection of local breakfast grains. He tipped the innkeeper generously ¨C charity was a trait of an aspiring Paladin after all. Having trudged through that city of thieves where even faith in the Menu was corrupted only made Calaf resolve to stick to his class¡¯s tenants more thoroughly. What if maybe Baldr was correct? What if those thieves who defiled the church¡¯s good name deserved to be killed so hard their corpses couldn¡¯t even be commended to the crypts? And that man, arm severed and left to bleed out¡­ the just desserts of an apostate? Did Jelena deserve that, or worse? The road split in four directions, as it did at most junctions. Calaf took a north-westerly path, further away from the main fingers of the river. He spent the day traveling in silence through two more junctions, then turned north. And the less-than-savory practices of the Port Town cathedral. It was because they were corrupted by the thieves guild from within. And the port brought in all those foreign, unMenuly influences. Yes, even the strongest of faiths would be ground down from having to live in such a den of iniquity! Why, perhaps the pilgrimage went through that den of sin and heresy precisely so that faith could come out the other end all the stronger. It was in this headspace that Calaf traveled, alone, along a path shadowing the wider pilgrimage route. He stopped only once for the night, reusing the remains of a decades-old campfire and cook pit hidden in a rocky outcropping. The beasts of the field were growing higher in level ¨C far too much for Calaf to take on alone. But they wouldn¡¯t dare venture within range of the campfire¡¯s glare. He awoke again half expecting the outcropping to be surrounded by that thin golden sheen designating the custom barrier spell. But it was not to be, and he did not see another soul on the entire day¡¯s travel. Just a few dire-cows penned in by a stone wall. Swampy murk had given way to rocky, rolling hills divided up into farmland this far from the river. Sunken-in irrigation canals delineated farmsteads. Indeed, the holy itinerary stated that more people lived in the delta¡¯s hinterlands than in the entirety of Riverglen, albeit spread out over ten times the area. The river brought fertility, which brought farmland and foodstuffs.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. In time, though, the irrigation canals reached their limits. The land grew more arid, suitable for minor grazing by dire-cattle, until it gradually turned too rocky even for that. It was a desert, too far from the sea to get moisture and blocked from rain by mighty mountains running from around the Olde Capitol far to the north to Granite Pass in the southwest. And it was this desert that was the land¡¯s natural state; the green delta was the anomaly. Rocky ground and thorny, hardy bushes gave way over a half-day¡¯s march to finer, sandy ground. Too arid for Calaf¡¯s more temperate Riverglen constitution, and the level delta between him and beasts here was a several-level jump from even the highest-level fiend of the marshes. But it was also too dry to support larger predator beasts. He traveled in relative safety, even at night. This was good, as the scorching temperatures of the daylight forced Calaf to seek shelter for an afternoon and continue his journey under the cover of dark. It was too late that Calaf realized he¡¯d passed the last trading junction some time ago. He should have stocked up on water, but was too far ahead to turn back. He was behind schedule on the pilgrimage as it was. And so Calaf walked down a dusty barely-there trailhead. Peripheral vision blurred. He was somewhere far off the pilgrimage route, at the edge of the desert, when a status effect began to take hold:
Status: Dehydration (level 1) Effect: Strength -1, Endurance -1, Agility -1
Then, lights in the far distance. Artificial torchlight in the night. Calaf kept walking, using this far landmark as a guide. If it were day he¡¯d expect this to be a mirage. But no, it was real. Another night¡¯s walk through the dunes and he arrived, just as the blazing sun was rising, into a tiny desert hamlet. ¡°Oh? Is it someone new?¡± Asked a withered old woman at the town¡¯s edge. ¡°This settlement is¡­¡± Calaf could barely talk. ¡°Not on the. Pilgrimage itinerary.¡± ¡°I see. A pilgrim then? Seldom get those anymore. Ah, rarely get anyone at all these days, not since the old orphanage closed. Trade caravan should be arriving at the north gate this afternoon.¡± This elder clearly liked waxing about the troubles of her town. No doubt wanting some, any traveler to devote their time to fixing all this paltry settlement¡¯s problems. Why, every stop on the itinerary from Riverglen to Autumn¡¯s Redoubt had someone putting in work orders. It was an essential way by which pilgrims could raise money for their journey. ¡°Where are we?¡± Calaf rasped ¡°Ay, why, we¡¯re¡­¡± the old lady looked at an empty patch of dirt where the desert sand met a carved-stone hovel. ¡°Huh. Sign¡¯s fallen. It¡¯s in there somewhere.¡± Calaf checked around in a pile of sand and eventually plucked out a wooden signpost. ¡°Welcome to Japella.¡± ¡°Japella, huh?¡± Calaf propped the sign up against the stone dwelling. Sounded vaguely familiar. He didn¡¯t quite recall where though. ¡°Hey, Sonny. I¡¯ve got to head over to the well but my knees just aren¡¯t what they used to be. Could I please lean against you as we walk? It¡¯s just in the center of town.¡± Calaf looked over the old woman. She had no name under the menu. Unbranded. Still, helping her out was a good deed fitting of a paladin. The pair walked ¨C slowly ¨C down a dusty avenue that demarked the one major road through this town. All structures were carved out of boulders of various size jutting out of the sands. Likely tips of some buried outcropping. The carvings were old, ancient, even, possibly predating the Ancient Heroes of Yore. Of course, the only thing differentiating the sleepy hamlet of old Riverglen, the ancient trading post of Plains Junction, and the oasis of Firefield from windswept Japella here was that the old heroes happened to pass through the former for quite some time on their journey. Had they zigged instead of zagged, ventured away from the river¡¯s watershed for a time, it may have been Japella on the edge of the desert that was a sprawling Pilgrimage nexus. ¡°You there one of the Menuers, yeah?¡± The old woman asked, gripping his forearm shoulder tighter still. ¡°Aye. I am a lifelong adherent to the Most Holy Church of the Menu,¡± said Calaf. ¡°Traveling the pilgrimage path ¨C before I got sidetracked.¡± ¡°Why, we used to get your lot here all the time. Nice deacon came down from that noisy oasis depot over across the dunes down thataway and helped construct a church and orphanage. Think they called it a Mission? A missionary? I dunno.¡± The central well came into view. It was not a long walk from one end of town to another at all. Only a few gruff-looking older fellows were there in the shade, eyeing Calaf warily. It seemed the old and Brandless were all that was left. ¡°You have a church here?¡± The old woman hobbled the last few steps to the well. ¡°Used to. Why, Sister Turandot was a kindly deaconess. Nice local lass, one of the first converts in town. Once she came back from the Pilgrimage she handled all church duties and attracted a few pilgrims on detour to perform something. ¡®Side quests¡¯ believe they called it. Alas, the place is a crumbling wreck now. Not quite sure what happened to all that.¡± Calaf made a mental note to seek out this ruined chapel. The old lady continued. ¡°Ah, but now all the young¡¯uns have branded up and gone off to live in that oasis over yonder. Only the old folks what predate the mission remain.¡± Age and Infirmity was a bit of a foreign concept for those blessed in the Menu¡¯s light. Levels were more important. An old man at level 80 was still a force to be reckoned with, just as much as a sixteen-year-old who¡¯d likewise climbed to the apex of the tallest spire of the Grand Cathedral at Demon Lord¡¯s Fall. ¡°Young man. Could you¡­ get some water for me?¡± Calaf pulled some water from the well. He filled his canteen alongside several spare flasks of water:
Item:
Canteen (Full) x1 Sealed Flask of Water (x6)
¡°Huh.¡± Calaf looked at the bottles of water in his inventory, then to the old woman. ¡°There¡¯s, uh, no option to trade with the unbranded.¡± Back in Riverglen all interpersonal interactions were done by the Menu. Why, the Holy Interface was the foundation of all civilized society. And yet, he was unable to perform this act of charity under the menu. The chivalry of a prospective paladin won out over fealty to the Menu; he could always perform repentance later. Calaf placed three of the water flasks on the lip of the well, which the old woman graciously collected. He took another bottle for himself, dispelling the dehydration debuff that had reached level 2 and begun affecting his charisma as well as further eroding his strength-based stats. Then, he filled up another four bottles to top off his inventory. Should be more than enough to travel to Firefield, once he replenished his food rations. ¡°Do you have an inn, or perhaps a village general store?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Oh, nothing quite like that. Why, all provisions were run out of the ol¡¯ church,¡± replied the woman. ¡°I see.¡± ¡°But there is a weekly supply wagon what should be showing up sometime this afternoon. Maybe between noon and six perhaps. They¡¯ll usually allow anyone to ride in the cart on the way back. Not a lot of goods left to haul back from here, yeah?¡± ¡°I understand. Thank you for your hospitality.¡± Calaf bowed.
There would be some time before this rumored supply cart reached town. So, Calaf explored Japella ¨C what there was to see. Already a small settlement, dozens of stone-carved homes were long abandoned. Japella¡¯s Church of the Menu was hard to miss. It was the only building made of imported materials ¨C Deepwood lumber, as most of the smaller ecclesiastical buildings in the realm were. The steeple was sunken amidst a ruined pile now, showing signs of having been burnt at some point years ago. The actual chapel had been small, but there was a wing for an orphanage, a wing for a small market done as charity to these tiny desert abode, and a modest chamber above the chapel for the mission¡¯s custodians. A deacon (not unlike Calaf¡¯s Deacon, still performing missionary duties back in Vault) was always the first church official in line at an unconverted settlement. Their job was only to lay the foundation of the church. The day-to-day operations of Menu-adherent life were performed by a fleet of pryors, deaconesses, and occasionally monks or nuns. According to that old woman¡­ ¡°Sister Turandot, was it?¡± Calaf scratched his stubble (he¡¯d hardly had time to shave since Plains Junction) and looked around. ¡°Probably a lower-ranking deaconess. For a settlement of this size, it would¡¯ve had only a single full-time church Sister. Whatever had happened to this ruined church, he hoped this Sister Turandot was safe and sound. One day, perhaps when he¡¯d traversed the entire pilgrimage route and renewed his faith in the Menu, Calaf could return and reignite the mission in this forsaken hamlet.
Wasn¡¯t much of a choice but to wait; he¡¯d be traveling through at night anyway. The old lady from the southern entrance to the village came by with some grilled dire-gecko for Calaf to snack on while he waited. The cart eventually arrived around seven. Some paltry food and building supplies arrived, though it scarcely seemed enough to sustain the village. Calaf bought his way aboard with a paltry fee of gold for the cart driver. It would be morning before they set out, but the trip was assured to be safe, free from potential attack by any monsters that were well out of Calaf¡¯s range in this far-flung patch of desert.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Bright Lights, Big Oasis
An uneventful, scorching day¡¯s ride in a dire-mule-driven cart brought Calaf to Firefield. Mercifully, it was a dry heat; a simple tarp draped out above the cart was sufficient to keep Calaf and this gruff-looking cart driver from suffering the ¡®Heat Stroke¡¯ status effect. The cart driver was another old, grizzled man. Skin turned ragged by life in the desert. He was Unbranded. As they got to talking, Calaf learned that this fellow was a Japella local, and merely pooled the hamlet¡¯s resources to go into town for a supply run now and again. True to its topography, the desert was sparsely populated. The usual itineraries for pilgrims listed only Firefield as a proper destination. A desert oasis surrounded by red, rocky crags. Only three proper routes in and out of this desert abode had been worn through the rocks with centuries of foot traffic: the route with a clear south and north entrance along the grand pilgrimage route. And this tiny little dire-goat path through a narrow pass leading to Japella out amidst the sands. When they arrived, it was near late afternoon again. The peak heat of the day was dissipating. To Calaf¡¯s surprise, the desert could get quite chilly at night. ¡°Where do you stay in Firefield?¡± Calaf asked the cart driver. ¡°Aye, over there a way,¡± the old man said in a rather gruff desert dialect. ¡®Over there a way¡¯ happened to be a modest abode that the old man¡¯s Menu-converted grandson owned in town. Most of the supplies sent to impoverished Japella were gathered together from younger generations here in the Firefield residential district. Alas, Calaf was not invited in, not that he was asking. This was one of the larger stations on the pilgrimage. He surely wouldn¡¯t find lodging in due time. As with Plains Junction, the aspiring Paladin was viewing Firefield from a vantage point that was not meant to be a pilgrim¡¯s first impression. A residential district, the buildings here were well-maintained but not inherently different from the hovels of Japella. It was not until the path looped through these natural cave-carved homes and over to the main avenue that the true Firefield experience began. Night had fallen as did the desert chill that came with sundown. But a warm glow came from up ahead. Rounding a corner right from beside the southernmost town entrance, Calaf saw a kaleidoscope of lights arranged in all manner of fetching displays. Cleric¡¯s illumination spells had been dyed all manner of colors, and arranged on wooden boards and stone slabs to advertise pretty much anything a weary traveler could want. Cheap Rooms at the Inn! Vacancies available (though ¡®vacancies¡¯ was crossed out in some kind of red temporary paint). (Color Interface Notice Board and Complementary Breakfast Included) Most Holy Church (Off) The Menu Wedding Chapel! Open 24/7! All you can eat dire-shrimp, shipped daily from Port Town! Welcome Pilgrims! Come see our dancers open 10PM to sunup only at The Most Holy Slots Bordello! Church-approved Menu Roulette (come spend that pilgrimage allowance) Calaf sniffed the dry air. It smelled of¡­ something iniquitous. Still, the sight before him was impressive from a logistical standpoint. To think that this thin strip of questionably-Menu appropriate commerce was made possible by a small network of oases closer to the center of this settlement. Dancing lights naturally drew all eyes to this spectacle. Especially interesting in contrast to the dark, featureless desert to the south. The town ended abruptly at two stucco guideposts with a ¡®Welcome to Firefield!¡¯ banner draped over the route. Beyond that the southern horizon was black and featureless, lit only by a paltry sliver of moon. The main route from the delta through the desert was no less treacherous than the alternate route to Japella. The Old Heroes of Yore had just barely survived to reach the oasis, hovering around level 8 dehydration, where any further level met with instant death. Recent innovations in path Trailblazing and general preparedness meant that people seldom died of exposure on the route any longer though. And when the travelers journeyed out of the delta¡¯s watershed and braved the desolate desert, they eventually saw this city on the horizon, like a mirage in the day and a gleaming jewel at night. Even at this late hour the main street bustled with activity. Parties of all sizes gathered and moved about. A party made entirely of clerics marched into some sort of dance hall as if they were going to mass. As he walked, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but notice the level deficit between him and the rest of the pilgrims. He seldom encountered anyone below level 39! Where before he was over-leveled for most of his party, now he was well behind both this area¡¯s typical range and his peers. Why, he could never level up at this rate; the local beast population was simply too strong (and too rare). First things first. The Stalwart tried not to let all the glitzy lights distract him. He did have a mission after all. Calaf tried the local cathedral (easily identifiable as the tallest building in this land of wide, squat stucco establishments) and found it to be shuttered tight for the day. He did need to safely deliver this artifact to a church official. Surely anyone in good standing would be able to take responsibility for this priceless relic and ensure it gets into the hands of a more noble bishop assigned to Port Town.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Still, with the path closed Calaf detoured to look for a room. He could always approach the cathedral¡¯s Pryor or a bishop in the morning. Hours passed, and his endeavors proved fruitless. Though he¡¯d been ahead of the waves of pilgrims up through the delta, his weeklong stay in the Port Town monastery had delayed him just long enough for the peak season to catch up. The detour through Japella had cost him yet more time. Now Calaf was underleveled, under-equipped, and without even a place to hang his head for the night. Calaf tried every inn along the route ¨C all were booked. He spread his net a little further and stepped into an establishment offering warm beds by the hour¡­ then stepped right back out. Oh, by the Menu, the scandal! To think such an establishment would exist right here on the main road, tempting innocent pilgrims with, ah, ¡®off-Interface¡¯ activities. What¡¯s more, the ladies there seemed to be dressed in mocking costumes of devout church nuns and deaconesses! The shame. He should report that establishment to the clergy first thing in the morning. After walking up and down the strip for a bit to clear his head with wistful visions of his beloved Charlotte, Calaf felt enough self-confidence to again try another non-inn establishment. ¡®Eternal Twilight¡¯ it was called, offering beds, massive banquets worth of meals, and something called ¡®roulette.¡¯ A building as spacious as any cathedral but entirely windowless awaited. Those technicolor clerical light ball spells had been cast up against a darkened ceiling to create an illusionary night sky. A thin haze of smoke filled the ¡®sky¡¯ and gave the illusion of low cloud cover or smog ¨C tobacco, not technically part of the establishment¡¯s atmosphere, but perhaps it added to the ambiance. Smoking a dedicated tobacco stick was technically banned under the Menu. The System simply would not allow the item to be selected and ¡®Used¡¯, as was the case with most forms of sin-facilitating items. But there were workarounds that the Church did not necessarily frown upon. Indeed, monastic orders would sell some diluted forms of tobacco to be poured into a Plain Wooden Pipe. By using the Plain Wooden Pipe, otherwise godly Menu-bound folk could bypass the greyed-out options on the tobacco itself while still partaking. There were even common items that facilitated this and conferred some stat bonuses: Charisma +2, at the expense of Endurance with continued use. Observing the gaming parlor mostly consisting of big wheels and betting fields, Calaf suspected that items to increase luck would be ideal for this situation. Betters called out a numbered field on a segmented wheel of alternating colors, or a set of numbers, or just a color and were rewarded based on what they got right relative to the odds. Not much skill was involved, but Calaf was born lucky! His luck stat was higher than average for his level. He stepped up to the nearest table. His current gold supplies were thus:
Gold: x32562
More than enough to resupply and reprovision his entire kit, as soon as he was at level for Firefield¡¯s gear. Point being, he had money to burn. ¡°One hundred gold on black,¡± Calaf said. A ball rolled on a spinning wheel. It landed on four. Black. A trade was performed by a professional if haggard-looking attendant. Calaf received 200 gold in return. A success! ¡°Hmmm. The third twelve?¡± Calaf guessed. A lucky roll to number thirty-four was another, even larger payout to Calaf. Huh, this was pretty easy¡­ ¡°Three hundred on red!¡± he declared, bursting with confidence.
¡°Haven¡¯t seen signs of any tails for quite some time.¡± ¡°That¡¯s typically a good thing.¡± ¡°True.¡± Jelena shrugged. ¡°Kind of surprised I don¡¯t get more flak so close to home though.¡± The pair were hidden under a rock cropping north of Firefield. Even in the early morning, the heat was building everywhere outside of a good patch of shade. Dire-axolotls patrolled in a nearby watering hole. Their pelts were worth quite a hefty coin purse per hide and would be needed to fund yet more ambitious heists. ¡°You never do.¡± Enkidu paused, looking at a rudimentary trap splayed out at the edge of the watering hole. ¡°Go back home.¡± ¡°Eh, nothin¡¯ there anymore anyway, ¡®cept Gram-gram but she¡¯s so prideful she¡¯ll demand to look after herself.¡± Jelena looked out over the rocky environs. ¡°Firefield¡¯s a great base of operations, though. Could get used to hanging around there.¡± Enkidu grumbled. The dire-axolotls just weren¡¯t biting. ¡°I distinctly recall the brothels there,¡± Enkidu said all bluntly. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m sure you do, buddy.¡± Jelena laughed, half at Enkidu, half because she noticed her old desert accent creeping back through years of a more neutral dialect. ¡°Is that why you want to stay around Firefield?¡± ¡°What? Me? Pshaw.¡± Jelena laughed. ¡°Perish the thought.¡± The pair sat in silence for some time. Enkidu sniffed the air; his eyes got a slight gleam to them. It was Jelena who broke the silence. ¡°Spent a ton of time around Firefield, though. Years. Kind of got an itch for traveling. Staying mobile. Monotony is boring, even if it¡¯s all bright lights all the time.¡± ¡°Mobility is good. It helps avoid enemies,¡± Enkidu said with a lizard-like slithering tone. ¡°Like the ones approaching from south and east even now.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking,¡± Jelena said. The pair emerged from their shade ¨C Jelena first, then Enkidu. The dire-axotyls waddled off, startled by the commotion. ¡°C¡¯mon out,¡± Jelena cried. ¡°We¡¯ve been able to hear ya comin¡¯ from miles away.¡± Of all the times to get a tail. Didn¡¯t sound like church arbiters, though. Arbiters didn¡¯t even try to be stealthy. A dozen men emerged. If Jelena still possessed the ability to use the Menu, she suspected their titles would be listed as ¡®cleric.¡¯ This would be a feint though, as the group pulled out jagged daggers ¨C the signature weapon of thieves, scouts, and their various trailblazing subclasses. ¡°There¡¯s a bounty out on you,¡± said the toughest-looking thief. ¡°From both the guild and the church.¡± ¡°Let me guess: Metz is in hot water and wants to trade a world-famous relic thief for a full pardon and his old position back?¡± ¡°You¡¯re quite perceptive.¡± The lead thief pulled out another, larger dagger. Again, Jelena shrugged. ¡°Eh, saw the bounty notice back in town. So, who wants to die first?¡± One particularly bold and burly bounty hunter took a step forward. A padded, relatively stealthy boot landed at the edge of the watering hole. Perilously close to the axolotl trap. Another step. There was a snapping sound and a twang as a pin went flying. Counterweights moved, and the toughest-looking thief was suddenly being dragged by one leg off towards a nearby petrified tree. Jelena pulled out a wood-and-steel flintlock and hip-fired, cutting the next-toughest-looking thief down with no respect for level or defense values. Enkidu brandished his sword ¨C a rusted, jagged thing left over from an ancient civilization. The pair got to work.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Desert Haze
Gold: x21724
¡­. Aaaand there went another hundred gold. Early victories had given way to a string of crushing defeats. Calaf was left at a dealer¡¯s table, blithely calling for an extra card and washing out. The Luck stat failed him on that day. Now he was going to keep at it to try and make up the losses¡­ It was in this state, hunched over a card table, that Calaf was approached by a figure in robes. ¡°Calaf of Riverglen?¡± The Stalwart looked up, bags under his eyes. It was a courier. ¡°How¡¯d you find me here?¡± he asked warily. ¡°All is logged under the Menu.¡± The courier didn¡¯t seem to particularly care about Calaf¡¯s identity aside from the fact that they had a delivery to make. ¡°Here you go.¡± Calaf was traded a simple envelope with little fanfare.
Item: Letter For the Betrothed Description: From: Charlotte, Deaconess Church of the Menu Riverglen To: Calaf of Riverglen Pilgrimage Courier (Deluxe Mail!)
Ah, a letter from his beloved Charlotte! ¡°Thank you kindly,¡± Calaf said, then used the funds he was going to use for another round at this infernal ¡®gaming parlor¡¯ to tip the courier. Evidently happy, the courier skipped off without another word. Calaf selected, then opened, the letter.
Dearest Calaf, My Betrothed, It has been several weeks since your departure, and over a week now since Gorman returned without you. It sounds like you have elected to travel along the pilgrimage route to further deepen your faith in the Holy Menu and your mastery of its Interface. Congratulations, my love. Why, it was my determination to carry on my own pilgrimage past the typical layperson¡¯s endpoint that awarded me the position of Head Deaconess of Riverglen. I have appealed to the clergy at the Grand Cathedral and they¡¯ve confirmed, when you return, a position as a guardian of the Riverglen cathedral is yours, as is the next stage of our betrothal. Early returning pilgrims suggest that the crisis with the leveling creatures has stopped at Granite Pass and spread no further. You¡¯ve successfully alerted our noble church arbiters to the relic thieves and murderers who accosted our fair cathedral. They shan¡¯t continue their reign of terror any longer. Please leave further pursuit to the noble arbiters and seekers of the church. And do let me know when you are scheduled to return to Riverglen. Sincerely Yours, Charlotte, Deaconess of Riverglen
A position in the Riverglen cathedral ¨C taking over for the martyred Pryor Yordan, to be sure. And the next stage of Calaf and Charlotte¡¯s betrothal ¨C they may be granted the ability to hold hands under the Menu, even! Ah, it was almost as if that time shadowing Baldr and being detained by the crooked authorities of the Port Town monastery were all just a bunch of bad dreams. Calaf wanted nothing more than to begin the journey back to Riverglen right away. He excused himself from the table, cashed out (to the extent that there was anything to cash out) and headed for the door. Blinding sunlight awaited Calaf just as soon as he opened the door. It was already midday. How long had he been at those tables? Stumbling out onto the main avenue, Calaf was swiftly carried northward by a constant stream of pilgrims. It took some time for his eyes to adjust, dim gaming parlor having rapidly given way to the scorching desert heat, and by then Calaf was nearly carried to the cathedral. The under-leveled Stalwart needed two things: one, passage on a pilgrim¡¯s convoy back through the lesser stations, to Plains Junction at least. Two, he needed to enlist a church courier himself to find and explain to Jorge¡¯s party that he wouldn¡¯t be meeting up with them after all. It was possible they¡¯d already moved on from Firefield, and if not, it¡¯d require a miracle to find them in this crowd anyway. So Calaf returned to the Cathedral at Firefield. It was made from a kind of gravel-textured, tan stucco that camouflaged itself well with the desert ¨C a rare flourish as far as church cathedrals went. Massive scheduling and budgetary errors meant it had taken a full century to build.Stolen story; please report. In front of this cathedral was a bulletin board. Where party meet-ups could be suggested, jobs could be requested, and general announcements were posted. The chase after Jelena, the machinations of the thieves¡¯ guild, and the apparent corruption of the church at Port Town were the furthest things from Calaf¡¯s mind. He looked for a listing of caravans south down the route. He wouldn¡¯t even be able to serve as a guard for this part of the route, merely just one pilgrim of many. In terms of choice, there were a few dozen caravans to choose from. Many of them booked, as Firefield was where the level delta between laymen faithful and the beasts of the field tended to grow a bit much for some average thatcher or blacksmith to deal with. It was while perusing this message board ¨C it was quite large, given it was the primary job board for the entire settlement ¨C that Calaf noticed two very peculiar notes. Firstly, a job listing: ¡°Wanted: Dire-Axolotl pelts. Will pay handsomely ¨C 1000 gold per pelt! Typically hang out around the salt licks and watering holes thereabouts level 30 or so. They¡¯re rather squirrely though, so bring traps. Signed ¨C The Watering Hole.¡± Huh, level 30. That was not insurmountable for Calaf. And he did need to recoup his losses¡­ Alas, he¡¯d have to spend money to armor up before he could properly hope to fight anything in this desert abode. That would require spending yet more money. It would also require finding a blacksmith. The second entry of note was three places below the creature bounty. It read as thus: ¡°Legitimate business blacksmiths. We¡¯ll bring the materials, you bring the cash! The finest of firestone armors, obtainable for half off standard market rates! Special deal: 75% off armor infusions and refinement. Come visit us at¡­ The Watering Hole!¡± Wow. It sounded like this Watering Hole establishment had all manner of legitimate business. Blacksmiths, and apparently tanners too. Calaf wondered who could possibly fund armor for such cheap prices. One day, some years from now, Calaf would surely complete the rest of the pilgrimage. It would help if he traded his now-lagging behind steel armor and his well-outdated buckler for a proper Firefield set. Another set of advertisements for caravan listings were backlogged. It would be a few days before an opening cropped up. Which meant Calaf suddenly had time. And rather than spend it back losing the remainder of his gold supplies in those gambling parlors, he could hope to outfit his kit with the finest armor that would last him for years, as well as recoup his losses with animal hide bounties. Just before heading out, Calaf noticed another listing buried behind all the others. It had been posted some time ago. By pure chance, Calaf examined it. ¡°Wanted: Jelena, Apostate. Surname Unknown. Dead or Alive. Crimes: Dangerous Conduct, Relic Thievery, Murder of Clergy, and Over 21 Additional Counts. Bounty: 200500 Gold. Posted By: The Most Holy Church of the Menu, Authorized by the Grand Council of Archbishops at Demon Lord¡¯s Fall.¡± That was quite the sum. Seemed higher than it was before Riverglen as well, which made sense. Not that Calaf was interested in the bounty for its own sake; it was personal, after all. There was another bounty on the wanted section of the board. Posted much more recently. And not put out by the church¡­ ¡°Wanted: Jelena T. Thief working outside the guild. Homebase is around Firefield. Wanted Dead. Bounty: 3000000 gold. Signed ¨C The Thieves Guild. Come sign up for hunting parties at the Watering Hole¡± Three million!? The thieves¡¯ guild was surprisingly well-funded. And they, too, wanted Jelena. That did mesh with what Calaf had heard back in the cistern, so long ago now. And the location for sign-up¡­ the Watering Hole. The exact destination Calaf was ¨C or had wanted to ¨C visit. His paladin-aspirant senses tingled. There was most certainly something curious afoot here. And with no way out of town for a day or two, he felt obligated to investigate¡­
The Watering Hole was, predictably, located closer to the wide oasis that formed the lifeblood of this desert abode. This part of town was older ¨C less focused on touristy delights for pilgrims and more built around fundamental, pre-Menu industries. Goldsmithing, blacksmithing, wicking every bit of possible moisture out of the atmosphere, and more. Of course, the Menu now allowed these arduous professions to be done in a breeze via the holy Interface. A distinct scent of soot and furnace smelting filled the air. Still, the industry was kept well away from the life-giving waters. Caves had been worn into mighty granite by flowing water over some untold number of centuries. The path of this flowing water had been cut off through the years, leaving a high and dry cavern system that formed some of the first dwellings in the Firefield desert. One such cavern was now an inn ¨C with vacancies, even, though the day was still young. Another had been transformed into another gambling parlor. And as for a third one¡­ ¡°The Watering Hole¡± ¨C a sign, cast up in cleric light balls, per the town¡¯s glitzy style, awaited on a bit of wood. Not a lot of lumber grew in the desert. In fact, it seemed to be sourced from the delta. Calaf took a step forward. Torchlight filled the cavern every ten paces. Still, there were no signs of others. Admittedly, Calaf didn¡¯t know what he was expecting to find. But he had reason to suspect that the Thieves¡¯ Guild was using this establishment as a front. Natural stone melded seamlessly with manmade tiling. The cavern had been well-lived in for some time. A door awaited ¨C highlighted red, locked. There was a plush rug just sitting there in front of the door. Calaf approached. His intuition blared. A weird tingling against the back of his neck. What was the Interface trying to tell him? He stayed back, performing a scan of the door ahead. Yellow highlighted the rug. Ah, it was a trap!
Hazard: Trap Door Floor Description: A trap door in the ground. Intentionally hidden. No evidence of lethal spikes or other hazards are present. It¡¯s likely this leads to a cell or other form of restraints.
Stalwarts seldom had keen trap senses ¨C it was more of a Scout (or perhaps burglar) skillset. But if his luck had to bleed him of money all night to work properly at this crucial moment, well, it was certainly in his favor. A paltry amount of experience flowed into Calaf. +15 xp. Not enough to level up. Mastery over the Interface truly was biased towards combat. The door was indeed locked. The path was shut. But Calaf was undeterred. He poked through his inventory, and remembered¡­
Item: Holy Lockpick of the Thief Scout (Unbreakable) Description: A lockpick belonging to the famous Thief Scout of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. +20 to any scouting or trailblazing skills. Picks any lock.
Unlimited lockpicking with a full +20 to any form of scouting? Why, this key ring in his pocket may have been the only reason he survived his trip across the desert to Japella on foot! Suddenly it was quite fortunate that he¡¯d yet to turn this holy artifact into the church after all. Hearing and perception were scouting skills, ones likewise enhanced by this holy relic. Calaf put his ear to the door. There was a commotion within ¨C steel on steel. Perhaps someone had already caught on to this thieves'' guild hideout and had begun to raid the place? Or perhaps someone was being accosted in there. Regardless of the cause of the din, Calaf used the relic to unlock the door, and then snuck in to investigate. If someone truly was in danger, what kind of prospective paladin would he be to shirk investigation at this point?
Chapter Twenty-Six: Crossed Off
Past the door, this cavern was more manmade than it was naturally occurring. There was still a drip-drip of water off stalactites in some dark corners. But for the most part, the cacophonous chamber was a regular thieves¡¯ den. Simple wooden chairs and a table sat strewn about, a deck of cards knocked over mid-game. There were no torches, adequate light beaming into the chamber from five holes in the rocky roof far above. It was quite the drop, from these high shafts up in the roof into the chamber. Calaf¡¯s enhanced scouting skills activated again with scarcely any input on his part. A table broken inward provided evidence enough: nobody ever imagined someone would circumvent their traps and locks by simply diving down from such suicidal heights. Pitched battles and general panic came from a narrow hallway flanked with braziers, one of which was toppled over, covering the path in smoldering ashes. Other, less immediate and more forlorn mewls of distress came from a staircase chiseled into the rocks. Calaf tried this second pathway. Another locked door was no match for his unbreakable relic. So perceptive was Calaf that he could very nearly make out a mental image of the next room before he opened the door. The Interface enhanced his ears and general mental map well beyond what any ordinary human could hope to achieve without its blessing. With sight beyond sight, he knew the room beyond was empty before he even laid eyes on it. Just empty tables and a jailer¡¯s setup of sorts, cell keys waiting on rings on the wall. The guards had filed out ¨C upstairs, judging by the faint dusty footprints, on quick notice. And beyond all that, there were some cries and pouts behind a grated door. Still alone, Calaf ignored the cell keys and opened the barred doors with his lockpick. A dozen people from all walks of life sat in a narrow holding cell, trapdoor shaft angling into the cells from up in the ceiling. Well, Calaf supposed that¡¯s where the false entrance led to. ¡°Fear not. I¡¯m getting you out of here,¡± he said immediately. The prisoners were mostly pilgrims and all out-of-towners. People who¡¯d responded to ads on the Firefield bulletin board not knowing that they¡¯d been walking into a hot spot for the local theives¡¯ guild. ¡°They were holding us for ransom,¡± said one particularly terrified woman listed in the Interface as Talia of Granite Pass. ¡°Only, so many of us couldn¡¯t pay. They took people who¡¯d been in here longer than a few weeks further in. To the kitchen, they called it. Nobody ever came back from that. And there¡¯s always a smell wafting up from the kitchen¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re safe now,¡± Calaf assured her. ¡°I will escort you to the door. Then, I¡¯m going to confirm that this branch of the thieves¡¯ guild is shut down for good.¡± Calaf ensured the path back upstairs and over to the trapdoor was clear, then escorted the former prisoners to safety. He¡¯d make a fair scout, to be quite honest. ¡°Watch out for the trap door again,¡± Calaf said, holding the door open for everyone. ¡°There should be no further traps. Go, go!¡± ¡°Thank you so much,¡± Talia said, at the back of the group. ¡°I¡¯d offer to trade with you, but they forced us to trade our gold away before they¡¯d give us any amount of food at all.¡± Calaf¡¯s own captivity by the corrupt clerics and secret thieves of the Port Town guild left him with nothing but sympathy. ¡°I¡¯ll trade you each a few hundred gold to at least get you a room in town,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Head to the Firefield cathedral. Surely, they shall provide charity to get you back to Granite Pass.¡± Calaf opened his trade interface and handed everyone in the cell a small pittance from his already-diminished sums. He would still have enough, and these impoverished victims of the thieves'' guild needed it more. Charity was the cornerstone of chivalry, after all. Before you go, do you know who was running this operation?¡± ¡°Few days ago, they said some new guy came in from their main base of operations. Shook up the place ¨C halved our rations, even after we traded all our gold away! They mentioned the name Metz.¡± ¡°Ah, that dastard again.¡± Calaf¡¯s face scrupled up, stern. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t get your gold back. And see if I can¡¯t bring this apostate in alive.¡±
The boon of the holy relic was bringing Calaf a bit of unearned confidence. He was still under-leveled for the region, well below Metzger¡¯s level. Still, the din of battle had not abated yet. Someone was clearing out this thief¡¯s safe house without him. Maybe it was the church? The tunnels of this thief¡¯s abode were winding, often doubling back or appearing to have a dead end. Secret passages revealing the true route were no match for Calaf¡¯s newly heightened perceptive abilities. It was after two or three of these false dead-ends and a couple of warehouses that Calaf found his first other living non-captive. A man in hooded thief garb sat sprawled out amidst a wreckage of many barrels. Someone had tossed him through multiple casks of smuggled wine and continued onward as if they¡¯d barely even noticed the roadblock at all. ¡°You¡¯ll live.¡± Calaf knelt at this man¡¯s side. ¡°You didn¡¯t even dip into single-digit HP. Your boss. Metzger Cross, disgraced bishop of Port Town. Where is he?¡± ¡°Ah. Attacked. By some crazy couple. Jumped down from the ceiling. I only know that there was a bounty out on ¡®em. And¡­¡± the man coughed up some blood. ¡°She shot me. Cut through all armor, and it ignores damage resistance stats. That¡¯s not¡­¡± Calaf frowned. ¡°Sounds familiar. They still here?¡± The thief nodded. ¡°Storming through the halls, cutting down everyone they find. Metz should have a trap set up for them.¡± ¡°I would quite like to see the trap that can hold her.¡± Calaf smiled at the thought. Jelena was a regular escape artist. Quite skilled at wiggling out of any prickly situation her pursuers tried to throw at her. Not¡­ not that Calaf was impressed by her or anything! She was a heretic, and escaping church arbiters was a sin, and therefore bad. Calaf looked at this thief¡¯s wound. Once more, his perception chimed in:
Special Effect: Medical Diagnosis Description: At a glance, determine medical conditions not appearing on the menu.
¡°You¡¯re bleeding out,¡± he said. ¡°Not in a way that the Interface can display as a status effect. It seems¡­ internal. A hidden head wound. Trained healers would have to spot it, and even then, it¡¯s only by luck that they¡¯d catch it in time. Here.¡± The Stalwart traded the injured thief for some medical herbs, a basic healing item. ¡°That should keep you alive until the church authorities arrive.¡± Calaf left the groaning thief behind and continued forth.
Next up was an armory. Weapons were all taken in a rush. But there was plenty of armor. Firefield armor was red, forged of a specific mineral in the rocky crags that pockmarked the desert. It was tough comparable to steel even before being properly forged by a skilled smith. One problem: the level requirement started at thirty-eight. The defense stats were useful in and of themselves. But there¡¯d be a definite agility bonus until Calaf managed to get out of these level twenty doldrums. Stuffed into trunks were far more than simple armor. There were clothes and all manner of effects unlawfully traded off of captive prisoners. Still no sign of the pilfered gold, but it appeared the guild was pawning off weapons and armor from their victims.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. None of this belonged to the guild, meaning taking the armor was not technically stealing. More reappropriating it for more chivalrous ends. Calaf donned the armor:
Item: RedStone Mail
Description: +2 to Endurance. +5 to Physical Defense and Any Technique-based Barriers. PENALTY: -2 Agility Prior to Level 38
A definitive upgrade, even with the penalty. Agility was a dump stat for Paladins, with any penalties offset by his possession of the lockpicks. Calaf took the pilfered armor and donned it. He kept Jorge¡¯s old if imperfect shield ¨C off-level penalties for weaponry and arms were generally more severe, as well as his fluted spear ¨C still viable given its offensive modifications. The sounds of battle were growing louder ahead. It was not long before a familiar voice echoed down the winding halls¡­
¡°C¡¯mon, Metz! Keep running all you want. I¡¯ll find you.¡± Shrill. Excitable. Cocky. Suave. Surprisingly feminine despite all that lad-like bravado. Yep, that was Jelena alright. There was an echoing blast from Jelena¡¯s weird handheld explosive weapon, muffled as if it were behind a thick metal slab. ¡°She¡¯s in the containment chamber. We¡¯ve got her.¡± Calaf moved faster. His two targets were fighting each other! ¡°Evacuate. Clear everything that¡¯s not nailed down,¡± came Metzger¡¯s telltale delta drawl. ¡°Have all our local contacts go to ground for at least a year.¡± ¡°A year!? That¡¯s longer than we¡¯re laying low in Port Town. Boss, we¡¯ve got her. We can starve her out and put her with the rest of the prisoners. She ain¡¯t even on the Menu, she don¡¯t even have to consent to a trade!¡± There was a crunching sound followed by a collapsing table, indicating Metzger¡¯d just hit one of his subordinates. ¡°And has anyone seen her attack dog?¡± Metzger asked. One final, flimsy wooden door stood between Calaf and this altercation. There was a pounding on a metal door somewhere beyond all that ¨C not concerned sounding, more probing. The stalwart had the element of surprise. Now, how to use it¡­ Footsteps sounded from the chamber beyond. ¡°Attack. Attack by the lower loading docks. And it¡¯s ¨C it¡¯s not him.¡± There were whispered murmurs followed by scurrying footsteps. ¡°Come back. You rats. Cowards. Bah, rather fight the church than that unbranded freak of nature.¡± Now was Calaf¡¯s chance, as good as any. He threw open the door and yelled: ¡°Halt right there, criminal scum!¡± Metzger wheeled around. A paltry collection of relatively lower-level thieves crowded around him. ¡°You again?¡± Metzger said, more annoyed than anything. Calaf held his spear up alongside the buckler shield. ¡°Another raid!?¡± cried a thief. ¡°They¡¯re at all the entrances. Arbiters at the loading dock, Jelena at the oasis-side port. There¡¯s no way out, man!¡± Metzger socked this guy in the face too. ¡°There¡¯s only one of them here. Just power through and we¡¯ll escape out the front.¡± Metzger pulled out dual daggers, a thief-class specialty. Either one of these daggers had an attack value comparable to Calaf¡¯s spear. Such was the advantage of higher levels. And Calaf¡¯s hand-me-down shield didn¡¯t even have one hundred percent physical resistance. But that was not to say he was completely out of his depth. Metzger lunged at Calaf. The one person between what remained of the thieves'' guild and escape. The daggers would allow the rogue bishop to attack twice in each turn. Calaf would have to stop the first blow¡­
Class Technique: Parry Description: Timed right, will cast a blade, spear, or particularly sharp claw aside and leave the opponent vulnerable to a counterattack.
Calaf braced with the shield, then, just as soon as the dagger met the banded steel, he thrust it aside. The daggers went sliding off to the side, harmless. Metzger reeled back, exposed. ¡°Ha!¡± Calaf had at his foe, delivering a mighty spear thrust that the parried Metzger was unable to defend against. The blow struck true.
Name: Metzger Cross
Status 54/67 (Parried!)
Were they at level, Metzger would have been left with sub-fifty percent HP. The under-leveled blow still hurt quite a bit and left Mezger reeling, off guard. Many more successful parries would be required to best Metzger. But Calaf was off to a good start! ¡°Nosy little rat,¡± Metzger said, shaking off his wound. There was a commotion from a far hallway. Many more thieves took off running. ¡°They¡¯re here. Arbiters, run!¡± Only, Calaf was standing, shield up, in the doorway that offered escape. Metzger lunged again. Calaf braced for another parry, knowing it would be more difficult to take his opponent off guard from this point onward. The duel was interrupted as twin slices from a massive blade bypassed the doors and hallways by cutting a wide swathe through the very wall.
Calaf¡¯s vision was covered in dust as his body was nearly buried in rubble. When he next came to, he heard screaming and the frantic movement of shadows from beyond a curtain of soot. ¡°Alright, that takes care of that,¡± came a rather signature twangy accent. Three figures moved about; shadows elongated in the fog. ¡°C¡¯mon, some of us have accuracy modifiers we¡¯re bound to, here,¡± said that familiar twang. ¡°Old Walt will accidentally bisect one of us. Clear out this smoke, will you?¡± There was a strum of a tense string. ¡°Oh, very well.¡±
Class Skill: Song of Cleansing Effect: Clears out Atmospheric Disturbances. Dispels debuffs.
With another quick strumming of strings, a great breeze suddenly flushed the cavern of all smoke, smog, and dust. The winds moved fast, emanating from a figure in a brightly colored ensemble common to mercenaries in certain higher-level portions of the line. This figure had shoulder-length, somewhat androgynous hair, and carried a ruan, a musical implement common across the sea.
Name: Klavier, Arbiter of the Church
Rank: Bard
Level: 75
Status: 360/360 (Strumming)
Weapons: Mithril Ruan +5
Another church arbiter. And a bard at that. Bards were rare ¨C some obscure path high up on the battlemage¡¯s class progression chart. The second figure was Walter, that Hunter who¡¯d solo¡¯d the dire-worm on the plains. His sword was about as long as the hallway was wide. Calaf got up to one knee. He was injured. Hovering around 15 HP. Seemed to have taken a blow at some point while everyone was hacking at each other in the dust and rubble. Over in one corner was Metzger¡¯s torso. Over in another was his bottom half. -40 HP. Deader than dead. Plenty of other thieves lay dead here and there. No doubt all one-shot by Walter¡¯s sword. ¡°Walt. You missed one,¡± said a third figure. ¡°Seems your sword is growing a little dull, oh scion of wrath.¡± Baldr appeared, looking exactly as he looked at Port Town. He looked down at Calaf, still kneeling. ¡°Do I know you?¡± Ah, he didn¡¯t recognize the Stalwart at least. Baldr looked down with a puzzled frown, seeming to have never seen Calaf¡¯s face at all. Perhaps that was for the best. Walter or the bard could be better suited for reasoning with, even. ¡°Everyone. This was a thieves guild operation. They were kidnapping people.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± Baldr said simply. ¡°Just taking out the trash, yeah?¡± ¡°They have.¡± Calaf tried rising, only to fall back to one knee. ¡°Jelena. The relic thief. Behind that door.¡± The steel door was quiet. But if it was indeed a trap, where else could she be? ¡°Hmmm. That other bounty we¡¯ve been tasked with eliminating.¡± Baldr thought about it a moment. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing three top-ranking church arbiters can¡¯t deal with.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already rescued the prisoners,¡± Calaf managed. ¡°Ah, and you let them go?¡± Still, Baldr didn¡¯t seem to recognize the Stalwart. ¡°Now we¡¯re going to have to track them down. It¡¯ll be a huge mess. Going to have to get a level eighty-plus Scout in here and everything.¡± Baldr looked to Walter, then made an unsubtle head-nudging motion towards Calaf. ¡°What are you,¡± Calaf began. ¡°This man is under-level,¡± Walter said. ¡°Hardly a fair fight.¡± ¡°So was Metz,¡± Baldr said, indignant. ¡°He swung first.¡± Over near the door, the bard strummed his ruan. ¡°Gentlemen. No need to argue. Allow me.¡± Again, he strummed out a song:
Class Ability: Tune of Empowering Effect: Raises target to caster¡¯s level for the duration of the song (three minutes twenty seconds). Does not incur stat bonuses, does heal to max HP as if leveled up. Allows equipping of weapons and armor.
Calaf felt a surge of power raise him to level 75 in an instant. The agility debuff from wearing this hefty, reddish-colored armor was lifted. And while he didn¡¯t benefit from the thousands of HP he could expect at that level, his wounds were healed in an instant. Perhaps this was the start of his weak to strong fantastic progression leveling journey, that would see him raised to the heights of power with an epic cheat skill and the power of inner cultivation. Yes, truly that lopsided luck stat was paying dividends now. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ thank you, good sirs!¡± Calaf rose to his feet. Immediately, a slender and thread-thin blade pierced his body, slicing through his shoulder. His armor was cut through in an instant ¨C the level thirty cap was nothing against Walter¡¯s overpowered one-handed sword swing. Damage was catastrophic, so much so that Calaf couldn¡¯t even see his HP in the interface. No status effects either, though a blow of such strength almost certainly induced shock and stun at least. Vision grew blurry with a red overlay. That was probably bad. ¡°There. He¡¯s at level. It¡¯s legitimate prey,¡± said Walter, emotionless. ¡°There we go,¡± Baldr said. ¡°Still got it, Walt.¡± The trio started talking about other things all nonchalant-like. But Calaf couldn¡¯t quite make out what they were saying. He stayed there on his knees, sword embedded deep in the gaping wound. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t just leave him there to bleed out,¡± Klavier said. ¡°It¡¯s hardly sporting. Rather inhumane, don¡¯t you think? We have appearances to keep up.¡± ¡°Eh, don¡¯t care.¡± Baldr shrugged. ¡°Rip the sword out of him or not. He¡¯ll die eventually.¡± Before Calaf¡¯s vision and consciousness fully blacked out from shock, the steel door at the arbiters¡¯ backs was violently thrust outward. Calaf collapsed on the ground, twitching.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Bedside Manner
When Calaf next came to his senses, he was looking up at a jagged and low-hanging stucco ceiling. He wasn¡¯t in the cave anymore, for sure. It still hurt to stretch and strain his neck. He hazarded a look down at his shoulder. The blade was gone. And there was hardly even a scar. ¡°You took quite the hit there. Worry not, you¡¯re safe now, young faithful.¡± This voice sounded¡­ kind. Perhaps motherly. A figure was silhouetted by bright lights streaming through an open window. Calaf could make out a sisterly habit but little else. ¡°Did I die?¡± he asked. His first impression was that he¡¯d passed through the 0-HP threshold and crossed into the divine beyond. If his body didn¡¯t decay, it could be possible to consecrate his remains and store them in the crypt for the blessed day when the Holy Menu¡¯s Mass-Resurrection spell was ready. Then the fallen would rise and live eternally in a world that was united under the Menu, free of any chaotic outside variables not accounted for by the System and its Interface. Could it be? Was this figure his beloved Charlotte, reunited with her martyred Stalwart after death? ¡°Of course not, my dear,¡± said the kindly nun. ¡°You¡¯re at a hospitaller mission on the edge of the desert. We found and brought you to the healers. You survived to fight another day. No thanks to those church arbiters. They seemed quite intent to leave no survivors.¡± Memories came flooding back to Calaf. Right, Baldr and Walter, and that new high-level scout/battlemage type, Klavier the Bard. They¡¯d obliterated the thieves guild. But they¡¯d shown no signs of stopping there. Why would these ranking arbiters of the church be so quick to stab even a church-affiliate aspirant Paladin? And if three hyper-lethal arbiters had turned their weapons on little old Calaf, why¡¯d they leave him on death¡¯s door rather than just finishing it? Calaf¡¯s eyes adjusted. The room came into view ¨C a ward for those with exceptional injuries at the Church Hospitaller, a charitable institution. Not technically answering the main cathedral, as church arbiters did. Who, though, brought him in? The kindly nun came into view. A slightly older woman with an actually-kinda-cute shallow, wide nose gazed down upon him, hands clasped. She had a spattering of freckles put there by the harsh desert sun, still barely detectable against her darker complexion. And her habit was draped in such a way to perfectly mask an eyepatch over one eye. ¡°Rest well, my child,¡± the relic thief said in an exaggeratedly sympathetic tone. ¡°You.¡± Calaf scowled. He tried to get up. To grab Jelena and yell for the guards. But while the healing spell had erased the near-fatal wound, his body still needed some time to recover from the shock. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Jelena said with a sly grin. ¡°And after all that effort to beat those church arbiters off you, this is how you repay us? Enkidu nearly blew his back out carrying you here. That¡¯s not very chivalrous, mister.¡± Calaf groaned, too fatigued to make a fuss. ¡°Why did you? How did I?¡± he stammered. ¡°Relax, good sir patient.¡± Jelena put a finger up to her mouth. A cream-colored lip gloss gave away the lie of her Sisterly disguise. ¡°You¡¯ll need time to rest and recover. Just sit back and let me explain.¡± ¡°I suspect I have no other choice.¡± Calaf frowned. ¡°No, you do not. So, Metzger always wanted to put a hit out on me but found it hard to justify with a certain two-hundred-fifty-pound sword-wielding dire-elephant in the room. Sounds like he got on the church higher up¡¯s bad side in a way he couldn¡¯t bribe his way out of, so he went to ground and traveled to Firefield.¡± ¡°He put a bounty on you so that he could trade you for a pardon,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Oooh. Very perceptive.¡± Jelena giggled. ¡°Actually, I saw the bounty,¡± Calaf said. ¡°But it seemed obvious based on what you were saying anyway.¡± Jelena giggled some more, louder this time. She had a slight smile on her face. ¡°Anyway, the thieves guild came to try and abduct me. There was a fight. Then Enkidu and I got bored of getting attacked by random bands of bounty hunters all day and decided to go counter-whack them.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Metzger said he had you trapped.¡± ¡°Pfft. Metzger was full of himself. I was never in danger. ¡®Sides, I had a bodyguard. Why, here he comes¡­¡± A man in priest''s robes with a thick and tangled beard ¨C facial hair was unheard of among the clergy ¨C walked past the cot, looking annoyed. ¡°I do not look like a priest, Jelena.¡± ¡°Oh, Father. Bless our patient, in your mercy,¡± Jelena said with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to wait outside.¡± ¡°He warms on you,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Anyway, we were halfway through wiping out the Firefield thieves'' guild when the church sicced its dogs on everyone involved. Arbiters are an unpredictable bunch. Enkidu¡¯s had some run-ins with that Walter fellow. Enough to know he generally stabs first and asks questions later. They¡¯re kinda similar like that¡­¡± Calaf looked down at his hands. Neither Walter nor Baldr had seemed to recognize or particularly care about him at all. So far beneath the high-level arbiters was Calaf that he hardly even registered as more than an annoyance. ¡°¡­ so, Enkidu sliced the door down and we leaped out to fight Metz mere seconds after you were stabbed. Enkidu kept Baldr and company at bay ¨C even level 90-somethings don¡¯t like fighting someone so strong when they¡¯re unbranded. His prodigious strength breaks down advantages that they¡¯d have over an unbranded attacker. Your wounds were too extensive to heal without spells, so at my discretion, Enkidu dragged you here to the Tent of the Cleric¡¯s Holy Hospitallers and fetched a healer.¡± Calaf looked at Jelena, unsure what to say. She adjusted her habit. Impersonation of members of the church ¨C yet another charge added to the long list of her many crimes! ¡°You stole a habit.¡± Calaf¡¯s eyes narrowed. Jelena shot him a piteous look. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. ¡®Sides, I remember how this thing works. I pull it off quite well, says I.¡± Calaf sighed. He was feeling much better but lacked the wherewithal to make a stink and call the guards on his apparent savior. ¡°So, you couldn¡¯t heal me without the Holy Menu,¡± Calaf said. ¡°You admit there are some things the Holy Menu can do that mortal man cannot do alone!¡± ¡°That¡¯s the lesson you¡¯re gleaming from today¡¯s events!?¡± Jenela sighed. ¡°By the -- look, it was my decision what saved your life. I don¡¯t expect you to be madly in love with your savior or anything, but a modicum of gratitude would be appreciated.¡± Calaf looked away. It was a while before he worked up the words to talk. ¡°For saving me¡­ you have my thanks.¡± He exhaled, exhausted. ¡°It was, dare I say, chivalrous. But, for killing Pryor Yordan. My foster father, I can¡¯t¡­¡± Now it was Jelena¡¯s turn to look away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Hardly justifies anything, yes, yes. You of all people are under no obligation to listen, but rest assured it saved more lives than not.¡± Calaf¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean.¡± The aspirant knight thought over that fateful day back at Riverglen once more. The casualties had been numerous. But no civilians. Plenty of city guards had been injured, but as far as deaths went it was only church battlemages, templars, and pryors of course. All high levels. ¡°Look, if you¡¯d seen what I¡¯ve seen¡­¡± the relic thief¡¯s voice trailed off. ¡°Nevermind. Just, making sure you¡¯re okay. I trust you¡¯ll find it somewhere in your code of chivalry that even the most villainous of damsels deserve a day or so¡¯s head start in exchange for saving a life.¡± Calaf nodded. That was¡­ true. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll let you go without a fuss,¡± he said. ¡°Oh, good.¡± Jelena got up out of her bedside chair. ¡°Get well soon, good sir knight. We hardly know each other, but this cat-and-mouse game made it feel like we bonded. Good luck with that betrothal.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve chased you halfway up the pilgrimage route. But know nothing about you or even what your plan is.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Jelena leaned over Calaf¡¯s cot. ¡°Well, how about another breadcrumb to follow? Name¡¯s Turandot.¡± The scrambled Menu, forsaken by the relic thief to the point where she took out her own eye, reassembled in the Interface:
Name: Jelena Turandot
Rank: ???
Level: XX
Status: YYY/YYY
Huh. A simple change, but Calaf felt he knew the outlaw a bit more now. She had to be level forty-something. In terms of age, probably pushing thirty at the youngest. So a bit older than Calaf. She had similar mannerisms to other Firefield dwellers. Certainly, had a dialect not unlike that old woman in Japella. Jelena walked up into the aisle, then towards the same door that Enkidu had ducked through a few minutes ago. ¡°Why did you tell me? Your name, I mean.¡± Jelena winked with her good eye. ¡°You seemed nice.¡± Calaf looked away, flustered. She stopped at the door, then looked back. ¡°You know how a knight¡¯s word is his bond and all that?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ yeah?¡± He couldn¡¯t help but suspect he was missing something. Jelena flashed the Holy Lockpick of the Scout in her hands. ¡°Hey! You thief. You honorless brigand!¡± ¡°One day¡¯s head start! You promised!¡± Jelena waved as she threw her habit aside and rushed out the door. ¡°Besides, you were babbling incoherently the entire time we were headed here. You technically traded it to us free of charge. Bye, bye, bye!¡±
Calaf couldn¡¯t even manage to groan. He was kind of impressed. That Jelena sure was a relic hunter, alright. And the toothy smile as she threw her habit off and made her ¡®escape¡¯ such that it was¡­ that smile could easily be the young Stalwart¡¯s demise. Now she¡¯d run off with the holy lockpicks of the thief¡­ scout¡­ whoever! And he was the last person who¡¯d had access to this holy artifact of unfathomable importance. Meaning he was responsible for it, obligated to pursue her once more to retrieve it. But he was also honor-bound to let her go for at least a day. After which, she¡¯d be long gone, with scarcely any leads to follow. Calaf knew that Jelena Turandot was familiar with the workings of the church. She certainly knew how to put on a habit so professionally that it made for a perfect disguise. She was at home in the desert. So, a former clergy member from the deserts in or around Firefield turned apostate. Turandot¡­ Turandot¡­ ¡°Wait a minute¡­¡±
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sister Turandot
Clerical healing left the once-injured Stalwart as healthy as he¡¯d ever be. It was just the psychological toll that weighed on him now, steeling himself for what must be done, that kept Calaf in bed for another hour or so. Calaf spent the remainder of his bound-by-personal-honor twenty-four hours settling accounts in Firefield. He went to the cathedral and put out a messenger bird up and down the pilgrimage route informing Jorge¡¯s party about his adventures since they parted ways. He still had a fair bit of gold. In fact, he¡¯d inherited a healthy sum from Metzger, having been mid-battle with the thieves¡¯ guild don when Walter¡¯d bisected the crooked bishop. It was not enough experience to level up even once, alas, but the late bishop Metzger Cross had kept quite a lot of gold on his person. Calaf¡¯s borrowed redstone mail was ruined, so he sold that for a paltry sum. He then spent as much money as he dared to upgrade his existing steel armor kit to +5 all around. A notable damage and defense output without having to go for over-leveled stats. He then bought a redstone shield ¨C it would come in handy when he was properly leveled, at least. Just had to lug it around in his inventory until the time was right. He sent another letter to Riverglen informing his betrothed Deaconess Charlotte and coworker Gorman of the Sewer Grating that he¡¯d be heading back just as soon as the caravans allowed. This was not quite a lie, for he used his remaining gold to reserve a spot on a caravan heading south first thing in the morning, three and a half days from then. Three days. Should be more than enough for him to do what must be done. He¡¯d grown rather adept at the chase here. Even without his perception bonuses or any levels up, he¡¯d grown quite knowledgeable in how to navigate the desert. At least he hoped so. He knew the route he was meant to take, at least.
Exactly twenty-four hours to the minute when Calaf had been tricked into making that oath to give Jelena Turandot a head start, Calaf headed forth from Firefield. The route took him back south and east, along a narrow and faint but ramrod-straight path through the desert crags. Unfortunately, he¡¯d proven unable to find that cart driver and hire him for another trip back to Japella. The driver hadn¡¯t been at the house he¡¯d stayed at previously when Calaf passed through the residential district. But no matter ¨C the route went by faster on foot, believe it or not. Calaf marched through the desert, ample supplies keeping the dehydration and heat stroke debuffs at bay. Marching in the day had several disadvantages (not that he was going to give Jelena even more of a head start) and a few advantages. Beats seldom crossed the cart path. Though he did spy a dire-snake scuttling about in the grass.
Name: Dire-Serpent
Title: Common Snake, Beast (Venomous)
Level: 38
Status: 55/55 (Sunbathed)
Hmmm. A risky battle. The vile serpent was higher level than him. And if bitten, it would inflict a nasty plague status. But Calaf had antidotes, and he also had a secret weapon up his sleeve. He¡¯d spent all that gold to forge and then refine his fluted spear, after all. Calaf took aim¡­
Special ability: Throwing the Melee Weapon Description: Throw your melee implement. Generally not recommended. Accuracy is dependent on lighting, perception, and strength stats.
It was so bright that lighting wouldn¡¯t be a problem. His perception and strength were as good as they were going to get. Calaf held his spear aloft and let loose. The spear flew through the air, wobbled a bit, then struck the dire-serpent square in the head. A critical hit! But it was not over yet¡­
Name: Dire-Serpent
Status: 13/55 (Alert!)
The beast slithered towards a now-unarmed Calaf. The spear sat in the ground maybe eighteen paces away, behind the snake. It curled up and lunged. Calaf performed another parry with his shield, just as he¡¯d done to Metzger. But Metz was a full-grown man, and this snake was maybe ten pounds. The parry dashed the creature across the sands and rocks of the desert, reducing its HP further to 9/55. A mad dash for the spear ensued. Calaf nabbed it and wheeled around, just as the dire-snake reeled up for another leap. This would be its doom, as the creature leaped right into Calaf¡¯s spear thrust.
Item Obtained:
Snake Pelt x1 Snake Eggs x4
Snake Eyes x3 Snake Fangs x2
Gold x 1000 Experience: 400xp
A whole lot of crafting material. But where did the third snake eye come from? No matter, drops were often random like this. And the experience was enough to level up, and then some:
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 26:
Strength: 36 (+1)
Endurance: 52 (+2)
Agility: 23
Intelligence: 20 (+3)
Charisma: 18 (+4)
Arcane: 6
Luck: 26 (+1)
The first level-up in such a very long time. Fighting higher-level monsters was a high-risk proposition with high rewards. Sometimes you found a nominally high-level beast that was at least possible to best without too much effort.
Snake eggs made a nice enough omelet. Cooked in the late afternoon, once the heat was starting to die down. He marched back into the tiny barely-there hovel of Japella. A near-ghost town at the edge of the desert, maybe a population of a few dozen old folks in all. The old lady was there to meet him when he walked into town from the northwest. ¡°Ehe, she described who she was expecting to come follow her and I had my suspicions,¡± said the old lady. ¡°Well, you¡¯re a nice and respectable young man, I told her.¡± ¡°She¡¯s¡­ really here?¡± Calaf asked. So, his hunch was correct. ¡°Oh, the old sister? Yes. She was born here, she was.¡± The old lady chuckled like there was some inside joke she wasn¡¯t going to explain. Sister Turandot. It¡¯s not a common last name. ¡®Hunch¡¯ was perhaps underselling it. She may as well have circled her old hometown on a map, really. Would¡¯ve been listed in church records, so even if he hadn¡¯t stumbled into this one-dire-horse town on his way into the desert, finding her was a practical inevitability. Awfully risky of Jelena, granting this clue to her identity to a ranking member of the church. She clearly trusted him a great deal. Perhaps the old saying was wrong, and thieves were not without honor after all. ¡°Jelena¡¯s at the old chapel,¡± Calaf guessed. ¡°Indeed.¡± The old lady nodded. ¡°Already on first name basis. Well, I won¡¯t pry into your affairs.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Calaf frowned. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ going to have some words with her.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Oh, ho, of course. Good luck, sonny.¡±
A fetching crescent moon had risen over the desert. Calaf walked into the roofless remains of Japella¡¯s old Church of the Menu. Smaller settlements seldom got a full cathedral. But the old church grounds were much larger than anyone would expect for a village of this size. ¡°Knew you¡¯d make it.¡± The former Sister Turandot waited. Gone was her habit, replaced with her functional and tight burglary outfit full of pockets pretty much everywhere. ¡°You expected me to come after you?¡± Calaf asked. Jelena tilted her head to look upon Calaf with her good eye. She tossed the Scout¡¯s Lockpick at him. He grabbed it in mid-air and it was returned safely to his inventory. ¡°Is that the only reason you came all the way out here?¡± The thief asked. Moonlight shimmered down through a hole in the roof, wreathing Jelena in a thin silver sheen. Calaf shook his head. ¡°Why do you do¡­ all of this?¡± He asked. ¡°The thievery is frowned upon by the menu, but even most brigands are bound by its laws. Why did you do it ¨C despoil your brand I mean.¡± Jelena put a hand up near her eyepatch and rubbed it on instinct. ¡°Ah, this. Eh, it¡¯s a long story.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got some time before I have to head back,¡± Calaf said. At some point this relic-thieving apostate had been a member of good standing in the church. There had to be some sort of story to that. ¡°Ah, well. You see, several years back I was one of the first converts in Japella. The local deacon had opened up the first-ever mission in our lonely abode, and I attended every sermon. Rushed to be the first in our town to be branded, and of course, I got it right over the eye. So that I may better see the Menu and its Interface, yeah?¡± Again, Jelena put a nervous hand on her eyepatch. ¡°My, ah, I never met my parents, but it¡¯s been said my mother was a convert from overseas,¡± Calaf said. ¡°She got the brand in the same place.¡± It was a common practice among converts. Those second and onward-generation faithful like Calaf inherited a brand, but Jelena had been so blessed as to choose where hers would be placed. ¡°No doubt got the brand on your hand there from your father, then?¡± Jelena looked at Calaf¡¯s arm as he presented the Mark of the Menu. ¡°Indeed.¡± ¡°Sons usually inherit the branding location of their fathers, and vice versa.¡± Jelena laughed to herself. ¡°Heh. Guess any daughters of mine would¡¯ve had one in their eye as well.¡± ¡°So, you were the Deaconess of the church at Japella?¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°Sister Turandot, what the kiddos called me. Head of the orphanage. Departed on my pilgrimage shortly after getting branded. Came back home and got straight to work.¡± ¡°Wait. Your pilgrimage¡­¡± ¡°The full route, from rat sewers on to Firefield.¡± Jelena eyed Calaf up and down. ¡°Ehe, speaking of, there was a very peculiar pair of gate guards back then. Maybe, eh, three to five years ago or so?¡± Calaf opened his mouth to say something. Nothing came out. That would¡¯ve been around the time he¡¯d first started as a sewer guard ¨C shortly after his own pilgrimage. He¡¯d encountered countless initiates and converts alike in that sewer. ¡°Jog your memory?¡± Jelena asked with a hand on her hip. ¡°I, ah, so many pilgrims pass through the sewers daily,¡± Calaf managed, cheeks growing rosy. ¡°Well, I quite remember a handsome young gate guard who was very kind and considerate in explaining the ins and outs of our classes to me and the rest of the Japella gang. He was a little young for me at the time, but I¡¯d say you matured into quite the fine young man.¡± Jelena punctuated all this by winking her good eye at him. ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t recall¡­ betrothed¡­ nice and all, but¡­ un-Menuly conduct,¡± the stalwart stammered. ¡°Any¡­ anyway. What did you do once you returned to the Mission?¡± ¡°Ah, deacons had to head off to convert the next town. As the first local with any levels on my belt, I took over the church duties. Rest of my party took positions as well.¡± Jelena¡¯s gaze turned up towards the sky, suddenly quite wistful. ¡°Not a lot of them around anymore.¡±
Jelena described in detail the day-to-day life at the Chapel of the Menu at Japella. Teaching and preaching to the orphans of Japella. Providing church-donated meals to the impoverished town. Converting more and more of the town¡¯s young people to the Church of the Menu. ¡°Got pretty good at imparting that Brand,¡± she said. ¡°The old folks generally didn¡¯t bite ¨C starting at level one has more appeal for young guns rather than for people already north of sixty, yeah?¡±
¡°So, Mister Sewer Guard, guess we¡¯ve been shadowing each other for quite some time. Can¡¯t help but notice you¡¯ve fallen behind in the leveling game.¡± ¡°You can see that?¡± Calaf looked at the relic thief curiously. ¡°It¡¯s how you carry yourself. You could get rolled by even a modest-strength dire-camel around these parts,¡± Jelena said simply. ¡°C¡¯mon, I¡¯ll take you to the salt flats and get you some levels under your belt.¡± And so, the pair walked east a ways out of town. A herd of dire-axolotls flopped about in some ankle-deep pools. ¡°Just block with that big ol¡¯ shield of yours.¡± Jelena pulled out some kind of dire-creature bait. She threw it at a salty plain on the edge of the puddle. As she was no longer Of The Menu, Calaf could not properly see this item¡¯s descriptions or stats as she used it. She just¡­ kinda threw it out there under her own power. ¡°Here they come,¡± Jelena said, pulling out some gilded knives from a level far higher than was typical of Firefield. Calaf swapped out for that redstone shield. If he really was just going to be a stone wall, he could live with the stat debuff in exchange for that sweet, sweet 100% physical damage block. The first level 46 dire-axolotl charged, mouth open and drooling. Calaf held his shield aloft as the beast¡¯s jaws nearly surrounded the entire shield face. Jelena flanked with the knives. ¡°Hold ¡®em still! Woo, oh yeah!¡±
¡°Yes! Yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes!¡± Dire-axolotl after dire-axolotl fell by Jelena¡¯s blades. Then, the strangest thing happened ¨C all level experience and gold flowed into Calaf¡¯s coffers alone. He was the only one with a brand after all. Combined with Jelena felling level 40+ dire-beasts at a regular clip meant that level-ups came fast and loose.
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 29!
¡°Keep going!¡± Jelena said breathily.
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 30
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 31!
¡°One more, one more. Yeah~¡±
Calaf Leveled Up! Level: 32!
Level 33! 34. And so forth, until Calaf was level 38, and his redstone armor was suddenly able to be wielded without any stat penalties. All the while, Jelena was really¡­ enjoying things. ¡°C¡¯mon. All at once. C¡¯mon, Calaf yeah. Yeah~ yeah~!¡± Three dire-axolotls approached. The pair had nearly cleared out the pool. Now properly leveled, Calaf was able to wield his spear and shield all at once, stabbing and blocking at two of the creatures as Jelena stood at his back, hacking at the third creature with her knives. They were flush to each other, back-to-back. ¡°One down. C¡¯mon, keep going. Yeah,¡± Jelena rasped. She¡¯d killed his foster father. And yet, Calaf worked so well with her. ¡°Almost there,¡± Calaf jabbed the second beast with his spear, lining it up for Jelena¡¯s killing blow. ¡°One more time. We can do it together!¡± Jelena said, dancing around behind the creature. Together, the pair ran the beast through. Knives in its back, spear through its face. Experience multiplier! And when their session was over, Calaf reached these lofty heights:
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 39
Strength: 42 (+2)
Endurance: 60
Agility: 28 (+1)
Intelligence: 25 (+3)
Charisma: 21
Arcane: 8 (+2)
Luck: 31 (+3)
¡°Worked up quite a sweat,¡± Jelena said, back at the church. ¡°You¡¯re pretty good, Mister Sewer Guard.¡± Calaf sighed. They¡¯d fought well, t¡¯is true. ¡°You¡­ okay. Whew. I¡­ don¡¯t think you¡¯re a bad person,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°Sinful lifestyle as a relic thief notwithstanding.¡± ¡°Awww. Glad I could get through to you.¡± Jelena adjusted her eyepatch. ¡°We should do that again sometime.¡± ¡°I¡­ here, take this.¡± Bereft of a trade menu for his temporary companion, he placed a hefty gold pile on the floor. Their axolotl killing spree had gifted him with quite a high sum of gold. Even with the fee he was donating, Calaf still had double the gold he¡¯d come into town with. ¡°You¡¯re too kind, good sir. Well, it¡¯s hardly necessary, but thanks.¡± Calaf wiped his brow. ¡°You¡­ without the Menu, you can¡¯t trade. Can¡¯t even take part in the economy. Why did you¡­ y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Well, dear, among other things, the Menu has strings attached.¡± Jelena swung her gilded knives around. ¡°Without it, both crafting and wielding these are a pure matter of skill. Simply train with these the way I would with some level one iron dagger until I¡¯m an expert. Under the Menu, I¡¯d be some twenty levels too weak to even give them a swing.¡± ¡°But the Menu seemed to help this town. Look at what all you did here.¡± Jelena held her hand out, and Calaf stopped talking. ¡°I miss it, the orphanage, yes. But¡­ again, strings attached. As I moved up the ranks I was tasked with doing things I¡¯d prefer not to.¡± ¡°Jelena¡­¡± Calaf said, cheeks flushed. The relic thief¡¯s expression grew more somber. ¡°You¡¯ll¡­ you¡¯ll see, eventually. I just, can¡¯t talk about it.¡± The pair inched closer. ¡°But I¡¯m free, here. Even those fools in the thieves'' guild are bound by the Menu so they can manipulate it. But Enkidu and I? We can go anywhere, do anything. Don¡¯t you want a taste of that freedom, Calaf?¡± ¡°That¡­ does sound tempting.¡± Calaf inched closer still. The pair were framed perfectly in that thin sliver of moonlight. It would be dawn soon, and this picture-perfect frame would vanish. Their paths had been intersecting for¡­ ages. And she was dangerous, not like that didn¡¯t have an appeal in and of itself! Calaf gazed upon her face ¨C the slight scar running just underneath her eyepatch. Her curved lips, cheekbones, freckles, warmly-bronzed skin. It wasn¡¯t like he was attracted to this thieving criminal or anything. She was just¡­ nice. Aesthetically pleasing. Jelena Turandot was a cold-blooded criminal. One who was passionate and voluptuous and so incredibly free-spirited. With a tight outfit and skilled hands and an immaculate body all around. And the way her bare skin had gleamed in the Twelfthnight hot springs. The way the water glistened off her skin as she¡¯d emerged. He¡¯d done his duty and glanced away for the modesty of all involved, of course. But the memory invaded his thoughts, now. Totally not attracted. But their lips were drifting closer, and it had been some time since either averted their gaze from each other¡¯s eyes. Why, he couldn¡¯t even kiss or hold hands under the Menu. But she wasn¡¯t bound by the Menu. She could just take charge, lead him along and¡­ All of a sudden, the Stalwart imagined her impassioned combat quotes, repurposed in a more pleasant form of duel¡­ Calaf shook his head. He took a step back. ¡°You¡­ tempting me with your succubus magic!¡± he cried. ¡°Pffft.¡± Jelena tried and failed to compose herself. ¡°What? Ay, was I this dense back in the day? Whoo, boy. You¡¯re down bad.¡± ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m betrothed.¡± He crossed his arms, defensive. ¡°I will not be tempted.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Jelena said, deadpan. She looked away. ¡°The town Deaconess, yeah? ¡°Indeed. A godly and upstanding woman of the Church.¡± ¡°Good¡­ good luck with her.¡± Jelena exhaled sharply. ¡°I mean that. I hope it¡­ hope it works out.¡± Having successfully resisted the siren song of temptation, Calaf felt another pang of sympathy for the relic thief. ¡°You¡­ seem like a good person at heart,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°If things had been different perhaps you would still have your faith, and we would never need come to blows. But so long as you continue to steal relics and live as a wanted murderer of the good Pryor Yordan, we must¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have any relics on me,¡± she said. ¡°Handed the thief¡¯s lockpicks over to you. Pawned the Granite Pass relic back before I even knew what they did. Once it was clear the church tripled its bounty on me, I anonymously mailed the Riverglen relic back to the church.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ surprised. Is it really true?¡± Calaf asked ¡°What, wanna strip search me?¡± Jelena struck a pose. ¡°W-won¡¯t be necessary, ma¡¯am!¡± So all relics were accounted for, once he returned the lockpicks. His mission was truly complete. ¡°Thank you, Jelena,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Any time, Mister Sewer Guard,¡± Jelena winked again. The pair smiled at each other. They were approached by a third figure, muscular and with a full, ragged beard. ¡°The sun rises,¡± grumbled Enkidu. ¡°Jelena, it¡¯s time for us to leave.¡± ¡°What¡¯s his backstory?¡± Calaf asked, legitimately curious. ¡°Eh, you don¡¯t want to know,¡± Jelena said, then giggled.
¡°I¡¯ll put in a good word for you with the Church,¡± Calaf promised. ¡°Doubt it will get the bounty off my back but¡­ it¡¯s appreciated.¡± Again, Jelena smiled. ¡°And I forgive you.¡± Calaf gave a curt bow. ¡°For the Pryor. For what it¡¯s worth.¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°You¡¯re under no obligation to do so. But, sure. For what it¡¯s worth.¡± The relic thief leaned against the open doorway of the burnt-over chapel. ¡°Be seein¡¯ you on the trail, Hot Shot.¡± Calaf didn¡¯t quite know where that nickname kept coming from. But he kind of liked it. ¡°May we meet again on more friendly terms.¡± Calaf nodded. The now level 39 Stalwart left Japella with the dawn, feeling at peace and wiser than when he¡¯d first left Riverglen at a paltry level 7. He was confident that he¡¯d meet the former Sister Turandot again. Not sure where, not sure when. But still, he hoped...
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Pilgrims Progress
Name: Jelena Turandot, Pilgrim
Rank: Convert
Level 1
Status: 4/4 (Giddy and Pious)
Weapons: Wooden Stave
A tall woman in simple pilgrim robes stood at the back of a pack of a dozen or so new converts from about midway along the pilgrimage route. She had a complexion and features hailing from the high desert, as did the three converts in front of her. Ahead, wreathed in the warm glow of a low-hanging late-afternoon sun streaming into the sewers at the pilgrim¡¯s backs, awaited a pair of sewer sentries. These guards greeted each party of faithful in turn. ¡°Hail, travelers! I am¡­¡±
Name: Calaf of Riverglen, Sewer Guard
Rank: Shielder
Level: 3
Status: 8/8 (Nervous)
Weapons: Simple Iron Spear
The second figure was some years and levels this young guard¡¯s senior. ¡°Before you lay the sewers of Riverglen,¡± Calaf explained with a novice¡¯s eagerness. ¡°Where the Ancient Heroes of Yore fought their first true battle. Now you, too, shall clear out this same sewer. The dire-rats shouldn¡¯t give you a problem so long as you stick to your parties. But if you see anything that your Interfaces describe as a ¡®Rat King¡¯ please come back to us and Mister Gorman will take care of it!¡± The second, more experienced, guard nodded somewhat inattentively. Parties walked through and received the same spiel in turn. ¡°You keep staring at the guard,¡± said a Japellan girl. ¡°I am not,¡± Jelena said in mock protest. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ excited to begin the pilgrimage.¡± The Japellan party, all from a recently converted settlement and all youngsters in their teens and twenties waited next in line. Jelena herself had been the first to convert and had led most of her party through the Branding process. Her rather poofy hair was restrained in a traveler''s bandana. Jelena¡¯s right eye was a rusty brown-red, while her Branded left eye had a slight purple tint to it where the inlaid Brand symbol had enhanced her vision with the holy mark of the Interface. ¡°Hail, travelers!¡± the rookie guard began again. ¡°Hey there.¡± Jelena smiled. ¡°You guard these sewers every day?¡± ¡°Um¡­ yes,¡± Calaf said, implacable. ¡°That is my job, madam.¡± The rest of the party giggled. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here to protect us from the rats, good sir.¡± New Convert Turandot winked her branded eye. Immediately, the young guard¡¯s cheeks turned rosy.
Special Technique: Charm Effect: 35% Base Chance of Putting Affected Target Under Your Influence for Nine Minutes and Thirty Seconds.
And on Calaf¡¯s Interface¡­
Name: Calaf of Riverglen, Sewer Guard (Jelena¡¯s)
Rank: Initiate
Level: 3
Status: 8/8 (Amorous!)
Weapons: Simple Iron Spear
¡°Ma¡¯am, please be safe in the sewer.¡± The guard clasped his hands together. ¡°Is there anything you need, Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°I¡­ think we¡¯ll be okay.¡± Jelena¡¯s own cheeks turned a darker shade. ¡°Okay, Ma¡¯am. Do call if you need anything at all, Ma¡¯am.¡±
The Japellan party continued into the sewers, looking for rats to slay. ¡°Well.¡± Jelena exhaled sharply. ¡°That was unexpected. Who knew that such an ability could be available to low-level pilgrims? Back before the baptism I always was able to turn heads with a wink. But here I hardly even had to try. It just sort of happened¡­¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t changed a bit, Jelena,¡± said one of the younger men. ¡°I¡­ it wasn¡¯t like I meant to put the moves on him.¡± Jelena said, suddenly self-conscious. ¡°Ay, I was hoping to avoid this.¡± ¡°Going to, like, shoot your shot?¡± asked another woman from Japella. ¡°Well, it¡¯s true that I have a bit of a¡­ reputation back home.¡± Jelena¡¯s cheeks blushed a deeper shade still. ¡°And it¡¯s true I would have considered it some months ago. But¡­ I¡¯m a pious member of the church now. Since I took to the Menu, I have vowed to live a chaste, Menuly life. It simply won¡¯t do to charm every fetching guard I find along the path. Not anymore.¡± ¡°Conversion¡¯s turned even Jelena into a pure and virginal maiden again,¡± another pilgrim said, to uproarious laughter. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle!¡± said another. Jelena frowned. ¡°Hmmph. I¡¯ll be holding you boys to your vows for once as well, good sirs.¡± That shamed the other Japellans into silence. ¡°Besides,¡± the pious convert Jelena added. ¡°The guard was a little young for the travails of heartbreak and seduction. In another half-decade, he¡¯ll surely mature into a fine young man. But for now¡­¡±
Years later and a few hundred miles away, Jelena Turandot sat about her desert hometown and reminisced. She had her eyepatch off, letting her clouded-over eye and accompanying vertical scar air out in the dry deserts around her hometown. ¡°Guess he doesn¡¯t recognize me,¡± the older, more mature Jelena said to herself. ¡°I may be thankful for that. Heh.¡± ¡°You met him before,¡± Enkidu said after a time. ¡°Every convert would have met him.¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°Guess I didn¡¯t give him as strong a first impression as I thought.¡± The relic huntress giggled to herself. ¡°Why, I only just remembered the details of that little rendezvous myself,¡± she concluded and then giggled again. ¡°You have a soft spot for that guard.¡± Her companion grumbled. ¡°Soft spot?¡± Jelena¡¯s lips angled upwards. ¡°I want to devour that dashing, noble little do-gooder alive. But he¡¯s betrothed and all¡­¡± Enkidu grumbled again, a huffy grunt that indicated he had no time for this nonsense. ¡°Jealous?¡± Jelena grinned. ¡°Never.¡± ¡°Good to know~¡± Jelena donned her eyepatch. ¡°Y¡¯know it took great restraint not to share your embarrassing backstory.¡± Her companion gave no response. Jelena chuckled to herself, then sniffed the air. A strange static filled the air. Downright uncommon for the desert. It caused hairs on Jelena¡¯s arms and neck to bristle. ¡°Let¡¯s head north. Feel somethin¡¯ coming,¡± the relic thief said. Enkidu, the Unbranded, bearded mountain of a man stashed his sword and followed in Jelena¡¯s wake without another word. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
¡°That was¡­ anticlimactic,¡± said a convert, Pristine Rat Pelt (x5) in hand. ¡°Didn¡¯t even take ten minutes,¡± said another. ¡°I¡¯m sure the Ancient Heroes had no problem besting the rats either,¡± Jelena Turandot said. ¡°It¡¯s a historically accurate station on our pilgrimage.¡± The party returned through the sewers, an extra level or two in hand and the dire-rats fleeing in their wake. They were among the last parties to enter the pilgrimage station on this day, and so the light through the front portcullis was beginning to fade. That gate guard from before still appeared in the converts¡¯ Interfaces as: Calaf of Riverglen, Sewer Guard (Jelena¡¯s), indicating that the Charm still had about 30 seconds to go. ¡°Did you succeed? Is there anything you need?¡± asked the charmed guard. ¡°We did fine. Even leveled up,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Thank you for your guidance, good sir guard.¡± The rest of the pilgrimage party giggled. ¡°Do let me know if there¡¯s anything you need while you¡¯re in town, ma¡¯am,¡± said the guard. ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving in the morning. But if anything comes up, I¡¯ll be sure to let you know.¡± ¡°If this were before the Deacons set up that Mission back home, you¡¯d already have taken him back to the inn,¡± said another convert. Jelena shot her fellow travelers a scornful look. ¡°Never mind them. Keep on doing your job, good sir guard~¡± The Japellan converts left the sewer, leaving the hapless rookie guard¡¯s ¡®Charmed¡¯ status to dissipate of its own accord.
Calaf walked through the desert, the heat already beginning to build in the midmorning. He had plenty of water to stave off negative status effects. Countless pilgrims had gone through the sewers in the few short years that Calaf had served as a guard on that first pilgrimage station. If Jelena had converted during that time, they would have had to meet at some point. This brought Calaf¡¯s memories returning to an incident some years ago. Was that¡­ the pilgrim from the desert region? A woman, eager, pious, and recently converted. A few years his senior, similar face, brand on the left eye¡­ Calaf threw his hands up in the middle of the dire-goat path between Japella and Firefield. It was her all along! The woman he¡¯d briefly become smitten with back on his first month on the job! Gorman had insisted at the time that Calaf had been stricken by some sort of ¡®Charmed¡¯ debuff, but Calaf hadn¡¯t noticed one bit. ¡°Ahhhh!¡± Calaf shook his head from side to side. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why I was so quick to trust her. Perhaps I¡¯ve been made extra-susceptible to her fiendish succubus wiles!¡± Calaf walked on, grumbling and flustered. His pace gradually slowed. He checked his status screen. There was no sign of being charmed in recent history. Heck, could Jelena even do that without the Menu¡¯s power now? As a ¡®special technique,¡¯ it was specific to those who lived under the Interface. An ungodly life denied lapsed followers access to the Menu¡¯s divine skillset. Everything Calaf had done over the last night and into the morning had been a result of his own will, at least. Letting her go, having some manner of sympathy despite his target having murdered the good Pryor Yordan. The Stalwart tried suppressing any doubts he may have had. There was no way he could apprehend Jelena at this time anyway. The relics were accounted for, including the Thief¡¯s Lockpicks in his inventory right now. And¡­ loathe though he was to admit it, his experience on the route, particularly everything with Baldr and the church arbiters, gave the young and faithful paladin-aspirant pause. The Holy Church of the Menu was a noble institution selflessly spreading the good word of Menu-based life throughout the world. Without a life ordered by the Interface and experienced via Menu, why, everything would be chaos! There¡¯d be no organizing principle behind society at all. Life would just sputter about unbridled! Even so, the highest-level church arbiters had run Calaf through with a sword longer than he was tall. And not even due to any whiff of heresy on Calaf¡¯s part! And while the sadistic Baldr had proven himself more than willing to smite anyone, even to save face, Walter might not need much of a reason at all. The heretical apostate he¡¯d been pursuing for so long turned out not only to have rescued him from the church arbiters but revealed herself to not be quite so fiendish a villain on a personal level. It was the more iniquitous locations from Port Town northward, Calaf decided, that grated on the Stalwart¡¯s noble and chivalrous sensibilities. Yes, when he returned home things would be better. He¡¯d be surrounded by familiar faces amid idyllic countryside, back within hand-holding distance of his beloved fianc¨¦e. Calaf had earned many levels on his pilgrimage thus far. Just one more level would bring him to 40. There, he could reclass into Errant at any shrine. It would represent the midway point on his journey to Paladin. Halfway, that is, in terms of titles and rank. It was less than a fifth of the required XP to reach the top levels, where level-up scaling quickly turned into an exponentially sloped cliff. Experience north of forty would come slower, each level an accomplishment in and of itself. Many lived their entire lives and never made it to level 50. But having gotten a taste for it, Calaf was now gripped with a desire to see the rest of the pilgrimage route through one day. For with levels came influence in the Church. And if there was some rot at the heart of the church, perhaps Calaf could rise in the ranks to reform the institution from within. Calaf¡¯s introspective malaise was interrupted when his Interface opened unprompted, replacing the endless desert landscape and obscuring his entire vision from horizon to horizon:
SYSTEM MESSAGE (OVERRIDE): DUSTED OFF THE OLD MESSAGING SYSTEM, HOSS. STOP. WORLD IS WATCHING. STOP. JUST SAY WHAT YOU WANT HERE. STOP.
As soon as it appeared, this message turned ruby red and dissipated in a shattering crash. So disruptive was this intrusion that Calaf tripped over his feet and stumbled to the sandy ground. ¡°What was¡­?¡± Calaf gazed at the Interface Brand on his left hand, inherited from the father who¡¯d died on the pilgramage path somewhere before Calaf was old enough to remember. Though Calaf flipped through his Interface, through Menu after Menu, there was no evidence of any such message at all. He checked Stats, Inventory, and even into the seldom-dwelled-upon nitty-gritty of Substats, it was as if no such message ever existed. Just as soon as the first message had appeared and vanished, a second, smaller System Message appeared before him:
SYSTEM MESSAGE (OVERRIDE): BRANDED OF THE MENU, THE BISHOPS¡¯ SERMONS ARE BUT LI---
Just like the first, this second message disintegrated and proved irrecoverable. Isolated out here amidst the sands, there was little proof that this all wasn¡¯t just some weird mirage. ¡°Huh.¡± Calaf managed, then got back to his feet. ¡°That was¡­ odd.¡± With a bit more trepidation than before, Calaf set forth for the dunes and hovels of Firefield. Truly, one step closer to Riverglen¡­
It was still another day or so before the Stalwart¡¯s convoy would come through. With no desire to whittle away his newfound riches at a gambling parlor (again), Calaf instead decided to focus on self-improvement, cultivating a proper, chivalrous pre-Paladin mindset. Firstly, Calaf consulted some caravan records. He ensured that Talia of Granite Pass and all the other Menu-Branded prisoners from the thieves¡¯ guild hideout had safely left town. The words of Baldr and his hunting party were still fresh in Calaf¡¯s mind, and he shuddered as he spied Talia and three other familiar names on a caravan roster heading south. Maybe Baldr and company were still searching for any last witnesses from the desert hideout where Metzger had met his end. If not, Calaf prayed the prisoners would never encounter another church arbiter in their lives. If so, at least the prisoners were out of town. Trackable, perhaps, but far from here. Calaf returned to the main street, where the pilgrimage crowds had just passed the high-water mark for the season. If that mysterious ¡®Systems Message¡¯ had caused any panic or fear amidst the revelers of Firefield there was no evidence of it. There were more people on this street than the entire off-pilgrimage season population of Riverglen. Even despite the crowds, enough room was cordoned off in a naturally-acoustic divot for a passion play: ¡°Hark!¡± said a level 10 Shielder in fake and purely ceremonial armor meant to approximate a level 80 look. ¡°Fair maiden, our journey is nigh.¡± A level 8 younger man dressed as a level 75 priestess clasped their hands in prayer. ¡°Oh, brave warrior. I shall accompany you. With the Holy Interface, this god-blessed System we were granted at the southern cavern, we shall surely defeat the demonic hordes!¡± Like all Church-educated citizens born under the Menu, Calaf immediately recognized these two figures as the Paladin and Cleric of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. Why, a Bronze Ring of Title-Spoofing allowed their Interfaces to identify them as such:
Name: Roland, the Holy Paladin
Rank: Paladin, Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level 10
Status: 24/24 (In-Character)
Weapons: Prop Sword and Board (x1)
¡­ and:
Name: Mia, the Holy Priestess
Rank: Cleric, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level 8
Status: 15/15 (Nervous Understudy)
Weapons: Prop Cleric¡¯s Talisman (x1)
Couldn¡¯t properly spoof the level range of an endgame holy hero; that was the purpose of another, much rarer ring. Either ring would be a heretical form of impersonation were it not part of a Church-approved passion play. Two other level 7s played the Scout and Battlemage, respectively, as the group set forth from the Riverglen sewers. Calaf observed from the back of the crowd, hoping that the lessons of the Paladin¡¯s journey would renew his rather strained, borderline-tempted ties to the faith. He watched as the group marched through Deepwood in a highly abbreviated version of the old heroes¡¯ journey. In truth, the Cleric had written down the church¡¯s earliest teachings on the very trees as the party marched through the woods. There were no-such trees to use as props in this desert-based production, so the cast mostly just sang a song about the deed. At Twelfthnight they sheltered near the romantic hot springs. Plains Junction had not yet existed in its modern form. But many followed in the heroes¡¯ wakes, accepting the Menu into their hearts and using the nascent trading interface to start the first rudimentary commercial district along what would become the main pilgrimage line. Port Town was much smaller back then, and the region was less populated. The Scout had led the party through the swamps. While back home, he performed some properly holy and not at all burglary-related tasks, such as land surveying. The play was in a rush to get to Firefield before the intermission. These local theater outfits always had a hometown bias. But the party of four trudged through a desert vista, the painted background mural matching the surrounding environs for once. As was described in the church scriptures, the party nearly suffered from the Heat Stroke status effect, only to be provided some life-giving Dire-Goat¡¯s Bladder Canteens of Water (Full) (x4) from local nomads. ¡°Good sirs,¡± said the Paladin-actor. ¡°Won¡¯t you abandon your heathen desert-dwelling ways and join us in righteous rebellion against the Demon Lord and his army of Un-Menuly fiends?¡± The nomads immediately dropped to their knees and accepted the Brand. Now empowered by the Holy Menu, they took up arms in rebellion against the Demon Lord. ¡°We travel due north, into the highlands,¡± said the Paladin. ¡°Where the majority of humanity awaits near the capital, toiling in fear under the demonic regime. From there, we shall march in force against the Demon Lord himself. But first¡­¡± The Paladin turned to the audience. ¡°¡­ let¡¯s stop in for a bite at Friar Destin¡¯s Dishes ¡®n Dungeon Dives.¡± ¡°Located conveniently just down the street!¡± echoed the Cleric and various extras, as a choir. A curtain wafted down, and the intermission began. The audience began to file out, heading over to the nearby Friar Destin¡¯s location. Once the intermission was done, the Ancient Heroes of Yore would winter in the pleasant ever-Fall microclimate of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. They would liberate the Old Capital, Brand the populace to better resist demonic influences, and the martyred Paladin would finally slay the hulking, city-sized Demon Lord in single combat at the cost of his life. All founding duties of the Church were then put onto the Holy Priestess, Cleric Mia, a role passed down through the ages via the holy bloodlines. And so, the Menu had proven essential to slaying the vile, chaotic demon hordes and banishing them from this world forevermore. Calaf knew the story well ¨C Pryor Yordan had put on a similar, yearly play with a focus on the heroes¡¯ earliest Riverglen adventures. ¡°Hmmph. That¡¯s not how I remember it.¡± A signature, twangy, devil-may-care voice set the Stalwart¡¯s neck hairs on end. His arm brand itched furiously, as did a thin, nigh-invisible scar running from his shoulder down through his chest cavity. Two figures ¨C a man in somewhat extravagant clerical robes and another in a loose-fitting Battlemage¡¯s long coat marched around behind Friar Destin¡¯s Dishes ¡®n Dungeon Dives. Their Interface designations were hardly necessary. ¡°All the holes in the story. Embellishments. Selective lack of focus on key aspects. It¡¯s a miracle we¡¯re not putting down heretical uprisings left and right.¡± Baldr laughed. Calaf tip-toed after the pair, hiding behind the establishment and hoping the stealth and Agility bonuses from the Thief¡¯s Lockpick still blessed him. He eavesdropped, hearing again enhanced by this holy relic. ¡°You talk too much,¡± Walter grumbled, like an animal¡¯s snarl. ¡°Whispers are hardly a secure line of communique.¡± ¡°And to think, the Shackle, the Lord¡¯s brand as some holy blessing to beat back demons. If those rabble-rousers of Yore could only see¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got a role to play. Until it is done.¡± Walter¡¯s head lowered. ¡°Yes, yes. I can play along for another century more,¡± Baldr said. ¡°If I have to.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Walter promised. The duo disappeared around a corner. Calaf tip-toed up to hug the next wall. ¡°¡­ even with the latest spate of heresies and relic thievery, the southern Spire will be complete within two pilgrimage seasons.¡± ¡°Ah, might as well be a blink of the eye,¡± Baldr said. ¡°I can wait that long. Hopefully, Klavier will find us some prey up north to tide us over. Our last quarry ran off on us. Didn¡¯t even seem interested in digging further into those relics. Hardly even remember their names¡­ Helena? Janice?¡± ¡°The wild man¡¯s stench. I''ve smelled it before¡­¡± Walter let out a snort of disgust before dropping the topic. ¡°As for our next quarry, don¡¯t get your hopes up. It¡¯s just another doomed reformist movement. They¡¯ll be crucified within a season.¡± The pair walked north and east into the wide-open desert, where Calaf dared not follow. It was a no-man¡¯s land in that direction, home to not even an oasis or trading post. The arbiters had a whiff of conspiracy about them, though there was nothing that indicated to Calaf that they weren¡¯t operating with the full blessing of the Church of the Menu. Perhaps the faith required more dutiful reformation from within than Calaf first thought.
Chapter Thirty: System Message From A Mysterious Woman
Calaf returned to his Firefield inn with little fanfare. He¡¯d learned not to delve into the affairs of church arbiters too closely. It was bad for life expectancy. Instead, Calaf retired to a modest 500 gold-per-night room. He gazed up at a porous stucco ceiling, mulling over a most eventful couple of days. When sleep came, he hardly noticed. When the Stalwart next awoke, his vision was gone. Obscured by another jittering, red status menu¡­
SYSTEM MESSAGE (OVERRIDE): BRANDED OF THE MENU, THE BISHOPS¡¯ SERMONS ARE BUT LIES! SHACKLES USED TO VOLUNTARILY FETTER ENDLESS GENERATIONS THROUGH DOGMA WITH WHAT THE OLD LORD RESERVED FOR THE CRUELEST OF PUNISHMENTS. EVEN IN DEATH, THE CHURCH CRYPTS WITHHOLD OUR CORPSES FOR EVENTUA---
There was nothing that could be viewed outside of this blaring, all-caps crimson message window. Calaf tumbled out of bed, entirely unable to see the ground as he banged his big toe on the inn''s redstone bed mount. ¡°By the Paladin¡¯s shin guard!¡± Calaf declared, rolling around, still blinded by a message he did not at all consent to receiving. In an instant, this message disintegrated into an ashy haze that wafted off into the atmosphere. No sooner did the red room-obscuring menace float away on the breeze was it replaced with another Interface block in a more even-heeled azure tone:
SYSTEM MESSAGE: FAITHFUL, IGNORE STRANGE COMMUNIQUES. THIS IS AN OLDER, OUTMODED ASPECT OF THE HOLY MENU SUSCEPTIBLE TO TAMPERING BY APOSTATE FORCES. SO-CALLED ¡®SYSTEM MESSAGES¡¯ ARE NOT CHURCH CANON AND WILL HEREBY BE RESTRICTED. IGNORE THE MESSAGE. CHURCH ARBITERS INVESTIGATE ITS HERETICAL SOURCE EVEN NOW. DO NOT DISCUSS ITS CONTENTS. FAITHFUL, STAND STRONG. ¨C SPEAKETH THE ARCHBISHOP ECUMENICAL COUNCIL
This message dissipated just as soon and as complete as the first. No record of either disturbance remained. No message history allowed Calaf to revisit them either. With the unprompted message stricken as heresy, it would likely never be acknowledged again by anyone in good standing with the church. Regardless, Calaf checked the inn¡¯s tavern floor. Few were lingering around at this hour. Fewer still would talk about what happened. ¡°Ey? Weird message? Yeah, got both,¡± said the innkeeper. ¡°Well, you saw that redaction, yeah? Nevermind all that. Praise tha whole church, yeah? And all they do for us.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± said Calaf, with a solemn nod. ¡°Praise the church.¡±
Back outside, the temperatures were already considered sweltering to Calaf¡¯s fragile, more temperate Riverglen constitution. Pilgrimage season was coldly calculated to avoid the desert heat and swampy haze that affected the middle of the route in high summer. But pilgrimage season was getting long in the tooth. Any faithful just now setting off from the first among towns would be reaching Port Town just in time for a deadly cocktail of heat and humidity. Another Olde Heroes Passion Play was being performed in the same natural acoustic divot beside the road. ¡°Hark! Our beloved Paladin is slain!¡± declared ¡®Cleric Mia¡¯. ¡°Fallen, in the very moment he landed the killing blow on our devilish overlord!¡± Roland¡¯s actor lay on the floor at the feet of a giant paper mach¨¦ monstrosity representing the lord of all ancient demons. His hit points were still maxed out, but this was a rough approximation of events, so audiences typically let this break from realistic verisimilitude slide. Various minor actors and bit parts fell to their knees in well-rehearsed lamentation. ¡°But all is not lost!¡± the actor cosplaying as Mia held their hands over a bump in their cleric¡¯s robes, courtesy of a Plain Feather Pillow (x1). ¡°For blessed were we with holy twins at Autumn¡¯s Redoubt! Long may our descendants govern over a world where all souls are Shackled to the Menu and its Interface.¡± ¡°Praise be!¡± proclaimed the cast, in unison. ¡°Hallowed be the Menu. Praise the Interface and its brands. All bloodlines must be converted!¡± Among the higher-ups in the church, there were still those who possessed either the twin eye brands or the signature Paladin¡¯s neck brand of this most holy of couples. In place of curtains, the cast bowed, the Paladin rose (he is risen!) and bowed again to thunderous applause. Another passion play was completed. The troupe performed their play thrice daily, with a tarp providing crucial shade from the midday sun. These early shows were much less crowded and, with breakfast much less popular and the act-ending product placement not quite timed ideally for the morning, the adjacent restaurant was only modestly busy. Calaf ate a hearty breakfast at Friar Destin¡¯s Dishes ¡®n Dungeon Dives. They were open at every hour of the day to provide sustenance to weary travelers. The Stalwart traded 250 of his hard-earned gold for a¡­
Item: Fort Duran Du Loc Dire-Duck Sandwich (x1) Description: Dire-Duckwich Assembled from the Finest Ingredients of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. Delivered fresh by courier daily. A hearty breakfast meal. (Str +2, End +2 for three hours)
Item: Frothy Mug of Water (x2)Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Description: Unassuming mug of water slightly diluted by beer. No stat benefits, but it is essential for keeping hydrated.
A meal fit for a prospective Paladin, verily. There would be no traveling north to finish off the pilgrimage route. Not while at least three unhinged arbiters were running amuck in that direction. No, sir! Calaf was looking forward to getting back to the Sewer, over-leveled though he was for a simple guard at this point. And to see his dearest betrothed once more¡­ yes, his pilgrimage was at its end, for this season. A returning pilgrim convoy would take him back to the junction at least. After which there was little else on the field that could pose much of a threat to a near level forty Branded of his skillset. He hoped he could level up on the road, to qualify at a shrine for the next class on his long journey to Paladin. Calaf¡¯s reservation slot on the convoy awaited in his inventory. It would leave this afternoon, from the road just outside Firefield¡¯s cathedral. Shortly, as it happened, after the passion play was complete. The convoy awaited outside the squat Redstone fencing indicating the perimeter of Firefield¡¯s grand cathedral. Calaf queued up, only to find after a few minutes that nobody else in this line had Menu designations! Why, he¡¯d stepped into the conversion queue, where recent travelers and those whose hearts had been moved by the various testimonies and passion plays by the roadside agreed to bind themselves to the Menu. Mid-high level Cleric spells could impart a brand on a man or beast. Indeed, this was the preferred way of branding potentially dangerous or feral targets; avoids getting one¡¯s hands dirty or face mauled. But a far older method of applying the Brand to faithful existed. At the gates to the cathedral stood a simple Knight of thereabouts level 25. And in their hands¡­
Item: Branding Iron of the Interface (x1) Description: avnsEsle eargstt solu errvfeo ot hte acrIefnte. lyogr ot het enodm gnik. Holy Item of the Church of the Menu. Use to baptize converts and place upon them the Brand of the Interface wherever it may touch the skin. Effect does not stack, but can be reapplied should Brand be Scoured. Allows access to magic. Allows access to system messages from On High. Allows accumulation of gold through approved sources. Sets target to level one and all stats to an appropriate baseline. Allows accumulation of experience. The mark of the Church, by which all in good standing must be applied.
Such branding irons were ancient, perhaps the most ancient relics of the Church. And they allowed any middling church official to baptize converts, instead of requiring some Deacon or Bishop to take time out of their busy day of ecclesial duties to Brand every individual convert. Huh. Calaf scarcely noticed that scrambled text before. It had just appeared as a strange runic flourish to the menu. He only noticed it now, in the way that you don¡¯t notice a fancy five-gold word or phrase until encountering it in memorable context, after which it''s suddenly everywhere! Beyond that, church liturgical descriptions tended towards the verbose. Many laypeople zoned out before reading all that. That¡¯s what priests and deacons were for ¨C to explain the gist of it to laypeople. At any rate, this knight used his equipped Branding Iron of the Interface upon the next convert in line. The convert was a man of middle age. A traveling trader or caravan guard. Strong muscles indicated a lifetime of strenuous work. He received the brand upon his forearm, about where Calaf¡¯s own brand was, just on the right arm instead of the left. The trader grimaced as the brand took hold, causing only a minor bit of pain as it embedded itself into the convert¡¯s flesh. Slowly, an Interface materialized, now visible to the convert and allowing church faithful to properly see his name and status:
Name: Trevor, the Trader
Rank: Convert
Level 1/1
Status: 13/13 (Fit)
His lifetime of built-up musculature would weigh his starting stats towards strength and endurance, as well as push the occasional level-up distribution towards these stats as well. But like all converts he was level one, his natural strength abstracted against the level requirements and many substats of the Most Holy Interface. There were things he¡¯d have been able to do before that were now locked behind stat requirements and potentially many level-ups¡­ but there were also many more benefits to being able to access items right off the Interface, gaining gold and experience from fights or tasks, and being integrated into the church¡¯s Menu System, of course. Why, that just made it more shocking that someone like Jelena, the former Sister Turandot of the Japella mission, would blind her eye to Scour her brand. Getting a new brand after losing one in an accident was uncommon but doable. But being baptized once more after excommunication ¨C let alone self-excommunication ¡ª was nearly unheard of! Calaf shook his head. There he went, thinking of that relic thief again. It wouldn¡¯t do to have Jelena on the brain, not after their fateful encounter met with a surprisingly tender stalemate. He¡¯d accounted for all stolen relics. She¡¯d chosen her path long ago. All he could do now was hope to be a beacon of chivalrous order on his climb up the church ranks. Perhaps one day Jelena could seek a pardon for her horrible crimes, receive a new brand somewhere less conspicuous, and live out a life of quiet penance at a nunnery. Yes, what were the chances fate would ever bring the pair together again? it wouldn¡¯t do to dwell upon her dashing face and feature-framing eyepatch. Or her teasing, carefree demeanor even in the most dire of circumstances. Or her skilled hands twirling daggers so deftly. Or her acrobatic leaps and flexibility, unbound by any pesky Agility stats. Or the way her stupid, sexy corset was just tight enough to keep all her bits and bobs barely secure enough as she danced about in combat. Or¡­ Again, Calaf shook his head. He awkwardly shuffled over from the convert line to the southbound convoy queue. This was the murderer of his beloved foster Pryor that young Calaf was fantasizing about. Oh, the horrible sin he was committing in his heart! Checking in to the caravan did little to distract the Stalwart. The caravan runner merely opened a reservation list in his Interface, found Calaf¡¯s name among the caravan guards, cross-referenced it with the name on Calaf¡¯s own Menu, and waved him aboard. ¡°Welcome,¡± said the driver. ¡°Convoy is packed full. Can always use another mid-level guard in these parts. Just be sure to keep the dire-Tarantulas off the low-levels. Got a habit of dragging pilgrims back to their nest and infesting them.¡± Back in the convert line, an enthusiastic young woman barely out of her teens approached. ¡°Do you vow to live your life forever bound to the Interface? To worship under the Menu, and remain faithful to its Church?¡± Asked the guard with the brand. The convert nodded, giddy. ¡°Where, then, do you want your brand? Keeping in mind, of course, that this mark shall be passed on to any daughters born under the Menu, as well as any sons born out-of-Interface with the yet unconverted.¡± The young woman pointed to her right eye, with gusto. ¡°Very well. Please resist the urge to blink¡­¡± Maybe ¨C maaaaaaaybe ¨C if he¡¯d been born an unconverted desert peasant of Japella, he could have gone through his pilgrimage journey with a fellow faithful convert by his side. Mayhaps, in this other world, he¡¯d be betrothed to another beautiful young village deaconess, and the pair could have mutually strengthened their faith together, kept the mission tidy and in good order, raised some orphans, passed their Brands down to their eventual offspring¡­ But that was some other life. While this latest convert stumbled about as her eye brand took hold, Calaf found himself struggling to focus on his path forward following this long journey home. Already, Calaf was headed southbound. Away from the admittedly-dashing Miss Turandot. If they were to meet again anytime soon, it was to be left up to fate.
Chapter Thirty-One: Fire In the Sky
Part II: Min-Max Crusaders
The caravan began a slow march to the edge of town, negotiating a route along the main drag that snaked in and around other faithful going every which way. Just as they neared the ¡®Welcome to Firefield¡¯ sign beckoning travelers from the south, a great static sizzle filled the air. Calaf shocked himself bumping up against a north-bound pilgrim, whose eyes were pointed skyward. Indeed, every pilgrim still marching along the route was distracted or otherwise frozen in place, looking north. For there in the sky, over the northern plateaus, arced a web of purple lightning. It fanned out from right to left ¨C roughly the northeast to southwest, so bright it replaced the early-morning sun on the other end of the horizon. So glaring was this arc bolt that all business came to a halt throughout the hustling, bustling Firefield. Everyone stopped to observe. ¡°Well hot damn,¡± mused one of the caravan-goers. ¡°Get lightning storms in Port Town sometimes. Nothing quite like that. Heard it wasn¡¯t supposed to rain up here in the desert.¡± Calaf furrowed his brow. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± And there, hanging about in the atmosphere amidst the static and a low electric whine, was some Interface text.
Spell: Thundararagara XXVI
Effect: Deals Prodigious Lightning Damage Across A 200-mile area. (INT: 75, ARC: 75)
Description: Do Not Use in Close Quarters
¡°Whew.¡± Another caravan-goer whistled. ¡°That¡¯s some kind of spell.¡± It wasn¡¯t uncommon for those Pilgrims who ventured to the hallowed stations near the end of the trail to acquire all manner of peculiar high-level gear. Legendary weapons and spells the likes of which appeared unnatural to the eyes of sheltered low-levels. A spell of that degree, though, required stats that few laypeople could ever hope to see in combination. ¡°Hey. You, there.¡± A fellow caravan guard poked at Calaf¡¯s ribs awkwardly. ¡°What¡¯s the highest-level spell you¡¯ve ever seen?¡± ¡°Mass Holy Cure VII,¡± Calaf said simply. ¡°My foster father used it as a blessing during benedictions.¡± Stat requirements¡­ INT: 70, ARC: 15. ¡°Well, until now,¡± Calaf admitted. As quickly as it appeared, the arc lightning dissipated. Always a busy city, Firefield returned to its business in no time. ¡°Everyone, continue onward,¡± said the caravan driver. ¡°Guards in front. Just sweep the path for monsters. They¡¯ll seldom attack from the open desert.¡± ¡°Okay, then,¡± Calaf said. He took a step forward. The first proper step back home.
Caravan journeys were often slow. Having to account for a dozen separate party members of various levels and walking speeds meant that they were limited by the lowest-level person¡¯s weakest Agility stat. Which is to say, progress proved glacial. By the time night fell, cooling the arid environs significantly, they¡¯d just barely rolled into the first major watering hole south of town. The dire-tarantulas swarmed shortly thereafter. Hairy, eight-legged, be-fanged creatures whose primary diet included liquified human innards.
Name: Dire-Tarantulas (x12)
Rank: Beast, Arachnid.
Level 34
Status: 69/69
Weapons: - Venomous Fangs (x2) - Webbing - Hairy Feelers
Before Calaf¡¯s surprise power-leveling spree courtesy of Jelena, even one of these things would have been a mighty foe. Now that he was not far from the coveted level 40, however, he juggled three of the skittering beasts as he held his mighty shield aloft.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Dire-Tarantula Uses: Webbing Effect: Slows target for venom injection and eventual digestion.
Resist! Calaf¡¯s Endurance was now high enough that his Effect Resistance easily shrugged off such a paltry debuff. With a mighty blow from Calaf¡¯s spear, the first tarantula was slain. On his next opening in the Interface¡¯s turn order, Calaf smashed the second tarantula with a shield bash that left it with the crippling ¡®Broken Legs¡¯ status effect. The second one limped back into the desert, while the third one foolishly tried to stomp on the Stalwart with its hairy feelers and was likewise run through with cold steel. ¡°They got one of ours! Guards, don¡¯t lose sight of that one!¡± And, not far from Calaf¡¯s position, dragging a webbed-up human-shaped figure behind a shaded dune¡­
Name: Golden Dire-Tarantula
Rank: Beast, Arachnid.
Level 38
Status: 99/99
Weapons: - Venomous Fangs (x2) - Webbing - Hairy Feelers (Gold)
With the blessing of the Ancient Hero¡¯s relic still in his inventory, Calaf rushed over, fleet of foot. He poked at the creature with his spear, bringing forth paltry damage with each stab. An aimed strike severed the webbing keeping this creature¡¯s cocooned victim tethered to the dire-tarantula¡¯s backside. This ugly, fugly spider ran off through a flash flood canal amidst the dunes, resolving to seek out less well-defended prey. ¡°Got him!¡± Calaf declared. Alas, there would be no experience gained from an enemy that slunk off. Perhaps that was why retreat was somewhat frowned upon under the Menu. A gold-hued enemy was incredibly rare, and incredibly valuable. Calaf had seen maybe three golden dire-rats in his lifetime. Rewards for successfully felling the beast would be extensive. But for now, it was not to be. ¡°Anyone still standing, get back to the watering hole. It¡¯s roll call time. Should find out who¡¯s not dead.¡± With the immediate threat of hungry dire-spiders overcome, some of the pilgrims began to set up a bonfire. Light would keep most dire-beasts at bay. Calaf used his auxiliary knife to cut the beleaguered victim out of the cocoon of webbing. It was a hapless (and now terrified) level twelve, way out of his league for this region. ¡°Worry not,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Just stick behind me. I¡¯ll shield you from anything else that may attack.¡± Calaf walked up a hill to do a quick spate of scouting. No further caravan-goers were being dragged off to the dire-tarantula nests to be implanted with eggs. Roll call should pass without a hitch. In the dying light, Calaf looked off to the east. Japella was out there, the sand-colored stone dwellings blending in perfectly with the natural colors of the desert. Still, with his enhanced perception, the Stalwart could almost make out smoke from far cook fires.
Level 40 would be a ways off. A dozen more fights like those fell spiders would put him within reach. But simply leveling up at that point was just the first step. One more level up. Then Calaf would be able to continue his class progression journey at any cathedral along the way. Each level came progressively slower from this point out. If he¡¯d been a Stalwart for most of his journey on this particularly eventful pilgrimage season, he could expect to remain the next rank, Squire, for the remainder of a decade. Calaf couldn¡¯t help but notice that he was at the higher range, level-wise, of pilgrims and guards in the convoy. There were maybe two level forty-somethings, and the median level of guards was about thirty-two. Making it past level fifty would put anyone in the top thirty percent of faithful worldwide. The number of people north of level seventy could be recorded in a modestly sized church text. Anyone north of level ninety was rare indeed, perhaps one of a few dozen per class in all of history. Low-level pilgrims, too weak for guard duty, gossiped around the campfires. ¡°I¡¯ve heard there¡¯s new baubles that can guide your stat distribution on level up,¡± said one. ¡°Oh? I¡¯ve seen one,¡± said another. ¡°They¡¯re all the rage around Deepwood. Saw a level ten with INT in the forties already.¡± No sooner did this rumor fly than did the sky lit up as a fireball streaked across the sky from the hinterlands far, far to the southwest dead ahead over the high desert. It was so fast it could be mistaken for a meteorite, but it had a terrestrial origin and was launched into the sky on some pretense. The dark of night returned as the fireball sputtered out. ¡°Why, a few levels like that and you¡¯d be able to cast all sorts of strange spells.¡± ¡°Aye,¡± said a fighter-class. ¡°Why, maybe I¡¯d even be able to cast some spells after a level or two of that.¡± Caravan drivers dumped some fresh wood onto the bonfire, sending its flames and the accompanying shadows flying out in long arcs over the desert dunes. As he stared into the fire on that last day, Calaf wondered what levels would be gained, and what adventures would be found, on the long road home.
The journey between Firefield and Port Town took three days. Two days of desert travel, with the second day at least spent in the relative comfort of a proper inn at the desert¡¯s very edge. The caravan got a modest meal of gruel and dire-chicken at the inn, rubbing shoulders with some other traders and rumormongers along the path. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m almost at-level for the region,¡± said a twenty-something Defthand, a Scout path Stalwart-equivalent. ¡°We should visit the Olde Docks. Can get some level-up material for the eventual level-up to Thie¡ªer, Scout. I mean Scout.¡± Calaf¡¯s ears perked up. Those blessed lockpicks did wonders for his eavesdropping skills. ¡°Nah. You don¡¯t want to do that yet,¡± said a higher-leveled Battlemage of some kind. ¡°Well, why not? Every Scout needs in there eventually, ya?¡± ¡°¡¯Cause, despite the name, Ye Olde Docks are stuck out in the swamp somewhere.¡± The Battlemage hunched down and whispered from here on out. ¡°Never stays in one place for long. Know what I mean?¡± ¡°Well, that just means I need to stake the place out,¡± said the Scout-aspirant. ¡°Get in and out before it wanders off again.¡± ¡°It¡¯s also home to denizens pushing level 80,¡± the Battlemage cautioned. ¡°Just because these dungeons are based in lower-level zones doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re meant to be completed while you¡¯re here. They require a dedicated team of utmost experts in their class to even get into the place.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± the Defthand¡¯s head dropped, deflated. ¡°It¡¯s a challenge for level 65 and up. Don¡¯t even try to go for it. And never alone.¡± ¡°What, you¡¯re a Battlemage, yeah? Surely you¡¯ve been to the Battletower.¡± The wizened battlemage nodded, eyes narrowing. ¡°Aye. A castle of traps and tricks. The enemies are nothing special, but I¡¯ve seen people twenty levels higher than me flung across chasms by strange spring-contraptions.¡± The Battlemage shuddered. Suddenly, Calaf had a newfound appreciation for anyone who achieved the highest ranks of any given path: Paladin, Battlemage, Cleric, Scout, even Bard, he supposed. One day Calaf would have to venture far north to Fort Duran, the holy site of the Paladin, and brave its ancient ramparts. But not this day.
The crew awoke hours early, thanks to another web of high-powered lightning arcing through the sky that gave the twilight an illusion of midday. This bolt came from further away, diminishing the static in the air. But curiously enough, it seemed to come from due west this time. Lightning would continue well past the usual sunrise, only to cut out thereabout ten in the morning. Regardless of whatever natural disasters were occurring out in the hinterlands, the third day of travel began by the Delta¡¯s riverside. The caravan boarded a riverboat and was delivered swiftly, danger-free, through Port Town¡¯s gates. Calaf exhaled. This was perhaps the one place in the world the Stalwart would rather not be. Not much should have changed in the week or two he¡¯d been away from this den of iniquity. Still, he gathered his composure and took another step into his least favorite station on the Grand Pilgrimage route.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Crusaders Call
Calaf breathed deeply. Big mistake, as he took a massive whiff of steamy, humid Port Town¡¯s dire-bovine troughs, located near the docks. Just have to get this over with, Calaf thought and then took a second step, so that both feet were once more on dry land. Well, as dry as it got in Port Town. All roads back to Riverglen ran through Port Town. But last time Calaf had narrowly escaped being literally silenced and carted off to a monastery for the rest of his days. He would prefer not to tarry here longer than necessary. Port Town¡¯s sky was a vibrant azure blue this time of year, one that mirrored the adjacent sea. That was an improvement already. Overcrowding, however, had not improved. Many more people were streaming in from the docks. Resulting unseasonable crowds mixed poorly with the stifling humidity. At any rate, Calaf searched around town for a bit. He¡¯d prefer to take his chances camping by the side of the road out in the swamp than risk staying here another night. To those ends, he endeavored to find another caravan leaving south and westward bound on short notice. Merely two steps into the market, Calaf encountered his first sales pitch: ¡°Hey, you.¡± Calaf gave no response, as he was unaware anyone was talking to him, specifically. ¡°You. Stalwart. Level thirty-nine.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Calaf looked around, eyes settling on a mid-level fellow wearing a Shifty Merchant¡¯s Cloak of Commerce +2. ¡°Yes, you! You look like a Paladin of discerning taste.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m just a Stalwart.¡± ¡°Hey, it¡¯s on the road, yeah? Where are my manners, allow me to introduce myself:¡±
Name: Honest John, Humble Merchant
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 13
Status: 24/24 (Smile Never Spreads to His Eyes)
Weapons: Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20)
A low-level along the Scout path. Awfully adept to make it this far up the route so early. This ersatz merchant wasted no time in summoning forth a modest inventory out of his cloak, hawking his wares.
Item: Miniscule Colorless Level Up Bauble (x30) (500 gold) Description: Provides fifteen experience points to a single target when used.
Item: Medium Red Level Up Bauble of Strength (x2) (1500 gold) Description: Provides fifty experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution towards Strength. Effect can stack.
Item: Medium Silver Level Up Bauble of Charisma x1 (1800 gold) Description: Provides fifty experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution towards Charisma. Effect can stack.
Item: Considerable Honeydew Level Up Bauble of Intelligence (x1) (35,000 gold) Description: Provides 200 experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution heavily towards intelligence. Effect can stack.
Item: Gargantuan Obsidian Level Up Bauble of Arcane (x2) (50,000 gold) Description: Provides 5,000 experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level up stat distribution stupendously towards Arcane. Effects can stack.
¡°What¡¯re you buyin¡¯?¡± Honest John asked expectantly. ¡°Perhaps I could interest you in some pamphlets? Or perhaps the grand manifesto of¡­¡± Any of these higher-tier baubles would push him close to level 40 alone. Everything other than strength was relatively useless to him at this range. Charisma was irrelevant until he was on the doorstep of Paladin and looking into the class¡¯s endgame party-wide buffs. The real question was, could these even work? ¡°These trinkets.¡± Calaf furrowed his brow, and the bridge of his nose angled upward. He¡¯d seen his fair share of false relics along the path, as of late. ¡°Ay, catch your eye? Perhaps this one?¡± The merchant brandished the red-hued Medium Bauble of Strength. ¡°Use ¡®em both. Next time you level up, that¡¯s a full five points into strength.¡± ¡°Five points?¡± Calaf asked, incredulous. ¡°Why, you can go from level one to thirty and never see five points in any one stat at any given level.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s two-point-five to any given stat per bauble,¡± the shifty merchant admitted. ¡°But it rounds up, yeah? Stackable. Pop thirty, and watch the stats flow. I know, for your build, stats will start coming few and far between, yes? Common problem, for a man of your level.¡± It was true. From level forty onward, stats built slower. This was compensated for with a quick boost upon swapping to a more specialized, more permanent, pre-paladin class, but individual levels would grant increasingly paltry sums. By level seventy vital statistics would be down to single stat increases, if that. But the skills of specialized classes, high-level equipment, spell repertoires, and general combat expertise compounded by that point prevent these soft caps from dulling anyone¡¯s edge.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can find you an Endurance-focused level-up bauble,¡± the merchant said, still trying for the sale. Calaf held his hands up in a crossed fashion. ¡°I think I¡¯ll manage,¡± he said and marched off. Gaming the stat system like that just didn¡¯t feel honorable to the Stalwart¡¯s chivalrous tastes.
The cathedral district was cleared out relative to how it appeared in Calaf¡¯s ill-fated first visit to Port Town. The entire corrupt establishment had picked up and fled once it was clear a church arbiter was poking around town. Someone was still working, maybe an intern replacement bishop, maybe not, but the cathedral was not currently open for reclassing. Even if Calaf wanted to stay, the inns were full-up. Some sort of mass-booking, but by who or for why the innkeeper would not say. It wasn¡¯t until reaching the port itself that the source of the crowds became apparent. Fleets of boats floated about outside of port, queued up and awaiting disembarkation. The boats were broad-bowed and wide of sail, of the kind meant to transport dire-cattle, missionaries, or perhaps inbound overseas converts in a pinch. For those ships that already docked, their passengers emerged in neat and orderly lines. It was a discipline that existed primarily among the church militant. Once Calaf checked the nearest recruiting booth, his suspicions were confirmed. ¡°Did the church decree a levy?¡± he asked. ¡°Aye,¡± said the recruiting sergeant. ¡°Heretics in the hinterlands! Got their hands on some relic or some such from Granite¡¯s Pass.¡± Calaf swallowed, then chewed on the inside of his cheek. She did say that she¡¯d pawned the Granite¡¯s Pass relics off somewhere around Deepwood¡­ ¡°Apostates used this relic to cheese the Battletower. They¡¯ve gathered all manner of odd relics and weapons and have begun an anti-clerical movement. They call themselves¡­ Cultivators.¡± ¡°Cultivators?¡± Calaf scratched his chin. ¡°Never heard of ¡®em.¡± ¡°And lucky you are!¡± A great booming cry came from a level fifty armed to the teeth across the way. This grizzled veteran approached. He was an old man with the airs and accent of a fancy highborn Highlands lad. But he wore the mix-match colorful garb that was common to seasoned Battlemages. ¡°Been harassing and wangling travelers throughout the deep woods all season. Killing any clerics and deacons they come across. Started as a small group of brigands, but now they¡¯re at a fever pitch. Beating clerics and wayward church personnel to death with their own talismans. Seen it with my own eyes, I have.¡± ¡°And you are?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Aye. Excuse me. Excuse me.¡± The old man coughed. ¡°Hard to turn on me interface when the ol¡¯ bones are creaky from all that static in the air, what with the Cultivators flinging spells about for fun and all. Here ya go:¡±
Name: Gael, Sellsword
Rank: Battlemage, Independent Contractor
Level 68
Status: 712/712 (Seasoned)
Weapons: Mage¡¯s Overlarge Melee Club (Str 35)
¡°Hail, good sir.¡± Calaf raised his hand in salute. A level 68 mercenary was a rare sight indeed. Old man Gael had likely seen more combat than the entire Riverglen guard. ¡°I haven¡¯t been in the woods much this pilgrimage season,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°Had a detour. Long story.¡± ¡°Consider yourself lucky. Travel the forests north of Deepwood ¡®bout a month back? Maybe have a Magician or two in your caravan, who need to rank up? Well, soon ye¡¯d be beset by level twelves. Though they look like easy prey, they¡¯d soon belt out spells not seen since the great battles of the Olde Heroes¡¯ age.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m suddenly glad I skipped the woods, then.¡± ¡°There is no branch of the pilgrimage route that¡¯s not at risk,¡± said the old man. ¡°Even now a conclave of cowardly confederates convenes in the highlands, plotting to enact a world where godly deacons are defenestrated from the towers of the Olde Capital, and every man reigns as king over his own Interface.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± ¡°Aye. They put out a manifesto. Mayhaps you received a ¡®System Message¡¯ at some point? Well, that was cut off at the source right quick. So they¡¯ve taken to transcribing them with some newfangled ¡®printing¡¯ item, drawing in many new adherents with the promise of unfathomable stats-based rewards.¡± Calaf gasped. ¡°Does this have anything to do with some sort of ¡®level up bauble¡¯?¡± ¡°Why, yes.¡± Gael¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Have you seen any?¡± With a nod, Calaf described his unsolicited encounter with Honest John, the humble merchant. Gael rustled up some assigned guards to run after the legitimate businessman¡¯s last known location. ¡°That¡¯s how they get you,¡± Gael said. ¡°Appeal to low-levels barely out of Riverglen. Promise to grant strength enough to dual-wield zweihanders. Then, boom! After a short season of indoctrination, suddenly promising young pilgrims are out to overthrow the church!¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± Calaf scratched his cheek-stubble. He could use another shave at some point. ¡°What will it be, brave Stalwart. Will ye answer the call, and be let loose against this heresy? To defend ye friends and loved ones against this horde of apostate fiends?¡± And there it was. Another sales pitch, albeit with a slightly different objective than Honest John¡¯s attempt at culling the gullible out of some quick gold. Calaf stopped him there. ¡°I¡¯ve been traveling the length and breadth of the pilgrimage route for some time. I¡¯ve gained more experience than ever thought possible. While I wish you well in your own heretic hunt, I simply must get back home.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± said Gael. ¡°I wish ye safe travels on your journey home. And that it still be standing when you get back.¡±
Menu-based warfare rendered standing armies logistically inefficient. Combat under the Interface tapped out at squads of five. Larger hordes than that often tripped over themselves in the Interface¡¯s turn order. So, the default squad for any larger formation still scaled off this four-to-five member ¡®Party¡¯. The Church replaced most aspects of social life that would otherwise be handled by lords and aldermen. Why bother paying fealty to secular authority assigned some holy mandate to rule, when you could just cut out the middleman and pay all tithes directly to your local Bishop? Some areas back near the Olde Capital still possessed some landed gentry. Lords and knights of a pre-Menu tradition, capable of raising levies for more traditional combat roles. Calaf wondered why these armies were not being let loose against the organized brigands that were ¡®cultivating¡¯ as the old man had called it. The realm had something of an adventurer-based economy. So when larger organized marches or the call of crusading went out from the Demon Lord¡¯s Fall, groups were hired by the party. Throngs of ¡®independent contractors¡¯, more professional sellswords, and eager converts wanting a proper wage for their pilgrimage in exchange for a bit of combat milled about, loosely organized into armies by region. Calaf passed a small contingent marching under Granite¡¯s Pass colors, having doubled back to Riverglen, cut down to a small port, and taken a boat over to the Delta. After a brief time recruiting amongst the populous river delta, the columns would be marching off to meet some regiments raised from Plains Junction before deploying into the forests. None of that was of Calaf¡¯s concern. Truly, nothing could distract him from his journey back to Riverglen, Charlotte, and home. Why, the only complication was that the war path would likely disrupt the overland path southward! With that in mind, Calaf would have to consider booking passage on a ship down to the southern ports.
Before he pursued that route, though, Calaf returned to the scene of a previous adventure. The cistern remained empty, abandoned. A hidden entrance that was at once easy to find for anyone with the most basic perception-based Interface abilities, while also being a forgotten and furtive secret for which there was little reason to ever use. Calaf explored through the hidden passageways again. All traps were sprung, and all doorways opened. Nobody had been here since he and Gerard had briefly checked in again following their fateful scrap against that hulking hired muscle from the thieves¡¯ guild. Calaf duly recalled that the city guard wouldn¡¯t even search the cistern. No doubt on the late Metzger¡¯s payroll, at the time. So, when the Stalwart reached the central water reservoir and found it entirely barren, he couldn¡¯t help but sense that something was off. Bruce was nowhere to be found. The hulking monk¡¯s corpse had been too dead to consecrate. With local authorities refusing cleanup it would¡¯ve just stayed here, festering, even poisoning the reservoir. Only, when Calaf returned he found¡­ nothing. The water was plain, shallow, but unspoiled as ever. And in place of Bruce¡¯s rotting corpse, there was only a strange golden-shaded set of vines. A yellow-tipped pine tree sapling in the middle, having grown to ankle height in the intervening weeks since that duel to the death. Vines and fair-colored moss snaked over to a nearby aqueduct, rapidly disappearing into the town¡¯s network of reservoirs and cisterns. Calaf couldn¡¯t help but get the strangest sense he was being watched. With a shudder, he rose to his feet and returned the way he came. There would be nothing left to pick through of the thieves'' guild in this hidden hideout.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Unbridled Undergrowth
Dozens, nay, hundreds of ships waited out amidst the waves at the edge of the harbor. They would be disembarking through the night. A glare from atop the old lighthouse continued to whirl about, scarcely visible in the immediate post-afternoon. But Calaf could see it whirling about up there from the dunes. This was the site of Baldr¡¯s massacre of the thieves¡¯ guild. At least the ones that hadn¡¯t left Port Town. There was something he wanted to check. Something his intuition kept telling him to investigate. Calaf entered the lighthouse. No golden barrier covered the structure this time, locking prying eyes out -- and helpless victims in. There were no living quarters within. Maintenance personnel would have taken the short walk out to visit, rewind the whirling lantern apparatus. But a thin layer of dust indicated nobody had visited the lighthouse in some time. Firstly, he tried the stairs going up. Calaf found the lighthouse beacon, which he¡¯d lit some time ago, twisting slowly, casting a beam out on a complex fire and mirror apparatus. The fire was still burning, with little evidence that anyone else had been in there. Twisted, spiraling vines ran up the lighthouse¡¯s lantern. A kudzu-like growth flooded the fire pit, filling it with excess plant growth that kept the fire going at a reasonable luminosity. And yet another set of leafy shoots wrangled the mirror and appeared to prevent the usual loss of momentum that would gradually affect a mechanism of this sort. Yes, Calaf was reasonably certain that no soul had entered this lighthouse since he¡¯d activated the beacon and promptly fled Baldr¡¯s wrath. Next, Calaf peeked downstairs, following some flowing vines that had crept up from somewhere far below. The basement, sunken deep into the lighthouse¡¯s foundations, was lightless and deathly silent. If there were still corpses down there, he certainly didn¡¯t want to trip over one. So, he grabbed a dormant torch off an interior scone and used the lighthouse beacon as a makeshift matchbox. Now with a proper torch, Calaf returned to the basement. Vines had not crept in through the door, instead emanating out from cracks in the foundation. Calaf followed the spiral staircase to the familiar basement. Tables and other aspects of the thieves¡¯ guild safehouse lay smashed apart in a dozen different ways. Maps and documents had been burnt to a crisp once the sordid affair was done. Dried blood marked the sandy ground where the church arbiter had slowly, with great revelry, torn his victims apart using only his protective barriers. Even by torchlight, the far end of the basement was not quite visible. A few scones and torches still stood here and there, extinguished shortly after the massacre. Calaf lit a few. But as he made his way counterclockwise around the room, his relic-heightened senses couldn¡¯t help but pick up something ruffling about in the darkened portion. ¡°Yhhhhr,¡± came a wet, gurgling vocal sound. ¡°You, there.¡± Calaf froze. ¡°You, there.¡± The raspy voice coughed up again. ¡°Won¡¯t you throw that torch into the fireplace?¡± A divot in the wall was just barely visible with the current lighting. Calaf angled his torch over, catching a shriveled, wriggling leg flopping about before dragging itself ¨C or being dragged ¨C back into the dark. Calaf exhaled, sharply. He set a nearby scone aflame to create a buffer of light, then chucked the torch into the divot in the wall. Piled vines curled themselves into a ball where firewood had burnt itself to ash. Just like at the lighthouse lantern, this was intelligently, calculatingly placed here to prevent this sacrificial tinder from spreading to the rest of the starchy organism. Light rapidly filled the chamber. Calaf eyed the vines as they snaked about along the floor and up the walls, coalescing in a jumbled mess opposite the stairs. As the fire caught and the glare grew brighter, this brittle, yellow-flowered vine seemed to catch the light and glow with an illumination of its own. There on the floor, pieced together haphazardly, with three legs trying to share a socket, and four and a half heads spliced here and there along a jumble of torsos, lay the remains of the various thieves¡¯ guild patsies.Stolen novel; please report.
¡°Ah, that¡¯s much better. Finally, enough light to photosynthesize from.¡± Warbled one mouth, then the other, creating an echoing groan. The creature, cobbled from corpses and roped together with vaguely autumnal plant growth, gazed upon Calaf with five glassy eyes. Though it relished light, seemingly requiring it to properly function, it situated its body in a nice shaded neutral zone, not too close, not shrouded in darkness. Many eyes reflected the firelight. ¡°Hail, young man,¡± said the entity. The entity swayed about, catching Calaf in one set of eyes or the other. ¡°That cadence. The shield and armor. That stride. Wait for a moment¡­. Yes. You¡­ I¡¯ve heard you. Seen your story from the visage of a slain dire-rat, through a dead bandit¡¯s senses along the roadside, and from the hollowed eye socket of a dire-camel outside of Firefield. Hmmm. Yes, Calaf, is it? Come, listen to my entreaty.¡± ¡°Are you a demon?¡± Calaf asked. What else could stitch corpses together so? And reanimate them in a foul act of necromancy? ¡°Oh, heavens no,¡± it said, repeating ¡°No. No!¡± in its other mouths. Interface designations popped up here and there on the beast. Identifying its host bodies, often in multiple places, as Baldr was quite messy. HP designations were in bright red at -110, -204, maxing out at negative-1,024¡­ Calaf looked away, the arrested decay of the bloated, mismatched moving corpse having inflicted a ¡®nausea¡¯ effect. ¡°Demons? Ay, do they not have those in the current day? No demon would have such a zest for life as me. Mayhaps you have even seen a demon and not realized it. They¡¯re terrible boors. More automaton than living entity, really. Demons and I do not, ah, get along.¡± The entity moved, lurching upright. Only, it couldn¡¯t self-right. Hands, legs, and one of its borrowed heads were nailed to the floor, incapable of moving. ¡°Ah, the Shackle. The Shackle.¡± The entity said. ¡°One of these I can finagle, gnaw off with enough time. But when you leave bodies here out of the crypts, everything gets jumbled up.¡± Calaf took a step back towards the stairs. His boot landed on a vine. ¡°Hey. You.¡± The entity said, talking frankly with just one mouth this time. ¡°Do you mayhaps have a knife, young man?¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± Calaf said, quietly. Even so, the entity heard him. ¡°Good. Very good. Won¡¯t you lop these brands off me?¡± the entity shifted about to allow access to the brands still visible on its various constituent parts. ¡°What¡­ are you?¡± Calaf raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re not a demon, you¡¯re¡­¡± ¡°Just a being that loves life, in all its myriad forms.¡± The creature laughed out of every available mouth. ¡°Speaking of, won¡¯t you free me from these accursed Shackles? So that I may venture out and be reacquainted with this world¡¯s myriad life?¡± Again, the entity motioned to a Menu Brand stamped onto one of its foreheads. ¡°Hmmm, right on the noggin? Well, that seems like a rare location.¡± ¡°It is,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Rare, but not unheard of as a location for a Brand.¡± ¡°Ah, well, it would be hard to Scour. Unless they take off your head.¡± The creature let out another guttural laugh. ¡°Still, that will be one less mouth by which to feed. Quite troublesome. Yes, troublesome indeed.¡± Calaf turned back to the fireplace. His torch still poked out, unburnt on one end, easily selectable. He took a lateral step in that direction. ¡°So, what is it that you¡­ do?¡± Calaf asked the entity. ¡°What do I not do?¡± the entity warbled once more. ¡°Anything you can do, really. Perhaps you wish to know what ecological niche I serve? Why, on rare occasions you lot neglect to place a corpse neatly in its crypt. These Shackles are hardly necessary, but you when so-branded, one may detect this decay as a negative amount of life essence or vigor in your Interface. Anyway, once this decay gets past a certain point, it allows for the muscles, vocal cords, neurons, and so forth to be¡­ borrowed, as the old hosts are no longer using them.¡± No response from Calaf, who took another step towards the fireplace. ¡°Do free me from these Shackles,¡± the entity said. ¡°I can hear the hustle and bustle of a town from here. I¡¯d quite like to introduce myself.¡± Now in range, Calaf selected his thrown torch and brandished it again. He raked the open flame along the vines running along the floor. Fire caught on the brittle wood, spreading quickly along the vine, burning its way back to the fire in one direction, and burning its way to the entity that it both bound in place and stitched together in another. ¡°Ah, and I was hoping to parley with a friendly face,¡± said the entity. ¡°Pity. Pity.¡± Calaf climbed the stairs in silence, not even glancing at the entity as it swiftly caught alight like arid firewood. ¡°This vessel was quite unwieldy anyway. I¡¯ve heard the drums of war from the ears of a dead dire-rabbit, being devoured by a dire-owl from the outskirts of Twelthnight. That will offer up many a host.¡± ¡°It¡¯s all just a bad dream,¡± Calaf muttered as he approached the door. ¡°Dream? A dream?¡± The creature laughed as it readjusted one of its heads so that it slumped over facing forward instead of back. ¡°My friends do not dream, alas. They¡¯re a bit too far gone.¡± The fire consumed the menagerie of mangled corpses, eliciting a laugh from its many mouths. Calaf stopped just before leaving to look downward. To confirm that the entity was fully consumed by the flames. ¡°Your foster father would be with me,¡± it said, vocal cords melting. ¡°If they hadn¡¯t interned him in the crypts...¡± The entity¡¯s dying laughs did not echo as Calaf left the cramped confines of the lighthouse. He stepped out into the dunes and kept walking. It was late afternoon, several hours still before nightfall, and just a quick jaunt back to town. Good. Good. It would remain day for some time. Calaf¡¯s previous disgust at the seedy oceanside town abated. He¡¯d be safe. Safe in the light.
Chapter Thirty-Four: Reunions and Turnabout
Burning. Burning the corpses of the unconsecrated. That was the church-approved doctrine for disposing of bodies too far gone to commend to the cathedral crypts. The mix-match entity spliced together from all the corpses Baldr had been too lazy to dispose of and too messy to leave intact had been dealt with by immolation. Went up like a torch, though the individual vines emanating from the flesh-blob proved brittle and snapped away as the ¡®core¡¯ went up in flames. Calaf shuddered, now well into the bustle of town. He¡¯d lived his most formative years amidst the Riverglen priory. He¡¯d been down into the Riverglen crypts, where everyone who died around town, where the Good Pryor Yordan could consecrate their remains, was interned. Calaf had an extensive knowledge of church teachings and, yes, he¡¯d seen his fair share of too-far-gone corpses of men and beast during this latest pilgrimage season. But he¡¯d never seen a corpse do that. Never heard any church doctrine about tangled vines of reanimated flesh, either. Even during the afternoon in this balmy, swampy abode, chills penetrated Calaf¡¯s armor. The appeal of leaving town early and camping out on the road suddenly fell off a cliff. He¡¯d be staying in a defensible, second-floor room with four solid walls and enough illumination to always cover every corner, thank you very much. To do that though, he¡¯d need an inn. And most rooms were booked up by the latest crusading call. It was while walking along the docks looking for something, anything to secure living arrangements for the night that Calaf passed a small flotilla of boats offloading mercs, adventurers, and enlisted from Riverglen. ¡°Excuse me!¡± he waved over to the nearest adventurer. ¡°What news do you have from the Riverglen cathedral?¡± Got to refocus on getting home. Anything to take his mind off that putrid flesh-golem. ¡°The cathedral? Well, under new management,¡± the adventurer said. ¡°Some crazy lady shot up the place. Old deaconess has taken over in the interim to keep the pilgrimage ceremonies going for this season.¡± ¡°Yes, I was there,¡± Calaf said with an impatient frown. ¡°Well, pretty much anyone of any rank is up here now,¡± the adventurer continued. ¡°Riverglen¡¯s camp is out past the walls. We¡¯re heading out there if you want to follow.¡± With no other leads to speak of, Calaf followed. This led them on a direct route shadowing an aqueduct until they reached a westward gate, the one Calaf used to enter Port Town during his trip north. It felt like a lifetime ago, Calaf reflected, as he emerged not into a swamp trail lined by dire-gators but into a cleared-out field. Heraldry of various sorts, mostly logos of southerly adventurer guilds, hung up and around numerous wide tents. The Church of the Menu at Riverglen tent was the largest and most central tent in the camp, its clerics working round the clock to heal conscripts and adventurers both of the various wound and communicable diseases that were inevitable when an army gathered and camped. True to his intuition, there, taking charge as the central administrative and spiritual authority, was¡­
Name: Charlotte, Deaconess
Rank: Cleric (Most Holy Church of the Menu)
Level: 48
Status: 500/500 (Pensive)
Charlotte turned, sensing someone enter the tent. Without looking up she let out a long sigh. ¡°Welcome to the Riverglen auxiliary mission. If you wish to sign up I¡¯m sure our numerous mercenary guilds or adventurers companies are still recruiting.¡± She sighed again, rubbing her eyes. ¡°If you¡¯re a cleric or other healing class, regretfully, we¡¯re only authorized to accept healers signed on with the Riverglen cathedral. You can try your hometown¡¯s regiment or wait until we get to Plains Junction.¡± Only then did Charlotte ¨C the perfect, blonde, still-very-betrothed Deaconess Charlotte, look up. Her normally radiant golden eyes were dark in the dim interior of the tent. She gasped upon seeing Calaf, and nearly dropped her clerical stave. ¡°Oh, by the Cleric¡¯s wood-carved holy text,¡± she exclaimed, mouth agape. ¡°Is it truly? Or do my eyes deceive me, misreading this Interface?¡± Calaf rushed up, avoiding the scandalous act of picking her up and hugging her only with some last-minute sensible thinking and the fact that his Interface did not have any ¡®hug¡¯ command on quick-select. Instead, they clasped hands, somewhat scandalous but understandable given the circumstances.
There was a small ration of ecclesial wine normally meant for liturgical purposes, now set aside for ¡®victory conditions.¡¯ Charlotte hazarded donating a single glass to the latest celebration. ¡°My dear,¡± she said warmly. ¡°We¡¯d lost contact with you long ago. I was so worried, but the late unpleasantness prevented me from hiring another courier.¡± Calaf took a sip of the Plain Liturgical Victory Wine (x1). ¡°I¡¯ve been north of Port Town for some time,¡± he said. ¡°I received a message from you in Firefield but that felt like ages ago.¡± ¡°Yes, my love. Did you bring those vile relic-thieving heretics to justice?¡± ¡°I, ah,¡± Calaf began. ¡°We encountered each other, and I acquired all the relics that could be accounted for. I still have the Port Town relic in my inventory, which I plan to hand into local authorities¡­ whomever that may be now.¡± Calaf explained the brunt of his first adventure through Port Town to his betrothed. He mentioned the monastic cloister, by which dissidents were branded into silence. He mentioned Metzger Cross¡¯s thieves¡¯ guild he ran on the side and the eventual flight of said guild to Firefield. She paid close attention, particularly to this last part. ¡°Oh my, well, running an enterprise on the side as an ordained Bishop is certainly a most sinful activity,¡± she said.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. What Calaf did not mention was anything about being stabbed by official Church Arbiters, or anything about Jelena. ¡°Right, and anyone who dared defy him was forced into the monastery and had an addendum to their Brand forcing them into silence forevermore!¡± Charlotte tilted her head slightly. ¡°Say, was this bishop ever apprehended?¡± ¡°He was¡­ slain,¡± Calaf deferred. ¡°Ah, well, rewarded as a two-timer deserves,¡± Charlotte said. ¡°Oh, brave Calaf. You¡¯ve surely done much good for the Church. I shall send a letter to the archbishops council about your feats as soon as this rebellion is done with. Surely, our marriage shall be done at the Riverglen Cathedral just as soon as we get back.¡± Calaf nodded eagerly. ¡°You know, when Gorman said you were headed north past Plains Junction, I was quite worried.¡± Charlotte fluttered her eyes demurely. ¡°It¡¯s said that na?ve young travelers are often¡­ led astray¡­ by the fiery passion and nubile temptations of those who dwell around Firefield. Yes, many a church-approved betrothal has been led astray by, ahem, desert fever.¡± Calaf let out a weird ¡®huh¡¯ sound from his mouth as his betrothed let a sly grin spread along her line-thin lips. ¡°W-what¡¯s ¡®desert fever¡¯?¡± he stammered. ¡°But I knew that my beloved Calaf would never be tempted by the voluptuous bodies and libertine morals of those wicked, un-Menuly Firefield ladies.¡± With a wink, Charlotte rose from her seat. ¡°Wait right here,¡± she said and disappeared around a divider meant for the modesty and privacy of bed-bound patients. There were still some other patients being tended to, and clerics doing healer work, elsewhere in the tent. Still, Charlotte¡¯s own ¡®office¡¯ here was relatively quiet in an isolated corner. A quick Menu-ly flourish appeared and swiftly disappeared behind the divider. Charlotte emerged. Her clerical robes were no different. ¡°Well, dear Calaf. Examine my equipment,¡± she said slyly. It usually wasn¡¯t polite to snoop around another¡¯s equipment or stats screen. But if his betrothed ¨C a holy woman, mind you ¨C insisted, well¡­ Calaf peered into his fianc¨¦e¡¯s equipment screen.
Item: Plain Clerical Robes Description: Plain Robes Befitting a Cleric. Nondescript, Fitting a Woman of the Cloth. Habit optional.
Weapon: Banded Clerical Stave Description: Plain Club, Doubles as a Healing Catalyst.
Item: Deaconess¡¯ Discrete Nightly Negligee. Description: Private Garments of a Church Sister. Viable, if Unadvised, for Seduction. Provides a Perfect View of the Wearer¡¯s Menu Brand Along Her Right Breast. Mildly Sinful to Even Lay Eyes On.
¡°Yes, indeed,¡± Charlotte began, posing cheekily. ¡°Do not be led astray by those unfaithful foreign women who probably don¡¯t even have their Brands applied properly. Think only of these.¡± Calaf stared at his betrothed¡¯s assets, flustered. Already, he could feel himself being weaned away from the heretical, seductive wiles of that relic-thieving harlot and back into the loving, godly influence of this pure and proper deaconess. Yes, truly this was holy, on-Menu seduction, not like that other godless apostate seduction. The Deaconess¡¯ Discrete Nightly Negligee was a bright, laundered white, of course. Custom-tailored around the dear deaconess¡¯s form and figure. Why, a part of Calaf wondered how it would look on the curvaceous, sun-kissed body of a sassy and free-spirited rogue from the deserts outside of Firefield¡­ No¡­ no, there would be none of that! There would be no Desert Fever here today. ¡°If only you¡¯d made it home a little earlier,¡± Charlotte declared, demure. ¡°Our company is full for now. But if you could march alongside us, why, I could show off the black and ruby sets around camp.¡± Calaf gasped. ¡°Deaconess Charlotte.¡± ¡°Ah, we¡¯ll be marching into danger soon, my dear,¡± the Deaconess continued. ¡°Yes, these rebellious apostates do not take kindly to innocent young deaconesses. Oh, won¡¯t you come and march with us? While the main regiment is full up, there¡¯s no doubt an opening available with the adventurer¡¯s guild or a free company. Come, my love. Won¡¯t you raise your spear against godless heresy once more? For me?¡± ¡°Well, the plan was to get home,¡± Calaf admitted. Though the plan had also been to get home to Charlotte. And here she was. Heading into danger while he was homeward-bound. ¡°About these heretics. These, what were they called, Cultivators?¡± Calaf said. ¡°I¡¯ve heard nothing about them on the road thus far.¡± ¡°Oh, they¡¯ve caused great riots and disturbances, even putting the treetop cathedral at Deepwood at risk. Yes, the tragedy at Riverglen Cathedral was a portent of a tumultuous pilgrimage season.¡± ¡°What do they believe?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Why, the manifesto was widely available before the church so swiftly clamped down upon their heathen lies. They stand against everything the martyred Pryor Yordan represented. They cast out the holy church and its agents in favor of pursuing mastery of the Interface and its System willy-nilly. Imagine that ¨C a pilgrimage without stations. Classes switched and activated without visiting holy cathedrals or shrines. Oh, it will be chaos, my dear, without a steady guiding hand¡± Calaf listened to this spiel. ¡°So they¡¯re out to overthrow the church?¡± ¡°Far worse than that, my love.¡± Charlotte¡¯s eyes twinkled slightly, catching far-off candlelight. ¡°Why, they even forsake the church¡¯s burial strictures. They want to disinter our hallowed dead from the cathedral crypts and spread them about in some common field unconsecrated. ¡®Graveyards¡¯ they call it.¡± Buried without consecration. The act sent a chill up Calaf¡¯s spine in ways all the talk of heresy up until now did not. He became acutely aware of his breathing. Warfare and heretical rebellions¡­ both would end with many deaths by necessity. Corpses, left to fester, decaying far beyond the requisite -5 HP required to arrest rot and intern the fallen in a proper crypt. And his beloved Charlotte was walking right into this. Yes, it wouldn¡¯t do to return to a home without his betrothed in it. ¡°I can go,¡± Calaf said. Hell, Deepwood is on the way home anyway. It was just one more detour. Just have to kick these Cultivators out of the Battletower. They¡¯d be back before the pilgrimage officially ended. ¡°Oh, how I wish you could march with the cathedral¡¯s main contingent.¡± Charlotte clasped hands with Calaf. ¡°Yes, if only you could be by my side. But to march further along the line, even then we may see each other once or twice during the campaign.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get a position with one of the auxiliary adventuring groups, or mercenary companies,¡± Calaf said. ¡°And I shall ensure we don¡¯t send that company as part of the most dangerous vanguard,¡± Charlotte added with a giggle. ¡°We leave first thing in the morning. If you can get a spot on one of the auxiliary companies, mayhaps we can march back to Firefield together within a fortnight, my love.¡±
Calaf¡¯s objectives now were thus: Firstly, he would have to level up exactly once to reach the coveted level 40. Companies and adventurer¡¯s guilds were arranged by level. If he could get to level 40, he could get priority positioning in a mid-range formation. Second, Calaf needed to reclass at the Port Town cathedral. His next major class change was nigh, the path that would begin to mold his stats and build on the road to Paladin. Third. While at the cathedral, Calaf needed to find someone, anyone to take the Scout¡¯s Lockpicks off his person. It was his original quest, after all. If he were captured or killed on the crusader¡¯s path, it wouldn¡¯t do to have this priceless holy relic looted right off his corpse by some feral apostate. ¡°Hey!¡± a familiar figure waved to Calaf as he left the tent. ¡°Been a while!¡± An interface menu cropped up:
Name: Gorman, Church Regular
Rank: Dualpath, The Most Holy Church of the Menu
Level: 29
Status: 59/59 (Surprised)
Weapons: Plainswood Standard-Issue Steel Spear (Str: 12, Agl: 14)
¡°Gained a few levels on the way back,¡± Gorman said. ¡°Not as many as you, it seems.¡± ¡°Hey, Gorman,¡± Calaf said. ¡°You came here too?¡± Gorman nodded. ¡°Everyone with the stat requirements to pick up a sword is being called up. Something really must have the ecclesial council spooked. Sounds like the rabble-rousers are just a bunch of up-jumped hinterlands bandits if you ask me.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Say, you looking for something? Any dire-rats need clearing out of the Port Town sewers?¡± ¡°I have to level up.¡± Calaf shook his head. ¡°Sorry, have to slay something solo. Not enough time to warrant splitting the experience in half.¡± ¡°Fair enough. See you on the trail, eh?¡± Gorman asked, surprisingly alert all things considered. With another reunion under his belt, Calaf left the camp and made for the adjacent pine woods, relatively high ground compared to the delta swamps and bayous. There¡¯d likely be a dire-hog or something similar to slay. Only a few more experience points were required. And so, Calaf went forth, spear in hand. The sun poked through a modest canopy of pine barrens. And the sounds of camp were never too far away. The road and city wall were always to his south and east. Yes, he¡¯d be safe from that tangled kudzu here, despite the overgrowth. He¡¯d be safe in the light.
Chapter Thirty-Five: Lucky Cal
The woods of the river delta were densely populated with creatures of all kinds. The recent glut of heavily armored columns marching down the roads had sent many creatures further into the brush, fleeing the din and bustle of humans. Two level thirty-something dire-hairs had netted Calaf 100 experience each. No small sum, but their corpses remained. Festering. Dire-beasts were generally not consecrated. Still, that thing left its mark on Calaf¡¯s psyche. He pulled up the system¡¯s Interface for both rabbits and ensured they were picked clean of items. There was little in the way of a corpse of either rabbit left to decay, at that point. And the resulting bounty¡­
Dire-Hare¡¯s Pelt (x2)
Dire-Rabbit¡¯s Tooth (x6)
Lucky Foot of the Dire-Rabbit (x1)
Dire-Bones (x16)
It could be crafted or traded back in town. Anything to avoid leaving a full corpse to fester. Delta plant growth was fertile, green, unlike the decaying vines that had plagued Calaf¡¯s psyche for the past half a day or so. Even so, it liked to hang down in thick, clumpy vines, constantly giving the impression that it was going to close in and ensnare his head and wrap around his neck at a moment¡¯s notice. Calaf shook his head, refocused, and continued onward. He was one good-sized fight away from level forty. But the dire-gators of the swamp were not biting at the one point in time when Calaf wanted them to. A diminutive dire-fox crossed Calaf¡¯s path¡­
Name: Dire-Fox
Rank: Beast
Level 21
Status: 17/17 (Small, Helpless)
Calaf raised his spear as the tiny thing gazed at him, curious. A single simple attack would end the creature, which was well under-leveled for the Delta. But it would leave him just a bit short of the next level, providing only a pittance of experience. Sighing, Calaf lowered his spear. It wasn¡¯t worth it. With a yip, the dire-fox jumped about three times, then retreated into the forest a ways. It yipped again, then took some steps back into view. ¡°Hmm?¡± Calaf stashed his spear behind his back and followed. Again, the dire-fox ran further into the forest, and again it stopped to ensure the Stalwart was following. Calaf followed and followed again, continuing well into the deeper parts of the forest, where the swampy environs made traversal increasingly difficult. The canopy grew thicker, as did the tree coverage on the forest floor. In time, the dire-fox reached a dead end where many thick, old-growth trees twisted together into a wall of trunks and roots. Rather than flee up or around a tree, the creature merely circled in place thrice, chasing its tail. Calaf stood back and observed. The dire-fox brushed its tail, rubbed its paw with its snout, then clicked its chops. Then, the creature lit up into a bonfire of its own. So bright was the conflagration that Calaf covered his eyes. There was certainly nothing he could do to reach into the fire and pluck the poor thing out on such short notice. The fire grew three times the size of the creature, retaining a visibly vulpine silhouette. A wide tail in the creature¡¯s back split into two separate jets of flame. Then three, then each of those split off, and a few split off again. Until in the end, as the fire subsided, an entirely new creature stood before Calaf:
Name: Dire-Fire FoxUnauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Rank: Legendary Beast, Miraculous.
Level 96
Status: 17000/17000 (Mighty, Majestic)
Calaf took a step back. He hadn¡¯t seen a creature so powerful before in his life. Nobody did. Why, to be north of level ninety-five was a feat of experience gathering some lifetimes in the making. Even the Demon King of Olde maxed out at level ninety-eight. With a vulpine howl, the creature summoned forth a smaller, standard dire-fox of level thirty or so. In that fox¡¯s mouth was a smaller prey.
Name: Lamed Dire-Pigeon
Rank: Beast.
Level 42
Status: 6/80 (Dying of Old-Age)
¡°You want me to slay it?¡± Calaf asked. No response from either fox. The lesser dire-creature merely sat the prey down and gave it a nudge. So far along was the poor bird that it barely even reacted. Calaf brought forth his spear and gave the creature a gentle stab to the vitals. A paltry hit for seven HP dropped the dying creature¡¯s hit points to minus-one. The creature had been put out of its misery. An act of mercy.
Items Obtained:
- Bird¡¯s Egg (Broken) (x1) - Bird¡¯s Feather (x2)
- Gold x 100 - Experience: 350xp
As they were at level parity, the experience rewarded was adequate, even excessive, despite being such easy prey. Calaf felt a sudden surge of power, a second wind, by now quite familiar to him. Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 40
Strength: 43 (+1)
Endurance: 61 (+1)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 21
Arcane: 9 (+1)
Luck: 33 (+2)
Yep, there were those mid-level stat doldrums. It was known to happen when you get to a certain stage. Those extra Arcane and Luck points were nice, but also a complete fluke that could not be expected to happen again. The default hero¡¯s journey from here on out was slow, with long times between levels and incremental increases even to core stats. The lesser fox took the slain bird and ran off. A good meal was an adequate tip, all things considered. ¡°Thank you.¡± Calaf bowed to the majestic beast. The fox let out¡­ whatever kind of sounds a dire-fire fox made. Then, it disappeared in a flame tornado, leaving scarcely any trace it was ever there. And there, in place of the wall of trees, was a wide-open glen amidst a group of high-and-dry wharves just sitting out on dry land¡­
It was common knowledge that the individual branches and fingers of the great river delta oft altered course. Some dried up after decades of flowing free. Many others changed course, flowed backward sometimes, or otherwise were not in the place where they once were in the days of the Olde Heroes of Yore. Port Town was not always situated at its current, specific jetty, though the lighthouse most certainly was ancient. A port had cropped up along the strongest arm of the river delta multiple times throughout history and, as the flow of the river changed, it had been invariably abandoned. This was the fifth Port Town, that church historians knew of. Back in the Olde Heroes¡¯ time, Port Town was on its third configuration. The docks from that old, pre-Interface time still existed, buried deep in the swamp, protected by the Scout¡¯s hand-built traps and tricks. It was a dungeon. One of a few by which faithful could test their combat and System mastery under the Menu against endgame threats. So hard to spot were these docks of an ancient time that rumor had it they would move unmoored from time and space, never appearing in the same spot once. This dungeon was, of course, meant for Scouts, Thieves, and other roguish, fleet-footed types. And here, it was, appearing before Calaf, level 40 Stalwart. This was a labyrinth for seasoned veterans. Experts in stealth and trap-setting. Entire parties of four to six people in their level seventies had been known to disappear in these zones, never to be heard from again. Lucky Calaf, and the other Paladin-aspirants, had to travel to Fort Duran Du Loc, well off-road in Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, towards the end of the path. By then aspirants were seasoned and better equipped to weather the trial by fire that was a knight¡¯s gauntlet of endurance tests. It would be foolish to attempt the Battletower or Olde Docks at level parity for Deepwood or Port Town, their home abodes. Nevertheless, Calaf took a step forward¡­
A quick look couldn¡¯t hurt. This first area was an empty clearing hemmed in by wharves that once stood by the riverside. Now the dry riverbed ran straight through, grasses growing at the bottom. Stranded boats sat helm-deep in silt. For a thief or scout, there would be a dozen ways up into the docks proper. But for brave Calaf, well, he found a ladder near what would be the pier master¡¯s office. Ever wary of traps, and those Scout¡¯s Lockpicks doing most of the work for the more defense-oriented Stalwart, Calaf advanced towards the first major dock. He peeked inside, finding a darkened room with light barely penetrating dust-covered glass panes. A group of six corpses, relatively recent kills, lay strewn about on the floors. They had names like Gor the Boulder Smasher, Level 75, and Swift-Footed Kyle, Level 82. All were immolated, their bodies unrecognizable amidst burning ash and soot. And judging by the fact they were still smoldering; they were all recent kills. The first sign of a whirling, bottom-heavy automaton greeted Calaf, wheeling around a far corner:
Name: Gustavo¡¯s Flamer Dire-Automaton
Rank: Automaton, Ancient Construct
Level 83
Status: 1000/1000 (Ungrounded)
Weapons: - Whirling blade saws - Flame Belcher - Protocol: Kill on Sight
Calaf turned tail and was back in the riverbed and out of the docks before the mechanical monstrosity could even register a hostile. Well, he knew where this place was now. Calaf made a point of marking where he was on his map. Or at least where he suspected he was. A slight trail of burnt underbrush marked the way back to the road. Mission accomplished, courtesy of some form of divine provenance. Calaf was running into all types, these days Must be the higher-than-average Luck stat. Now, it was time to visit the cathedral to see if he couldn¡¯t pay a visit to the shrine of the martyred Paladin. The next step on his journey towards that coveted rank.
Chapter Thirty-Six: In Which Number Goes Up
Late afternoon was upon him, and Calaf had achieved the first major hurdle of his last-minute to-do list. A slowly whirling light cut through the sky, barely visible even from the far side of town. The lighthouse was still in operation, for now. The beacon still burned. Calaf headed towards the Port Town cathedral. Den of iniquity though it was, he needed to pray to the statue of the martyred Paladin here, to advance to his next class. Port Town remained crowded with inbound crusaders. A seedy underbelly remained, but for the most part, the corruption of Bishop Cross¡¯s tenure here was swept away ¨C or at least remained buried well enough. Once more, Calaf visited the cathedral district. He walked up to the great building, one of a few structures made of heavy stone in these swampy environs. Some weeks and what felt like a lifetime ago, he¡¯d been imprisoned there in the adjacent monastic wing. Now, though, he walked through the door into a quiet hall occupied by a spattering of pilgrims hoping to venture north at this late hour, and more crusaders praying to become a hammer of faith. It was there, behind the altar, that Calaf encountered one more familiar face. Light streamed through the painted window relief of the Scout at the cathedral¡¯s back. It obscured the new interim Bishop¡¯s face. But it did not obscure the System Menu, its divine Interface visible in all lighting conditions such that it was:
Name: Deacon
Rank: Deacon, Church of the Most Holy Menu
Level: 42
Status: 87/87 (Implacable)
¡°Why, you¡¯ve nearly surpassed me, brave sir knight,¡± the kindly Deacon said. Calaf gasped. ¡°Deacon? Why, it¡¯s been so long. Last I recall you were still back in that off-System town. You know, I can¡¯t quite recall the name¡­¡± ¡°Vault, I believe,¡± said the deacon. ¡°Much has transpired since we last met.¡± The Deacon took time off his busy schedule to explain to Calaf what he¡¯d been up to in the weeks and months since they last parted ways. The pair ascended to the belfry to catch up and describe their journeys to each other. The conversion of Vault continued apace. Most of the populace now lived Under the Menu. A basic church Mission had been established, with some recently educated locals serving as Sisters and a contingent of Riverglen church personnel having relieved the lone Deacon¡­ Deacon, from his duties as the sole holy man in that homely abode. Deacon, as always, hit the road in search of his next assignment. That brought him back to Granite Pass, then north, shadowing the great pilgrimage. Along the way, he aided and proselytized amongst recent converts on the road. Deepwood was something of a signature holy site for Clerics, Deacons, and other holy men. So Deacon spent some time there, meditating on the ancient Cleric of Yore¡¯s teachings. After some days, right around when Calaf was heading through the desert to Japella, Deacon ventured through the woods towards the springs and alpine camps of Twelfthnight. It was there he¡¯d encountered his first trouble along the road, as groups of brigands were picking fights with random clergy. What¡¯s more, these honorless brigands had weaned promising, pious pilgrims off the righteous path with curios promising easy and bountiful leveling free of the random nature of the Menu. But persevere, the Deacon did. He banded together with those still faithful to party up and push to the Plains. From there he¡¯d heard tell of the sudden empty position of Bishop in need of filling in Port Town. So, he¡¯d traveled here and swiftly began cleaning up the gaping administrative and spiritual void left by the late Bishop Cross. Up in the belfry, Deacon gazed over his new area of spiritual responsibility. The cathedral towered over the squat wooden buildings of Port Town. Outside, the far lighthouse beacon continued to twist around and around. ¡°Hmm. That light,¡± said the deacon. ¡°It¡¯s dim. Turning slower.¡± Calaf cleared his throat. That could require some elaboration.
Another hour passed as Calaf tried to explain the strange entity he¡¯d encountered in the basement. The Stalwart left out any mention of how the corpses got there. Instead, he merely said that he¡¯d investigated the lighthouse following some adventurer¡¯s commission or the other. ¡°Oh my.¡± Deacon sat back and listened intently. He scratched his chin. ¡°Some sort of¡­ reanimated, unconsecrated corpse? Talking and moving like a man? Yes, that sounds fowl indeed.¡± ¡°Is there any reference to a creature like this in church scripture?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°No, definitely not,¡± Deacon spoke with the learned expertise of someone who had the holy scriptures memorized. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s so worrisome.¡± Again, in the evening near-dark, the lighthouse beacon made another painfully slow pass. ¡°I shall send some trusted guards over to the lighthouse. Give it kindling for the night, at least. And ensure there is nothing else in the basement.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Calaf said. The pair traveled down the stairs as a great bell rang from the opposite belfry. It was a summons for evening liturgy and prayers, an act Deacon would be required to officiate. ¡°Will you be staying for the evening sermon?¡± Deacon asked. ¡°I cannot.¡± Calaf shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m going to visit the shrine of the Paladin, then I need to sign up for a company headed out into the hinterlands.¡± ¡°Ah, the response to the brigands.¡± Deacon nodded sagely. ¡°There must be some greater threat under the surface to warrant a full call to crusade over every station of the pilgrimage route. Be very careful.¡± ¡°Thank you, Deacon.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Bishop Deacon, now,¡± Deacon said with a warm grin. ¡°Please, stop by the cathedral at any time.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Calaf turned back to Deacon. ¡°Before I leave. There is something I should entrust to you.¡±
CalafRoyal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡¤ Holy Lockpick of the Thief Scout (Unbreakable) To: Deacon ¡¤ None
¡°Ah, relic retrieval ¨C your original mission,¡± said Bishop Deacon. ¡°Yes, you did good, wresting this priceless artifact away from that relic thief. I shall commend this to the reliquary. Go in peace, brave Stalwart.¡± Calaf felt the Agility and related sub-stat abilities drain suddenly from his stat menu now that he no longer had access to the artifact¡¯s holy power. ¡°Thank you, Bishop,¡± said Calaf, with a respectful bow.
Crusaders, pilgrims, but surprisingly few locals stopped by the cathedral for the liturgy. Calaf, meanwhile, traveled to the eastern wing of the cathedral complex, where the church reliquary and the shrines to the four heroes were located. That quiet monastery, home to more than a few bad memories, sat in the western wing. Calaf avoided that like the dire-plague. With church in session, this wing was calm and silent. He would not be disturbed. A great vault led to the reliquary, dead center in this wing. To think, the crooked Bishop Cross had full access to these priceless holy trinkets all along. A path forked at the vault door, ending at shrines to the Scout and Battlemage to the left and right respectfully. The path then traveled around the vault and through some pensive gardens to the remaining two shrines. Calaf turned left, as the Paladin was usually on the left of most holy shrine setups. He passed the Scout, whose statue was grander than the rest courtesy of being Port Town¡¯s local hero. The shrine to the martyred Paladin beckoned. Cold, shaded in the evening light. The Paladin¡¯s visor betrayed no facial features at all, whereas all other hero¡¯s statues portrayed at least some generic visage. The Paladin¡¯s armor was all-concealing. A perfect defense, and yet he¡¯d laid his life down for his beloved Cleric. Faithful knew that this slain hero had a Brand on the left side of his neck. It was clear in church records, as well as evident on the necks of his noble descendants who still lived today. Calaf knelt. He offered up a hand towards the statue, which stared down upon him through the slitted helm. He received no response from the statue. There was no spark of divine inspiration, only cold stone. But the System stirred in the background, changing him in its myriad background Interfaces. Calaf¡¯s Menu Brand itched slightly,
Name: Calaf, Crusader
Rank: Squire
Level 40
Status: 120/120 (Conflicted but Persevering)
The power of the Paladin flowed through Calaf. His class changed from Stalwart to Squire. The ¡®midway¡¯ point reclass on the route to those hallowed final classes of Paladin, Scout, Battlemage, and Archpope (final form of Cleric) granted a slight increase to that discipline¡¯s key stats. Compensation for the leveling doldrums faithful were likely to encounter at this point. Calaf felt himself grow stronger in the following stats as well:
Strength: 46 (+3)
Endurance: 65 (+4)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 23 (+2)
Arcane: 9
Luck: 33
Yes, he felt stronger already. The Holy Menu, that most blessed System, empowered him with strength, the better to wield his spear. It granted him Endurance, the Paladin-path signature attribute, the better to tank blows, hold shields, and increase his prodigious pool of Hit Points. And it even granted a bit of Charisma. A dump stat until now, but it was useful for various buffs and even the nascent realm of spellcraft, of which Squires and above could begin to access some rudimentary healing magic. It would be the last major mass-stat increase for some time. From here on out, it was all one or two points to Endurance and a secondary stat per level. And that¡¯s if he were lucky!
The path to Paladin was well-known, memorized by every child old enough to pick up a Sharp Stick and Fake Board-Shield (Level 1, Str: 1, End:1) and partake in mock-battle in the streets. The progression was thus, after passing the requisite Initiate and Convert classes of level one:
Path of the Paladin:
Class Level Range
Shielder ~3 - ~15
Stalwart ~15- 40
Squire 40 - ~65
Errant ~65 - 75
Paladin 75+
This knightly progression path was the typical endurance-heavy, shield-based preservation class. A soldier against corruption. Ready to leap in front of party members to block blows with shields, or with their own body if necessary. There were a few pathways one could take at the lower levels; Stalwart could also head down the Battlemage route of Dualpath a little earlier. That was Gorman¡¯s road through the ranks. But with its defense-based skillset this was the primary class tree of guards and soldiers. Level forty was the hard cut-off, where the armored, walking-tank aspects of Paladin began to solidify themselves. For completion¡¯s sake, and the curious, the remaining paths were thus:
Path of the Battlemage:
Class Level Range
Fighter/Stalwart/Soothsayer ~3 - ~18
Dualpath ~18 - 40
Magician/Crimson Mage 40 - ~65
Battlemage ~65+
Trading off some major leveling milestones for the opportunity to sling a wider array of spells earlier. And for Clerics, like dear Charlotte, or at one time, Jelena.
Path of the Cleric:
Class Level Range
Healer ~3 - ~15
Soothsayer ~15 - 40
Cleric 40 - ~75
Archpope ~75
The holy Cleric had been in the Cleric class for most of her quest to dispose of the Old Demon King. She died an Archpope some decades later, but the name stuck. The Church had many such traditions like that, where a name would continue long past its relevancy.
Path of the Scout (Or Perhaps Thief):
Class Level Range
Trailblazer ~3 - ~14
Defthands ~14 - 40
Vanguard 40 - ~65
Scout ~65
Of course, there were other niche paths and builds. Bard, for one, split off somewhere along the Cleric and Battlemage paths. But these were the four paths blazed by those Ancient Heroes of Yore: Tank, Buffer and Magic-based Damage Dealer, Straight-Healer, and sneaky sub-DPS. Level 40 was a milestone for all. Hence why Calaf so desired to reach this lofty plateau. A whole new world awaited. Better armor. Basic healing. Greater combat potential. The path to Autumn¡¯s Redoubt would not be insurmountable. And the end of the road, at Paladin, while not obtainable yet, was at least visible from here. Calaf left the secluded shrines a little stronger than when he went in. The sounds of Deacon¡¯s sermon were still audible from within the church. But Calaf was already late for his appointment. He needed to find a mercenary outfit or Riverglen-affiliated adventurer¡¯s party who would still take a recruit at this late hour.
Before returning to the Riverglen camp beyond the walls to look and/or beg for a spot on the Crusaders¡¯ march, Calaf went looking for some stores. He bought up a Scroll of Basic Heal and other low-level defense-oriented spells, aiming to master them on the long march back into the deep woods. While out and about, he spied a minor altercation. A group of ruffians in the market had taken to heckling at the outskirts of the cathedral district. Devout Crusaders, mostly Stalwarts and Squires in fact, formed a wall by which to block them. ¡°You can¡¯t stop us! Higher level magecraft is now open to everyone!¡± A ruffian downed three Considerable Honeydew Level Up Baubles of Intelligence, leveling up twice to a paltry level twenty-two in the process. He then belted out a Great Fireball, a spell requiring at least fifty Intelligence ¨C far more than the average low-twenty something would ever have access to. Fire streaked along the narrow streets of Port Town, dangerously close to the wooden stores and dormitories. The fire jet flew in a long arc, nearly hitting the cathedral itself before meeting its match in a great, redstone shield of some higher-level Squire in the sixties. ¡°Push them back!¡± this shield-wielding knight ordered. Mace-wielding church militants rushed in to disperse the crowd. Those baubles¡­ Calaf thought. Why, it was almost as if¡­ But the action was over by the time Calaf could even leave the store.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Pick(ed)up (By) Group
It was late evening trending towards twilight, and Calaf had yet to find a proper southbound free company, mercenary outfit, camp following merchant¡¯s convoy, or anything of the sort. With Riverglen-related companies having recently arrived by boat, consisting of soldiers of that early region¡¯s level parity who¡¯d signed up down south, free slots in an existing formation were few and far between. Calaf ventured back to the Port Town gates, searching further afield to try and find any band of sellswords to at least travel with on the route. Oh, how he wished he could¡¯ve made it to Riverglen a few weeks ago. If it weren¡¯t for that accursed bump in the road courtesy of Bishop Cross, he probably would¡¯ve! But he would¡¯ve made it in time to at least receive the crusader¡¯s summons and travel along the eastern sea routes as part of Charlotte¡¯s company. ¡°Hey. You, there.¡± Asked a curt and direct voice. ¡°Yes, you, Squire. Level forty. Spear user.¡± ¡°Oh, me?¡± Calaf pointed awkwardly. He turned to find a level 48 Vanguard type staring him down.
Name: Mikail of Firefield
Rank: Vanguard
Level 48
Status: 76/76 (Hard to Read)
Weapons: Twin Redstone Twirling Knives (x2)
¡°I¡¯m not buying.¡± ¡°Yeah. Heading south?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± This Mikhail fellow eyed Calaf from top to bottom. ¡°You ever drop the shield and fight two-handed?¡± he asked. ¡°Once or twice.¡± Mikail nodded. ¡°You¡¯re squire class. Got any healing magic?¡± ¡°Right here.¡± Calaf presented his Scroll of Basic Heal, recently acquired via merchant. ¡°Get some party-wide defense buffs and the next tier heal on the road.¡± Mikail shrugged. ¡°Excuse me, good sir, are you hiring?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°We¡¯re in the market for a fourth guy.¡± Mikail twirled a knife around in some attempt to look intimidating. ¡°Got a Paladin already. But here¡¯s the rub: no healer. So, figured we¡¯d go for two shielder types. Have them switch out shield duty as needed, with the one not tanking blows two-handing their weapon for some extra damage and healing the main shielder when possible. If you can use that healing scroll¡­¡± ¡°Sure I can,¡± Calaf confidently declared. Calaf had never cast a spell in his life. But following his level 40 reclass he should be able to. He just needed to properly dedicate some study time to the concept. Why, if he could visit the Riverglen church¡¯s tent in the off hours Charlotte could spend many long hours educating him¡­ and maybe tell him how to cast spells in the meantime. ¡°Well, it¡¯s an unorthodox group, but we¡¯ve found our fifth member,¡± Mikail said. ¡°You¡¯ll receive your formal invitation via Interface when we return to the inn. Don¡¯t sweat it. Our group leader¡¯s got quite the shield. Shouldn¡¯t have to block more than once or twice. C¡¯mon.¡±
Calaf followed this unorthodox recruiter back to one of Port Town¡¯s many, many inns. Private outfits mostly splurged for lodging facilities while the more ¡®official¡¯ church companies camped out in the field. The inn was busy, with nine out of every ten guests at the downstairs tavern heavily armed and part of a party. ¡°Hey, boss. Got another shield unit to trade out with ya from time to time,¡± said Mikail. A Paladin in full, battle-tested armor turned. He lifted a visor, revealing a Brand on his cheekbone just below his left eye. ¡°Greetings, good sir. I am:¡±
Name: Jedd, Paladin
Rank: Paladin
Level 70
Status: 834/834 (Implacable)
Weapons: - Longsword of Duran +4 (x1) - Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 (x1)
¡°A recent squire?¡± asked Paladin Jedd. ¡°A little low level for our group.¡± ¡°You said you needed someone who could take a hit and possessed healing on the side,¡± Mikail said. ¡°I got you one.¡± Jedd unequipped his helmet, revealing a sharp, thirty-something-year-old face topped with cut-short red hair. A common configuration from the plateau and near the Olde Capital. ¡°Calaf, was it?¡± the Paladin offered a handshake. ¡°A second knight-type should work with our setup. Where are you from?¡± ¡°Riverglen,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Ah, guess my Interface doesn¡¯t properly show that anymore¡­¡± ¡°Okay, we¡¯re heading out at first light tomorrow, so we¡¯ll keep this short. The independent companies will be running out in front to serve as a vanguard. Scouting the paths ahead, especially in the delta, and linking up with some companies being raised in Plains Junction. We will not be engaging apostate forces all by ourselves. We will wait for the primary army to pull up and disperse them before proceeding to the Battletower.¡± ¡°The Battletower?¡± Calaf tilted his head. ¡°Hey, brother! Have you found a fifth member?¡± asked a voice coming in fast from the door. Calaf turned and discovered a young woman no older than age twenty and thereabout level 64.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Oh, hello,¡± said the woman. ¡°Greetings. Here¡¯s my Menu:¡±
Name: Karol of the Olde Capital
Rank: Crimson Mage
Level 64
Status: 256/256 (Amicable)
Weapons: - Quilfeather Rapier +3 (x1) - Auxillary Quilfeather Dagger (x1)
¡°Hello there,¡± Calaf said. ¡°So, I see you¡¯ve met Mikail and my brother already,¡± said the Crimson Mage with a smile. ¡°As Jedd may have implied, we¡¯re going to stop by the Battletower after these rabble-rousers are dispersed. That way I can collect the material I need to finally become a Battlemage proper!¡± Such a high level at such a young age! Suddenly Calaf found himself feeling unchivalrously jealous. ¡°Are you all from the Olde Capital?¡± he asked. ¡°Yep. Bet you noticed our level, yeah? Gotta be strong to hack it up there.¡± Karol mimed a bicep pump as she punctuated her sentence. ¡°We send our youth down closer to Riverglen to serve as wards, to gain a few starting levels,¡± Jedd said more humorlessly. ¡°Here, have a beer!¡± Karol said, and promptly ordered a Frothy Mug of Ale (x2), then traded one over to Calaf. Humbly accepting the drink, Calaf took a small sip. He then found Karol¡¯s arm bear-hugging him from his right side. ¡°So, Jedd¡¯s our Paladin. He¡¯ll take most blows. Just keep him above fifty percent HP and take over if he gets near that. Mikail¡¯s goanna be a Scout one day. Just try to line any foes up so he¡¯s behind ¡®em, he gets a damage multiplier!¡± ¡°Ah, I see, I see,¡± Calaf managed, being shaken side to side. ¡°May I ask what¡¯s the reason why this position was open so suddenly?¡± Karol stopped all of a sudden. She frowned. ¡°Hmmm. Our healer ran off. Can¡¯t find hide nor hair of them. Hope they didn¡¯t get lost on the road.¡± ¡°Not like Isen to go AWOL,¡± Mikail mused. The mood soured. Just then, the final member of the party walked into the bar. Immediately, Karol began to shake Calaf about once more. ¡°So, I¡¯ve got the buffs and can blind ¡®em with debuffs. This guy here will be doing most of our magical damage though. C¡¯mon over!¡± There, walking over with broad strides from the inn door, wearing mismatched sets of several different types of armor, was:
Name: Gael, Sellsword
Rank: Battlemage, Independent Contractor
Level 68
Status: 712/712 (Seasoned)
Weapons: Mage¡¯s Overlarge Melee Club (Str 35)
¡°Aye, laddie. Decided to join up thanks to a pretty face? Was mine not fetching enough?¡± The old battlemage flashed a toothy grin.
Calaf slept in the inn, with four walls surrounding him and a roof over his head. Just like he¡¯d promised himself. On the morrow, a party of five: Jedd, Karol, Gael, Mikail, and lastly Calaf, set forth from this nondescript Port Town inn. They walked fast, passing the Riverglen and Firefield contingents still packing up their tents for the long, long march ahead. Gorman caught him and waved to Calaf on the road from his post. Calaf waved back. Alas, he was unable to stop by to see Charlotte. The party cut through the swamp in quick order and were suddenly well out of sight of any allies. ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give for a dire-horse,¡± Gael grumbled after a time. On they went, on a swift path roughly shadowing the route Calaf had taken with Issac and Jorge¡¯s party during his initial visit to the Delta. Unlike that starter pickup group, however, this endgame party moved fast. Dire-cassowaries, blood of their victims covering their beaks, fled off the path rather than face Jedd and company. And so, within a day they were moving swiftly up out of the lowland swamps and into the higher, dryer plains. With favorable terrain under their belt, they picked up the pace even more. Calaf was left jogging in the back as the four seasoned adventurers continued ahead at a steady, consistent power-walk. Plains Junction appeared in the distance, its lights visible by that first evening. They camped out, still well ahead of the main army, and ready to move again at the same pace first thing in the morning. Calaf took the opportunity to consult his Scroll of Basic Heal. This was meant to impart the ability to teach the basic healing spell. He selected and used it, and¡­ Nothing. Calaf held his hands out in front of the campfire, trying to summon forth the holy power of restoration. ¡°Having trouble?¡± Karol asked. ¡°I¡¯m something of a spellcaster myself.¡± The mage sat down next to Calaf. ¡°Oh, you know, just, trying to use it.¡± ¡°Heh, first time? So, just select it and use it first. That should impart the knowledge into you.¡± Calaf did so. ¡°I don¡¯t feel any different,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Look, there¡¯s no special trick to it. Just¡­ look, every spell is a transcript of a prayer or liturgy from before the Heroes of Yore. Just¡­ say the verse listed on the scroll.¡± Once more, Calaf ventured into his Interface and checked the scroll¡­
Item: Scroll of Basic Heal Description: Heals Five Hit Points on Any Target. Ineffective If Target Is Already Slain. ¡°I shall be here for you when you return.¡±
Huh. Odd thing to say. Nevertheless, Calaf whispered this sentence out in one breath.
Calaf Uses:
Spell: Basic Heal
Effect: Heals Five Hit Points on Any Target.
Description: ¡°I shall be here for you when you return.¡±
No further effects happened, as nobody in Calaf¡¯s eyeshot happened to be injured. But still, a whopping five hit points could be recovered, if Jedd stubbed his toe or something. Other, stronger healing would be necessary in Plains Junction. ¡°There you go!¡± Karol summoned forth some basic fireballs to deal some paltry scratch damage for him to practice healing. ¡°There¡¯s no trick to it. No mana either. Just a matter of lung capacity.¡± ¡°I see.¡± ¡°Oh, my brother says that it''s your responsibility to prevent me from getting hurt,¡± the mage said. ¡°So, when you¡¯re not stabbing things or subbing out for Jedd on tank duty, stick near me, m¡¯kay?¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Okay. Thanks.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it ¡®round here. We¡¯re all well above the level range of any normal creature here.¡± Karol nodded. ¡°Just keep it in mind once we¡¯re in the woods. And oh yeah¡­ might want to find some more spells in the Junction.¡±
Plains Junction remained visible as soon as they headed out in the morning and continued to slowly, slowly advance into the foreground as they jogged. ¡°So, Good Sir Gael,¡± Calaf asked after a time. ¡°You say you¡¯ve been to the Battletower before?¡± ¡°Aye,¡± said the seasoned Battlemage. ¡°Many a time. Scaled to the top of the tallest tower, climbed over the ramparts made of obsidian stardust, and plucked the Fell Telemetry Lens of Caerbalast out of very eye of an Astral Auroscope. That¡¯s the material required to complete the rank up to Battlemage, eh? The very same that the lassie there will be acquiring once she makes the climb.¡± ¡°Is there any loot in the Battletower for an aspiring Paladin?¡± Calaf asked. The old man shrugged. ¡°Eh, a few good shields, I suppose. Most of the armor will prove too light to your liking.¡±
Later on, with Plains Junction still looming ever-so slightly closer in the distance, Calaf polled Mikail. ¡°So, we¡¯re going to be in the vanguard?¡± the Squire asked mid-stride. Mikail only nodded. ¡°You¡¯re on the Scout path, yes?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Vanguard is my middle name,¡± Mikail said simply.
Another day¡¯s swift march brought them into Plains Junction. The trading city was largely unchanged since Calaf had wandered through last. Everything was quieter here, with the end of the pilgrimage season and the disruption to travel south into the woods thanks to these strange and mysterious Cultivators. ¡°We shall tarry only an hour to resupply,¡± Jedd said. ¡°Meet back at the central cathedral square in forty-five minutes.¡± The party dispersed, temporarily. Calaf first visited a general store stall along the main drag to refill his rations. Then, he visited a more specialized store to check out their scrolls. A bored looking merchant ¨C likely just a wage employee ¨C offered the Squire some class-appropriate scrolls:
Item: Scroll of Intermediate Heal (x1) 500g Description: Provides 25 Points of Healing to an Injured Target.
Tome of Tautalogical Defense (x1) 750g Description: Provides a Party-Wide Buff Equal to 25% of Caster¡¯s Defense
Scroll of Purification (x1) 20g Description: Dispells Poison and Other Damage Over Time Debuffs.
Calaf had barely spent a single gold since heading forth from Firefield, flush with cash. He purchased them all with no major hit to his coffers. Now that he knew how to use the things, Calaf read them all, then suddenly had four spells in his repertoire. The new spells were: Intermediate Heal, a straight up-grade to the paltry basic heal. Incantation was a bit of a tongue-twister though. Tautological Defense. A spell custom-built for Paladins and Paladin-adjacent paths. It allowed Calaf to put that heavy armor to good use. Purification. It healed poison. Now properly equipped as a Squire, with shield and restoration magic in accord, Calaf returned to the square.
¡°Calaf of Riverglen?¡± A robed courier snuck up from behind. He greeted Calaf at the edge of the cathedral square, before the rest of the party managed to meet up. ¡°It is I,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Message for you, sir.¡± The courier traded a letter to the squire:
Item: Proper Letter from a Mysterious Woman Description: A Hand-Written Letter On Desert Papyrus. Written By A Certain Mysterious Someone. Whoever could it be? Sealed with a Strange Purple Flourish.
¡°Thanks,¡± Calaf said, and lent the courier a 10 gold tip. Whoever could it be from? Calaf had an idea. And the thought gave him some level of trepidation as he selected the Item, slid his hand over to ¡°Read¡± and selected the option¡­
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Proper Letter From A Strange Woman
Item: Proper Letter from a Mysterious Woman Description: A Hand-Written Letter On Desert Papyrus. Written By A Certain Mysterious Someone. Whoever could it be? Sealed with a Strange Purple Flourish.
The letter¡¯s coarse papyrus was curled up like a scroll. Its ink seal accompanied by a purple insignia of some kind. It looked like¡­ ¡°Is that lipstick?¡± Calaf asked. His nose wrinkled. He had a sneaking suspicion of who the sender could be. Calaf selected the Proper Letter from a Mysterious Woman. He chose ¡®Read¡¯ in his interface.
Dearest, Dutiful Pursuer, I hope this letter finds you well. Still thinking of me? Thanks so much for visiting me back home. I almost didn¡¯t expect you to dare try to follow after I nicked those lockpicks. But a brave, upstanding knight such as yourself just has to pursue a relic thief of my caliber. It¡¯s just how the game is played. So, you¡¯re probably headed back towards Riverglen by now. You¡¯ve likely also by now run into some roadblocks on the way south. Remember some of those relics I hawked before our fateful encounter in the bath back at Twelfthnight? As it turns out I handed those over to some wandering trinket merchants, who then handed them off to some wilderness aesthetic who promptly started using their level-spoofing powers to infiltrate the area around the Battletower, raid it for priceless ancient baubles, and start a cult! So, my vile, outlaw relic-thieving actions may still be causing problems for you yet. Whoops. Good luck with all that. I¡¯m just writing to ensure all this doesn¡¯t take you by surprise. And to tell you to be careful on the road down there. Maybe you¡¯ve left an impression on me during our cat-and-mouse chase? Do be careful on the road home. Word around the watering holes, though, says this new hinterland cult has been in communication with somebody much further up the pilgrimage line. Whatever troop movements you have down there, the scale¡¯s so much higher thereabouts Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. Enkidu and I are heading out to give it a look-see. There¡¯s talk of skirmishes near Fort Duran. And where there¡¯s dungeon-crawling, there¡¯s loot. Sincerely Yours, Jelena Turandot
Calaf folded the letter back up and weighed it in his hand, debating wether to summon up his Interface. Whatever was she thinking, sending him a message like this? Some kind of roundabout apology for yet more trouble for him on the road? ¡°That from a girlfriend?¡± A familiar red-headed figure in flashy mage robes asked from behind. ¡°What?¡± Calaf stumbled forward. ¡°No. Of course not!¡± ¡°It¡¯s just, I saw it was sealed with a kiss and all.¡± Karol pointed at the letter. Oh, it¡¯s just a letter from the woman who murdered my foster-father, and who I then flirt-fought with the length and breadth of the Firefield desert! Yes, that would be the perfect angle to describe this interpersonal relationship. Calaf should lead with that. ¡°It¡¯s from a stalker.¡± With beat-red cheeks, Calaf whisked the letter into his inventory with a swishing motion. ¡°A letter from a stalker. One you¡¯re saving rather than throwing away, despite the ¡®trash¡¯ option being just two rows down in the System?¡± Karol asked. ¡°I¡¯m a kleptomaniac.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Karol raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°¡­ got a girlfriend?¡± ¡°I¡¯m betrothed,¡± Calaf said in a huff. ¡°To an upstanding and holy deaconess from Riverglen. If you must know.¡± Karol giggled. ¡°Is that so?¡± Was that a whiff of disappointment Calaf sensed? ¡°W-why are you asking?¡± ¡°Oh, just thinking of some way to make my brother mad,¡± she said. ¡°Nothing major. Though, if you want to play along, feel free to hold my hand as we walk back up to Jedd.¡± Calaf¡¯s hands shot down to his side. ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡±
The party reconvened within the hour, as Paladin Jedd had instructed. ¡°Is everyone full on supplies?¡± Jedd asked. ¡°Aye,¡± bellowed Gael. ¡°Sure thing, brother,¡± said Karol. Mikail nodded enigmatically. Calaf nodded, trying to look enigmatic but mostly looking awkward. Jedd donned his helmet. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ve heard word that the Plains Junction¡¯s marshalled scouting companies have already ventured into the hills north of Twelfthnight. We should still be some days ahead of the regular army. Keep a swift pace, and we¡¯ll see the Battletower this time tomorrow. Now, fly.¡±
Far north, where scorching desert sands tapered out amidst an uplifting of brown and red-hued rocks that towered into the northern horizon.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Ah, making papyrus by hand is such a pain,¡± Jelena said, nursing the continent¡¯s worst hand cramp. ¡°It was so much easier when I had access to a crafting interface. Chalk one up to the System brands, eh?¡± Four paces ahead, Enkidu stood where the sands ended and rocky highlands began. The long-haired mountain man looked north, arms crossed and brooding. ¡°What¡¯cha thinking about?¡± Enkidu grumbled. ¡°Sounds, Autumnsteel on Highlands Banded Steel Mail. Adventurers in at-level gear versus regular army. A mile and a half off the trail to the northeast.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Jelena tilted her head. ¡°I don¡¯t hear a thing.¡± ¡°There¡¯s the smell of blood. Distinct lack of acerbic acid in the scent. Evidence of poor diet. Freelance adventurers probably on the losing end of things.¡± Ol¡¯ Enkidu¡¯s senses were always at the absolute limit of human capability. ¡°Well. Wonder who is on whose side.¡± Enkidu opened his mouth to answer that with some prodigious sensory skill or another. But Jelena stopped him. ¡°Make it a surprise. It¡¯ll just be a moment.¡± A set of trees awash in all the reds, oranges, and yellows of an autumnal forest stood some half a mile out. The wind rustled the leaves, with a sound of combat wafting into Jelena¡¯s more reasonably-calibrated ears. ¡°Ah, there we go,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s roll, Oldster.¡± The pair leapt over to the highland rocks and rapidly took off at a sprint, heading north and east uphill into the highlands. ¡°Another nickname¡­¡± Jelena looked over at her partner in crime. ¡°Hmmm? What about it?¡± ¡°It has the opposite meaning of the last.¡± ¡°That it does, Big Man.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like either of those¡­¡± Jelena laughed as they picked up the pace.
South of Plains Junction, where the high and arid plains gave way to slightly less arid foothills, resident Vanguard Mikail was doing his party-role based duties to trace a path through scarcely-charted territories. They were well north of the footpath to Twelfthnight, ground Calaf had tread alongside Gorman previously. With no proper road to speak of and the terrain no longer flat as a Delta-grown wheat pancake, the going grew ever rougher. ¡°So much easier to run on level ground.¡± Calaf huffed in his full armor. Mikail was in the lead by some fifty paces. Jedd sprinted effortlessly at the head of the main group in full Paladin armor, a testament to his endurance stat. His sister came in third, having a much easier time of it with her mage robes. And the old man Gael came in after that, hobbling between his mismatched armor and a bout of the Arthritis debuff. Calaf came in dead last. The party crested the next hill, forcing Calaf to run ever faster to catch up. What he found in the next dip between jagged foothills, however, was that the party had come to a stop. Mikail had found something beside a narrow watering hole. He advanced at a crouch, the rest of the party waiting behind the cover of a nearby boulder to back him up if necessary. After much huffing and puffing, Calaf caught up. He assumed a crouching position behind Karol. ¡°What is it?¡± Karol didn¡¯t turn, distracted. ¡°Why would they leave so many here? Not even buried or burning?¡± she muttered to herself. With no answer received, Calaf peeked over the boulder. What he found, tossed haphazardly near the mouth of a natural spring, were three corpses:
Name: Audrey of Plains Junction
Rank: Wayfarer
Level 28
Status: -189/87 (Deceased)
Name: Norman of Plains Junction
Rank: Stalwart
Level 33
Status: -89/110 (Deceased)
Name: Lorian of Plains Junction
Rank: Soothsayer
Level 27
Status: -300/45 (Deceased)
¡°All from the same party. One of the Junction vans,¡± Mikail reported. ¡°Killed some days ago. Left to rot here.¡± At Jedd¡¯s signal, the entire group advanced to join Mikail. ¡°Looted clean, too,¡± the Vanguard said. Furtive, golden yellow vine shooters crept out from underneath the trio of cadavers. They wound towards, and eventually into, the watering hole. ¡°Killed to leave a warning?¡± Jedd exhaled sharply beneath his helmet. ¡°Unlikely. Too secluded.¡± ¡°Left to spoil the water,¡± Gael said. ¡°Poison the wells to keep advancing armies from usin¡¯ them, aye?¡± Calaf crawl-walked to the front of the pack, near the bodies. ¡°Whatever the reason, they¡¯ve been left here for a while¡­¡± he mentioned. ¡°They¡¯ve long-since rotted.¡± The visages of the hapless trio were sunken-in, eyes plucked out by some dire-bird or another. Their mouths were agape, very much looking like they were smiling at the party. Hit points indicated prodigious decay. The bodies were spoiled, well beyond the ability to consecrate them. ¡°We should burn the bodies,¡± Calaf added. ¡°It¡¯s church protocol.¡± ¡­ and the strange feeling vines grasping for the water gave Calaf pause, went unsaid. ¡°And give away our position?¡± Mikail asked with a scowl. ¡°The killers are probably within earshot of us. It¡¯s dangerous to even be having this conversation!¡± ¡°No, we should incinerate them.¡± Jedd¡¯s helmet shook as he nodded his head. ¡°It¡¯s imperative. We¡¯ll have Gael use an internal combustion spell, should smolder them well enough as we get out of range.¡± ¡°Aye, just say the word. Alight they¡¯ll go,¡± the old man grumbled with a quiet professionalism. ¡°Hey, Jay-Jay.¡± Now Karol came crouch-walking over to her brother. ¡°Why¡¯re we burning these guys. They¡¯re dead. If you want to put their souls to rest, get a priest or something. Ah, if only Isen were here.¡± ¡°You see things, if you run the pilgrimage route long enough,¡± Jedd said softly. ¡°They¡¯re already so far gone. Just¡­ get rid of them.¡± Calaf looked at the corpse pile with a forlorn, pensive look on his face. Jedd¡¯s helm shook as he moved his head to look upon the lower leveled Squire. ¡°Have you seen it too?¡± There was a pointed sharpness like an unsheathed sword to Jedd¡¯s question. It was a question that would go forever unanswered, as Mikail swiftly rose to a standing position and brandished his twin knives. ¡°Eyes up.¡± Figures emerged from the hills to their north and west. ¡°Low levels. We¡¯ll cut right through them,¡± Mikail added. ¡°We can break for the east to meet them on more favorable ground.¡± Gael prepped his massive club. ¡°More lambs for the slaughter!¡± came a booming voice, distressingly, from the south. A man in haughty and well-kept traveling shopkeep gear approached at a lolling pace. It was:
Name: Honest John, Humble Merchant
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 13
Status: 24/24 (Smile Never Spreads to His Eyes)
Weapons: Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20)
¡°Ah, it¡¯s dangerous out in the hinterlands these days,¡± said the not-so-honest merchant. ¡°People are like to disappear.¡± Calaf pulled up his shield to better guard their rear and flanks. He looked at the merchant. ¡°You¡­¡± ¡°Ah, you could¡¯ve been on the side that walks out of here alive.¡± Honest John¡¯s smile grew wider and less authentic. ¡°We have so few north of level thirty in our ranks. They¡¯re too invested in the System, yes? But after popping a few Baubles one of your mettle would have the strength of a church arbiter.¡± As he talked, the numerous other level ten and twelves with paltry adventurer gear advanced. They should be easy prey given the level delta. And yet¡­ One of those feeler vines emanating from the corpses wrapped around Calaf¡¯s armored boot. He looked down, kicked it off. ¡°¡­ Gael. Got any fire spells that shoot up a lot of smoke?¡± he whispered to the Battlemage. ¡°Aye, lad. Greater Conflagration.¡± ¡°Burn the corpses. The flame will cause a distraction, and we can strike out of the smoke.¡± The old sellsword nodded, glint in his eyes. ¡°Like the way you think, lad!¡± A spark emerged from Gael¡¯s battle gloves:
Gael Uses:
Spell: Greater Conflagration
Effect: Immediately Combusts a Corpse or Other Flammable Material into a Pillar of Fire. Cremates targets. Does Modest Fire Damage to Living Targets in Range. Forty-five Percent Base Chance to Inflict Burn On Living Targets.
Description: Ancient Cleansing Flame. Used for Cremation Ceremonies in the Days of Yore. ¡°Oh Profaned Demon¡¯s Flame, We Beseech Thee, Cleanse This Infestation!¡±
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Cultivated Conflagration
Greater Conflagration set the three bodies of the massacred Plains Junction vanguard alight. Their Brands were fried to charcoal, causing their Systems Interface to phase out in an instant. A pillar of smoke and the acrid smell of burning rot filled the shallow valley they found themselves in. A white-hot fire pillar shot up as well, inflicting Blind status on their various attackers. Mikail ran off to the east, attempting to secure their escape. Karol and Calaf took off next, while Gael stayed behind to mallet-bash the first hapless level eight type who dared jump into the fray while Jedd provided a shield for him. Retreat was, in turn, stymied. Mikail leaped back well before the rest of them sensed anything. Karol held a hand out to slow Calaf, and just barely wound up avoiding a searing purple lightning arc.
Ito the Aspiring Cultivator Uses:
Spell: Fell Arc Lightning VII
Effect: Throws a Mighty Leapfrogging Arc Lightning Bolt in a Straight Line Until It Hits A Solid Vertical Surface.
Description: Fell lightning of Ben the Battlemage. Both cultivated by his hand and the cause of his demise. ¡°Go on then oh mighty gods. You wouldn¡¯t dare strike me down on this metal boat while I carry a metal rod during this thunderstorm!¡±
Purple lightning bounced up in an arc and fell back to the ground again¡­ and again, and again. It missed the party handily and kept going, over a hill and off somewhere far to the north-northeast. ¡°That was close.¡± Mikail turned to the caster, Ito the Aspiring Cultivator. ¡°You¡¯re level ten.¡± the Vanguard spat and pointed a dagger at the foe. ¡°How the hell did you cast that.¡± Indeed, their foe here was:
Name: Ito the Aspiring Cultivator
Rank: Soothsayer
Level: 10
Status: 20/20
Weapons: - Basic Caster¡¯s Staff (x1) - Plain Pilgrim¡¯s Robes
Ito flashed a toothy grin and began another incantation. More lightning. Mikail easily dodged. ¡°Hey there.¡± Honest John approached, stabbing knife in hand. Calaf held his shield out as Honest John lunged. The shield blocked the knife handily, and yet¡­
Name: Calaf, Crusader
Rank: Squire
Level 40
Status: 118/120 (Conflicted but Persevering)
Another blow brought him down to 116, then a surprise crit down to 112! ¡°How are you getting through?¡± Calaf said, his shield holding firm. ¡°This has a one hundred percent physical defense rating!¡± Honest John brandished his needle-like knife. It has some kind of piercing property, Calaf thought. One that ignores the usual properties of defense and armor. Calaf wasn¡¯t being ¡®hurt¡¯ in the physical sense, and yet he was still taking damage according to the System. Meanwhile, just to Calaf¡¯s left...
Ito the Aspiring Cultivator Uses:
Spell: Great Snaking Firewhip
Effect: Flings a Mighty Whip of Flame at your foes.
Description: Lost fire magic of the Battlemages of the Battletower. ¡°Rather than just throwing a fireball you hold on to the end and swing it around, see?¡±
¡°Impossible, that requires an Arcane stat of fifty!¡± Mikail said, incredulous. Nevertheless, this lowly Soothsayer summoned forth a long whisp of flame from his hands. He wound it up and swung it much like a whip. The fire twisted and moved in a beautiful but deadly conflagration, directly toward Karol. Their junior mage held a hand up, lacking the Agility or Endurance to either escape or tank the blow. Calaf was too far away to lend his shield ¨C oh, how he missed the bonus effects of the Scout¡¯s Holy Lockpicks. Just then, a high-level blur kicked up dust as mighty mail boots kicked up dirt and rocks. The flame whip hit a solid block of red-hued metallic stone. Fire hissed but did not burn, fizzling out once its slender whip crack was extinguished. An Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 stood strong, entirely stultifying this high-level fire magic. Jedd, Paladin extraordinaire, stood, entire body in front of Karol, and his rectangular high-tier shield fully covering him from the front.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Gael leaped in from the wings, smashing Ito the Aspiring Cultivator with his mace. The damage was immediate and catastrophic, the lowly level 10 receiving a whopping fifty points of damage, utterly gibbing him. A shield bash at least forced Honest John back. Calaf used the gap to apply a Basic Heal, mostly restoring his paltry scratch damage. ¡°They¡¯ve found some way to access high-tier spells before their first-class change,¡± Gael said. ¡°But they don¡¯t have the endurance or stamina to stand in a straight fight. Just hit them once and they¡¯ll drop like a rock.¡± Calaf leveled his spear at Honest John, who wisely jumped back and let two other level eights attack from the side. The Squire could only block one. The decision was made for him, as the bandit to his left was shredded by a gust of wind. Karol had swept in with her own mage¡¯s magical offensive. Calaf blocked another stabbing knife, then countered with his spear, goring the attacker¡¯s paltry 15 HP away. ¡°Alright,¡± Calaf declared. ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± Another dozen attackers appeared over the next hill.
Name: Norm
Rank: Fighter
Level: 13
Status: 9000/9000 (He¡¯s a Big Guy¡­)
Weapons: - Basic Club - Basic Armor
¡°How did that guy get so much HP?¡± Karol asked. Norm hoisted up an item:
Item: Medium Amber Level Up Bauble of Endurance x1 Description: Provides fifty experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution towards Endurance. Effect can stack.
The bauble disintegrated with a yellow-hued flourish.
Norm Leveled Up! Level: 14
Strength: 21 (+8)
Endurance: 89 (+15)
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 8
Charisma: 6
Arcane: 4
Luck: 4
Sweet min-maxing Battlemage of Yore! That was a great deal of Endurance. Norm had clearly downed more than a few Level Up Baubles of Strength and Endurance. The compounding nature of Endurance on the obtuse hit point formulas gave him another boost:
Name: Norm
Rank: Fighter
Level: 14
Status: 9324/9324 (¡­ For You)
Weapons: - Basic Club - Basic Armor
The other stats were nothing to write home about. But with such a gargantuan HP pool they were hardly necessary. Why, his Basic Club would struggle to so much as scuff Mikail¡¯s scout duster, but that was not his purpose anyway. Norm here was just meant to serve as a human battering ram while the other, more magic-oriented foes conjured up their high-tier spells to cook Calaf¡¯s party from all sides. Paladin Jedd took the lead, while Gael and Mikail stood at his flanks. Karol kept back and ste forth a damage buff, setting her party¡¯s blade tips and club mallet-heads aflame with a subtle fire-damage enhancement. Calaf kept his shield up to protect against wayward spells. The tip of his spear glowed red-hot. ¡°You could drop your weapons and surrender,¡± said Honest John from a properly safe distance, out of spell-chucking range. ¡°We could always use hostages.¡± Another two-dozen level 10-12s with mismatched stats emerged from over a hill to the north.
What a crock this scouting expedition had turned out to be. Their paltry five-man party had run into an entire enemy army. Though they shambled about with no real organization or even party structure, these dozens upon dozens of low-level Cultivators, or whatever they were called, were each a powerhouse to themselves. Calaf poked at Norm. With his minimal armor, each hit did prodigious damage. Damage that was immediately dwarfed by his gargantuan health pool.
Name: Norm
Status: 9106/9324 (Tanktacular)
And that was with the fire enhancements. ¡°Aye, why won¡¯t you die already?¡± Gael said, lifting his hammer for another blow. ¡°I¡¯ve actually fought someone like this once,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Sneak attacks might be effective.¡± But Mikail could not rush behind the designated Tank because of other over-tuned spellcasters lobbing fireballs at the flanks. Jedd¡¯s mighty shield blocked all fire-related damage, leaving flames to lick at his equally flame retardant Banded Boots of Fireproofing. ¡°These aren¡¯t even the more experienced troops,¡± Honest John said. ¡°I¡¯ve had people out here abusing these baubles from level five into the twenties. By level twenty-six you can start casting spells otherwise unavailable until the seventies.¡± ¡°You¡¯re gaming the System with heretical level-defying techniques,¡± Jedd said. From Honest John¡¯s vantage point, he could look down into the narrow valley as more and more individual Cultivators streamed in from the hinterlands. ¡°That¡¯s a matter of perspective,¡± said the shifty merchant. ¡°They¡¯re perfectly legitimate items. If anything, it just proves that the Church¡¯s designated progression path is subjective. But one path of many.¡± The Paladin and Squire both stabbed Norm, shaving another 250 HP off. ¡°Ahaha. Clear out!¡± Gael hobbled forward, rushing as fast as his old man knees could allow.
Gael Uses:
Spell: Stupendous Conflagration
Effect: Immediately Combusts a Corpse or Other Flammable Material into a Towering Inferno. Cremates targets. Does Prodigious Fire Damage to Living Targets in Range. Eighty-Five Percent Base Chance to Inflict Burn On Living Targets.
Description: Primordial Cleansing Flame. Used for Plague Burning Rituals in Times Before the Demon Age. ¡°Burn it all.¡±
Norm was lit up in a tower of white-hot flame. He stumbled out of the blaze, still with a hefty 250/9324 HP. But in his hands was a Gargantuan Amber Level Up Bauble of Endurance. Enough to gain another three levels or so and refill his hit points back to full. ¡°Where¡¯s his Brand!?¡± Bellowed Mikail. Calaf looked around. The plainclothes Basic Armor was long-sleeved and covered most of the HP-sink¡¯s limbs. But, there was a slight discoloration of an Interface Brand peeking out around the left shin. ¡°Left ankle! Left ankle!¡± Calaf declared. Moving lightning fast, Mikail did a combat roll up to Norm¡¯s shin and rapidly sliced and diced as fast as his twin daggers would allow. Knives danced around, filleting the Brand until it cut clear through the man¡¯s unprotected leg. Norm toppled.
Name: Norm
Rank: Fighter
Level: 14
Status: 116/9324 (Shock)
Weapons: - Basic Club - Basic Armor
This System Menu shattered into constituent pieces, then disintegrated on the wind. With no Interface left, Norm squeezed the level up Bauble until it popped, accomplishing nothing.
Name: Norm
Rank: ???
Level: XX
Status: YYY/YYY
Hit Points maxed out at 116, and should still technically be around there under the Menu. But with the Brand scoured, hit points no longer applied the same way. His now-missing leg was no mere status effect, though impeded movement and general blood loss caused equivalents of a ¡°Limb Broken¡± and ¡°Blood Loss¡± status among others. Norm¡¯s new state as Brandless was short-lived, as Mikail did a twist, drop, and put him out of his misery with a jab of the Vanguard''s twin knives. ¡°Pity.¡± Honest John let out a sigh. ¡°Wasn¡¯t much of a conversationalist, but I¡¯ll quite miss that one¡¯s crafting skills. He could cook up a mean omelet.¡± This merchant-turned-bauble hoarding cult leader did not appear particularly panicked by the loss of the single toughest member of his mob. Indeed, three more heavies with thereabouts 3,000+ HP lumbered over the nearest hill, wielding steel-tipped clubs for extra offense. ¡°They just keep coming!¡± Karol said. All manner of low-level, high-stat vagabonds were pouring in from every direction. Those specialized for spellcraft could be dispatched by a single blow, but they often danced around in the back while these Endurance-specialized toughs closed the distance. Calaf and Jedd both had healing capabilities of course. Karol had a few paltry defensive and restoration-based options. But their enemy kept coming. Threatening to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. ¡°Everyone.¡± Calaf urged the party to close ranks. ¡°Here!¡±
Calaf Uses:
Spell: Tautological Defense
Effect: Provides a Party-Wide Buff Equal to 25% of Caster¡¯s Defense.
Description: Developed during the early Church era out of deference to the martyred Paladin of Yore. ¡°Mia, behind me!¡±
A defensive glow covered Calaf and company. Just like that, he¡¯d cast his first AOE buff. It would not be a substitute for healing capabilities, but it could help them endure. Many of the throngs of marauders coming for them were actively popping Baubles of various types as they walked in. They were actively getting stronger in real-time. While the median level of their foe was about level 12 now, it was going to rise rapidly. And each level brought disproportionate benefits courtesy of this curious cultivation. ¡°Well, sure hope Isen¡¯s having a good time, wherever he is!¡± Mikail said, having sliced through another two extra-fragile mages. ¡°Sure would be a good time to have a dedicated healer!¡± Calaf brought his shield up to withstand another sizzling arc of Fell Lightning. They could not escape to the east, back to the plains, just as many Agility-specced Cultivators were dashing in from that direction. If they could not escape, truly nothing more could save the party now. All the while, Honest John gazed upon the battle, silently observing. That smile never once spread to his eyes.
Chapter Forty: Left the Stove On
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: 10/10 (Newly of Age, Enterprising)
A maiden having only recently turned eighteen, Marianne was born to a pair of converts from across the sea. She worked as a maid and seamstress just outside the Port Town Cathedral District, works she¡¯d performed since the death of her parents on pilgrimage some twelve years prior. Marianne was named as a variation of and in deference to Cleric Mia, the holy priestess, whose shrine in the Cathedral annex she prayed to twice weekly for guidance and peace of mind. Bells rang as the weekly congregation filed out of Port Town¡¯s main cathedral. That kindly new interim bishop has drawn in many formerly lapsed Branded into the flock, thought the maid. Yes, this rather iniquitous town of libertine morals was hardly the most devout station on the pilgrimage route. But with a bit of spiritual guidance, even these lapsed souls could learn to accept the light and divine reassurance offered by the Holy Interface. The streets of Port Town were quiet of late. First, the pilgrimage season had wound down then those armies raised from the other stations had marched south in a hurry. As a result, it was only locals and foreign sailors on shore leave walking along. The lack of crowds left Marianne with a quiet anticipation. The pilgrimage season was over, whatever unpleasantness was sending armed, more southerly faithful would be resolved within the season. The path would be clear for her own pilgrimage next year, the centerpiece of her spiritual life, and an event she¡¯d been waiting for ages in which to participate.
Earlier in the week, Marianne had cleaned up some of the many hotel rooms belonging to adventurer''s parties and mercenaries that had been among those troops marshaling to respond to some such disturbance. She cleaned dutifully in her work uniform: a Plain Maid¡¯s Apron +1, equipped with her Austere Feather Duster and the always reliable Dire-Horsehair Broom +3. These sellswords were always rude, randy, and often just dropped used foodstuffs right out of their Inventories! Today, though, she was commissioned to travel along the sandy jetty off to the lighthouse. For as long as Marianne had been alive, the beacon had moved at a steady pace round and round, burning every night. Here in the early afternoon, the beacon was not yet lit. Marianne approached the lighthouse to discover a pair of church clerics standing guard at the door. ¡°Good day. I¡¯m a maid hired to attend to the cleaning of this place,¡± Marianne said. ¡°Go on in, you¡¯re expected,¡± said one of the clerics. Marianne stepped in with her hands clasped. Her apron swished about as she walked. A handful of other clerics and less prestigious grunt workers milled about on the first floor. ¡°Gotta manually crank the damn thing in shifts,¡± said one of the workers. ¡°How did it work for so long before!?¡± ¡°Nah, used to have a crank. Like clockwork,¡± said another, older worker. ¡°Did some maintenance on it back when I was your age. Heck, guess I was a few levels lower than you are now too. If it weren¡¯t for all that vine-gunk gumming up the works it would just need a single twist a month. Old bishop used to have a few guys come out and wind it now and again.¡± An unlit beacon stuffed with its daily allotment of firewood awaited high above. The workers stood around an Interface-incompatible crank, preparing to manually pull it for the day. A cleric pointed Marianne towards a flight of downward-spiraling stairs. Marianne nodded and followed the stairs. Down in the basement, a half-dozen other maids were already at work, sweeping and cleaning off some unsightly gunk along the far wall. They greeted Marianne. She recognized many, as they worked side by side cleaning inns and maritime trading conglomerate manses regularly. A small fire raged in a cut-in fireplace, where two maids swished some dried-up plant matter into the fire, disposing of it.
As she used her feather duster to sweep some orange and flesh-colored dust off the various walls and stairs, Marianne¡¯s mind drifted off to thoughts of her beloved sailor beau, Griff. She could have departed on the pilgrimage this year. The stories of the initiation rites in the Riverglen sewers had long filled her with anticipation. To travel along the same path as the Ancient Heroes of Yore! But she put it off, even as friends and fellow faithful began their journeys along the Church¡¯s holy pilgrimage path themselves. Why, Maid Barbara who worked the dockside inns was half as faithful as Marianne was, and she¡¯d left for pilgrimage two years ago! Barb had traveled to Autumn¡¯s Redoubt with convoys and garnered a respectable level 35. All the foreign sailors in port found the Brands quite attractive. According to Marianne¡¯s beau, they looked much like some decorative markings common among seafarers in foreign lands. Many a sailor converted just to add another tattoo to their repertoire. They often found their new Interface hard to wrangle with the knot-craft and caulking inherent to sea travel immediately thereafter. Certainly, sailors had found Barbara¡¯s Brand and the tales of her journey up the levels and along the path fascinating, for she had a portside apartment, three kids, and a foreign beau of her own currently sailing the trade routes. Which brought Marianne to thinking, wistfully, of her beloved Griff. A foreign sailor three yers her senior who¡¯d never seen a Brand until he¡¯d noticed hers and asked about it. (That her Brand happened to be on her upper thigh was another story). Handsome, dashing Griff stopped by Port Town three times since then, the latest of which was just the previous month. Marianne blushed as she worked, recalling how Griff hadn¡¯t even bothered to book an inn during his last weekend¡¯s worth of shore leave. The young maid whistled pleasantly as she worked with the kind of goofy tenor common to the lovestruck. The kind that the smitten seldom thought their coworkers noticed but they always did. Marianne¡¯s fellow maids worked in their assigned segments, giving Marianne¡¯s glurge-inducing wistful sweeping a wide birth. ¡°Hmm?¡± Mariane¡¯s broom caught something and sent it flying into the wall. She walked over and then knelt to investigate. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± A long and slender bone, a bit of dead, crisp plant life wrapped tightly around it, lay on the floor. It ended in a point, like a finger. Marianne wrinkled her nose. ¡°Must belong to a dead dire-mouse,¡± she said to herself. The maid chucked this bone into the fire. She swept and swept until the strange orangish blotches in this dingy basement were adequately blended into the cold stone. Basement clean, the maids worked their way up to the annex. Things here were less dank, less rotten, with much less to clean. The team of maids swished some refuse out of some cracks in the wall and tidied up strange blotches running up the walls along the stairs. The maid team cleaned the lighthouse from top to bottom. They got to the beacon to find it ready to light, the topmost floor having been deep-cleaned by some other team. ¡°We¡¯re just about to light it,¡± said a cleric. ¡°Your job is done. Visit the bishop¡¯s office after evening liturgy for payment.¡± Marianne curtseyed with a smile on her face and was the first to head down. All the maids lingered on the spiral stairwell just long enough to watch the cleric light the beacon with a quick Minor Conflagration spell.
Downstairs, the standard workers were busy pushing a great crank, winding the lighthouse up for another night¡¯s watch. ¡°Back in¡­ my day,¡± an older worker said. ¡°The old crank was System-compatible. Could be used with the Interface. And one windup¡­ hnnng¡­ lasted a whole month!¡± This was none of the maids'' concern, and they returned out onto the dunes of the cape. ¡°Bye, Barbara!¡± Marianne waved. ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re working, I presume your beau is back from overseas?¡± A very tired maid, not five years older than Marriane, but rather worn-down from work and childrearing, nodded. ¡°Yeah. Came in last night. Won¡¯t be departing again for another month or two. So I had him look after the kids for my shift.¡± Marianne jumped up happily. Excellent! Her beloved Griff and Barbara¡¯s beau were shipmates. Meaning that, with her maid duties complete, she should have some pleasant company for the next few weeks. She took off, spring in her step, all the pleasant and titillating possibilities dancing through her head.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The lighthouse illuminated her path back into town. Useful, as the sun was setting fast. Marrianne visited the cathedral. While the new bishop was meeting with some newly devout faithful after evening prayers, she was able to meet with his interim assistant.
Name: Deacon Jeb
Rank: Seer
Level 33
Status: 90/90 (Austere and Pious)
This deacon traded Marianne her wages for the lighthouse job. ¡°Thank you, deacon,¡± she said. ¡°Is Bishop, er, Bishop Deacon adapting well to the Port Town Flock?¡± ¡°Oh, but of course,¡± said Jeb. ¡°Say, my dear, did you know that that fine sailor gentleman caller was in town?¡± Marianne nodded. ¡°So I¡¯ve heard. I haven¡¯t seen him yet.¡± The deacon had a twinkle in his eye. ¡°He had a gift for you. You may wish to visit the annex of the heroes¡¯ shrines.¡± A secret surprise. And in the cathedral. Marianne gave a little self-satisfied giggle and went to the annex. She made for the Cleric¡¯s shrine, the preferred hero of lovers. She¡¯d taught dear Griff the basics of the church¡¯s teachings and was oh-so glad he¡¯d remembered the tales. What could this surprise be? She had her suspicions and moved with an extra sway to her hips as she walked. Only¡­ the cleric¡¯s shrine was abandoned. She looked around but did not find him waiting. ¡°Griff? Oh love, are you here?¡± At first, there was nothing. But then, on the breeze, she heard: ¡°Marianne¡­¡± It sounded like it was coming from behind the statue. And there was a slight twang to the name (foreigners from across the sea had a strange way of saying the ¡®e¡¯ equivalent) that it could only be¡­ ¡°Griff!¡± Marianne checked behind the statue and found only a loose stone pushed aside revealing a pathway into the town aqueducts. ¡°Marianne~¡± came the voice again, with a sing-song property. Strange vines writhed about unbridled along both walls of this hidden passage. ¡°Marianne~~~¡± It wouldn¡¯t do to engage in a romantic tryst on cathedral grounds. And there was only one reason why a non-Branded would visit the Cathedral. Yes, Marianne puzzled out the reality behind both surprises her dear, muscular, dashing sailor beau Griff had in store. ¡°I¡¯m coming, my love,¡± Marianne said with a cheeky flourish. The maid hiked her maid apron¡¯s skirt up, such that her Brand was just visible framed between her skirt and stocking, and then sashayed into the aqueduct. She made sure to tip-toe through the waters, better to preserve her work shoes.
The aqueduct was dark and damp. Griff hadn¡¯t even bothered to put some torches out! Marianne summoned forth ¡®Illuminate¡¯ ¨C one of the few utility magics available from level one. A modest node of light appeared in her hand. It synergized most unexpectantly with vines on the walls, which lit up with the faintest golden sheen. Not that Marianne was complaining. She stepped up onto a high and dry walkway and continued to follow the voice of her beloved through the channels. ¡°Griff? Oh Griff?¡± Marianne looked down one corner at a sudden intersection, then another. ¡°We¡¯re well off cathedral grounds now.¡± ¡°Closer. Have a surprise for you,¡± said Griff. There was no echo to his voice. Surely he was close. ¡°Coming, my love!¡± Vines snaked along the walls, leading towards a half-flooded cistern holding rainwater for later consumption by the bustling town. ¡°Over here, my love,¡± came a voice from a side room. ¡°Mmmm. Preparing a little love nest, my dashing sailor boy?¡± Marianne strutted up to the room. Griff was there, facing away from the door near a bed of moss and vines. What¡¯s more¡­
Name: Griff, Sailor
Rank: Convert
Level 1
Marianne smiled. Yes, her beloved had done it. For her. Become Branded and converted to the faith of the Holy Menu. ¡°My love,¡± she said. ¡°Ah, I think we could find a more romantic abode, dear. But I¡¯m sure we can manage.¡± Griff didn¡¯t turn. Odd. Well, the aloof sailor always did play hard to get. She skipped over to embrace Griff from behind. She hugged him from behind and still, he did not turn. ¡°Come now,¡± Marianne said, still smiling. She spun him around. Pallid skin clung tight to his face, soft from having been exposed to cistern water for hours. Griff¡¯s handsome foreign grey eye color was shaded over and dull. Flowery growths poked out of his skin at natural folds and along joints. And the Interface¡­
Name: Griff, Sailor
Rank: Convert
Level 1
HP: -14/12 (Dead)
Griff moved in a lurching fashion like his muscles were well into rigor mortis and he was being piloted via strings tied to every limb. He¡¯d been branded right on the neck, but that fresh Brand was now defiled and surrounded by vines emerging out of his skin. And from behind Marianne came a thunderous stomping footfall.
Name: Bruce
Rank: Monk, Thieves Guild
Level: 60
Status: -798/120 (Dead)
A second cadaver, far more rotted and vine-ridden than her beloved Griff, blocked the door. Massive fists wrapped around Marianne¡¯s throat from behind. And from her front, Griff joined in, throttling his beloved as well. ¡°Griff,¡± she tried to plea. ¡°You¡¯re being controlled. It¡¯s me, my love.¡± But there was no response. The twin grips strengthened.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: 8/10 (Asphyxiation)
Kick though she tried, it had no effect.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: 6/10 (Asphyxiation)
¡°You must fight it. Oh Griff.¡± Her airway cut out and only bile crept up.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: 4/10 (Asphyxiation, Heartbreak)
No, this was no spell or madness. Griff was slain. He¡¯d visited the cathedral and received his brand, then been killed on the same day. His corpse took turns strangling her now, his mind dead to the world. Marianne¡¯s vision darkened. Only Griff¡¯s sunken-in face remained clear.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: 1/10 (Asphyxiation, Heartbreak)
Yes, Griff was dead. His body repurposed, how and why the poor maid would never know. The only way to be together with her beloved now was¡­ Yes. Marianne¡¯s hands dropped to her side, limp.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: 0/10 (Dead)
The repurposed corpse of Bruce, Thieves¡¯ Guild heavy, continued to choke its dead victim until the HP counter rolled over to -1/10. Not a soul stirred in the cisterns and aqueducts of Port Town. The only sound was the quick, rhythmic plip of water falling from the cistern ceiling.
Bruce, former bare-fisted monk, and current corpse, dragged new meat down the halls of Port Town¡¯s elaborate cistern network. Its other possessed appendage was deployed trying to find more subjects from that sailor¡¯s leftover memories. Vines, reeds, and lily shoots in crimson congregated here and there amidst the aqueducts, jumbled near where cracks and holes in the ceiling allowed sunlight to sneak through during daylight hours. Deep in the sewers were some rooms chiseled into Port Town¡¯s porous bedrock once frequented by beggars and a few thieves'' guild workers operating underground. They all existed together now. Individual fingers used to sense when others came exploring. More than a few curious souls were caught that way. The rotting, vine-covered corpse of Bruce placed its quarry down in a shallow pit. All the better to keep the corpses separated, keep them from fusing into one morass as happened so often.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: -5/10 (Dead)
The maid lay still in her shallow grave, resting daintily on her bed of moss and vines. This one''s Brand was on her upper thigh. The entity knew that from the sailor-appendage¡¯s memories, free to shift through at will now that the host belonged to it . Better than on a limb, lest that infernal shackle impair movement once the body was repurposed. There were many others.
Name: Bart, Sailor
Rank: Fighter
Level 8
Status: -25/35 (Dead)
Name: Yalo, Homeless Wayfarer
Rank: Initiate
Level 3
Status: -9/14 (Dead)
Name: Edward, Overcurious Child.
Rank: Initiate
Level 1
Status: -40/10 (Dead)
Name: Isen, Firefield Mage
Rank: Cleric
Level 47
Status: -300/130 (Dead)
All rested in their beds. The corpse of Bruce shambled onward. Lower levels were reappropriated rapidly. It would not be long now. And then her memories would be used to acquire new meat. And the cycle would continue. Marianne¡¯s HP ticked down to -6/10. Too dead to properly consecrate in the Church crypts. Muscles in her left hand involuntarily twitched.
Chapter Forty-One: Dire-Cavalry has Arrived
Calaf of Riverglen tanked another blow from a Cultivator who''d put all their eggs into the ¡®Strength¡± basket. His shield and Squirely guard won out, but only just. Who knew there were so many pilgrims and wanderers in their sub-teen levels willing to drop everything and wander out into the hinterlands to pop strange-colored baubles for days on end. ¡°Isen¡¯s probably livin¡¯ it up back in a Firefield gambling hall!¡± Mikail complained, having just eviscerated another mage. ¡°Wish I¡¯d run off with him right now!¡± They¡¯d been fighting for hours. Holding their own, but with no signs of breaking out anytime soon. Dozens of Cultivators lay strewn across the watering hole, squat valley, and adjacent hills. Corpses were beginning to decay well beyond the ability to consecrate. Negative-6, negative-12, negative-20, and with nobody in any condition to dispose of the bodies. The party was beginning to tire. They could keep the lower-leveled marauders at bay but spellcasting required a bit of stamina and time to mutter out an incantation. All the while, Honest John, traveling merchant and rebel cult leader, looked on with that dead-eyed smile.
¡°Mikail. Break out!¡± Jedd ordered between shield bashes to unarmored nobodies. ¡°Get back to Plains Junction, rally up the church guards and city watch.¡± There were far more glory-hound leveling addicts here than was anticipated. And this shouldn¡¯t even be the brunt of their force! Reinforcements would be needed. Hell, the Junction itself could be at risk with enemy numbers this high. Nimble Vanguard Mikail took off to the east, only to swiftly reverse course as a squadron of Agility-maxing pursuers, wearing the minimal possible amount of clothing, ran him down at the limits of realistic human speed. Was there truly no escape? Calaf hazarded a look at that shifty merchant from back in Port Town. Honest John. He was the leader of this pack at least. Shifty creeper must¡¯ve been performing reconnaissance on the church-raised armies. An enemy commander hiding right under their noses! Regardless, he was most certainly the ringleader of this current band bearing down upon the party. Calaf cast his Tautological Defense, beefing up the toughness of himself and the rest of the party (save for Mikail, who was out of range). Defenses at max, Calaf stashed his shield and took off as fast as his heavy armor would allow. With a swish, Calaf extinguished the flame-enhancement on his spear. The extra damage would be nice, but he had another plan in mind. Honest John stood up on the high ground, prepping his stabbing knives. Calaf approached holding his spear in a two-handed stance and attacked with a simple thrust. With an arrogant smirk, Honest John performed an acrobatic backflip. Of course, he wouldn¡¯t stand and fight with honor. And then, on the counterattack¡­
Special Technique: Triple Stab Effect: Stab Three Times. Pierces Defense.
Three knife thrusts jabbed in quick succession. They hit Calaf unshielded, striking through his armor. Damage compounded.
Name: Calaf, Crusader
Rank: Squire
Level 40
Status: 84/120 (Gut-Punch)
¡°Ahh.¡± Calaf knelt to one knee. Honest John prepped the stabbing knife for another attack. Calaf readjusted the grip on his spear and stabbed again. John did not stay still to tank the blow, but Calaf didn¡¯t expect him to. Instead, the Squire jammed his spear into the dry hilltop and, with a motion like an undertaker¡¯s shovel, threw up a clod of dirt into John¡¯s face. Blind! The debuff appeared on the not-so-honest businessman¡¯s Status screen. His arms went up towards his face, incapable of blocking or thrusting once more. Then, with a follow-up attack, Calaf readjusted his spear and brought the steel-banded butt-end into Honest John¡¯s ribcage.
Name: Honest John, Humble Cult Leader
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 13
Status: 8/24 (Broken Rib, Still Smiling)
Weapons: Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20)
¡°Oof.¡± Now it was Honest John who wound up on one knee. ¡°Yield!¡± Calaf declared, bringing his spear around. One good spear hit would have ended John. But if he could be taken prisoner or call the cult off John could well be more valuable alive than dead. The lull in the battle only allowed Honest John to pull out a second weapon:
Name: Honest John, Humble Cult Leader
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 13Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Status: 8/24 (Broken Rib, Smile Growing Wider And More Uncanny)
Weapons: - Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20) - Poisoned Gunknife (x1) (Agl: 48, Arcane: 7)
Back on his feet, John twirled one knife, then the other. Calaf pulled his shield out, ready to slug it out. He¡¯d just need some more damage mitigation against that armor-piercing knife. Effect Resistance should at least give him some protection against poison. Calaf would only need to land one good hit¡­ The pair prepared to slug it out. Until¡­ A war horn echoed along the hills and valleys of the hinterlands. It came from the East, numerous Agility-maxed Cultivator types fleeing west and north in the call¡¯s wake.
Honest John looked to the East. ¡°Damn. If I wasn¡¯t distracted by this brat.¡± Pitched battle continued down in the valley. Jedd swung his shield in a wide arc, sending three foes flying, belatedly ruing their lack of Endurance stat. From up on the hill, Calaf and Honest John could see the formations spewing forth from the direction of Plains Junction. Moving up into the higher ground of the hinterlands. Entire parties of mid and high-level Scout-types ran ahead of the group, outmaneuvering all but the swiftest Agility-maxing type Cultivators. ¡°Bah. Everyone back to the tower,¡± Honest John bellowed to all who were in earshot. The cultists slunk off, with Honest John suddenly side-stepping Calaf¡¯s next spear thrust and rushing off with his prodigious Agility stat. Calaf applied an Intermediate Heal to himself ¨C no small feat, as he was winded at this point. Enough Cultivators took off ¨C the fast ones sprinting away, those with prodigious Arcane stats warping off to parts unknown, the big ones lumbering off with a slow gait that would prove easy to track. ¡°They¡¯re tough but lack the discipline of a proper fighting force.¡± Jedd removed his Longsword of Duran from the nearest Endurance-Cultivator. The day was saved. But Honest John got away. Mikail went to work tracking him while Jedd had the party wait atop the hill with Calaf while they rendezvoused with the main army.
They were met by a church-raised contingent from Plains Junction, the closest city being the first to head out. Port Town and Firefield brigades, with their comparatively higher level bases to pull from, were coming in on either flank. ¡°Where¡¯s the Riverglen contingent?¡± Calaf asked the first party of scouts that approached. ¡°In the back,¡± said a Scout. Riverglen was, of course, the city with the lowest level range of dire-animals and other threats. The result was two wings of armies that were high-level enough to mop up with any loosely organized band of Cultivators, while the central formation was made of two lower-level armies that compensated for the lack of a level delta with their foe by sheer numbers. Jedd was the one with the responsibilities. He reported to a Plains Junction cleric operating as Colonel for the lead contingent. Karol, meanwhile, rested on the nearest provided box just as soon as the supply parties arrived to drop some heavy boxes from their Inventories. The young redheaded woman breathed heavily. ¡°Whew. Now I¡¯ve fought bandits and dire-creatures.¡± Karol huffed. ¡°But that¡­ was intense.¡± ¡°Only just begun, lassie!¡± Gael said, the hours of heavy combat having surprisingly little effect on the old man¡¯s stamina. Calaf blessed Karol with an Intermediate Heal. Her health maxed out, healing only a paltry fifteen hit points. ¡°Ah. That wasn¡¯t necessary.¡± Karol smiled. ¡°Just winded. Whew.¡± ¡°Think nothing of it,¡± Calaf said. She could consider it his good, chivalrous deed for the day. ¡°These hills should be defensible enough,¡± Gael said as the pair recuperated. ¡°By tomorrow we¡¯ll reach the Battletower. They¡¯ll be swarming around it like a bunch of dire-hornets.¡± ¡°Not much siege equipment¡­¡± Calaf mentioned. Mikail walked up to where the group would pitch their tents when Jedd returned. ¡°An extended siege won¡¯t be necessary,¡± said the Vanguard. ¡°Aye.¡± Gael nodded. ¡°The Battletower is blessed with immunity to all siege craft, be it catapult or magical fireball. But it was not meant to operate as a fortress. Nay, it¡¯s a place of learning; a college for Interface-craft. There are entire wings of nothing but books. Newer tomes puzzle out every intricacy of the System. And before that, great treatises about demons. Thesis about the basics and origins of magic in the time before any such Menu Brand allowed us to just use it. And that¡¯s just the lower levels. The tower itself is an ancient relic unto itself, a spiraling, shifting house of traps that will test anyone¡¯s magical and dexterous capabilities, it will.¡± ¡°Pre-Interface magic?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°How was that done?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the kicker ¨C it wasn¡¯t! Calculations for summoning forth even a whiff of flame were so complex as to be functionally impossible for even the most learned of scholars.¡± ¡°They¡¯ve got some kinda demon bestiary in there?¡± Karol asked. ¡°Keep hearing rumors about demons in the Fellmarsh. That could be useful one day.¡± Gael nodded. ¡°There one be, aye. Hmm. Though now that you mention it I don¡¯t recall anything it mentioned at all.¡± There was a quiet pause. With night rapidly approaching, the various campsites were arranged, activated by a handy Menu item. Each ¡®Campsite¡¯ item came with a convenient campfire for illumination and cooking right in the middle of some standard-issue tents. Warm lights cropped up along the hills and valleys. Mikail took the opportunity to lend his own Campsite item to the cause. It was well into the evening when Jedd returned. ¡°Hey, brother. What¡¯re the marching orders?¡± Karol asked. Having rested up, she¡¯d taken to lounging about on a more cushioned cot. ¡°We¡¯re to travel with the Plains and Riverglen contingents.¡± The Paladin entered one of the tents earmarked for him. That would put Calaf closer to Gorman in the Riverglen battalions. He rose. ¡°Have some friends I can try to visit before turning in,¡± Calaf said. Jedd stopped him before Calaf could slink off. ¡°You did good, trying to rush up and pick off the leader.¡± Jedd had his gauntlet on Calf¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Just¡­ maybe try not to break formation next time.¡±
¡°Hey!¡± Gorman waved from a Riverglen-based party. ¡°Moving up in the world? I¡¯d have expected you to gain a level or two, with all the combat that the vanguard and scouts have been reporting.¡± Calaf found Gorman near the front of the Riverglen camps. Campsites had the insignia of the region or town of origin. Being the first stop on the pilgrimage route, Riverglen¡¯s tents were a little¡­ austere. Private adventurers such as Jedd¡¯s group had far more extensive campsite infrastructure. Calaf didn¡¯t tell Gorman that. Instead, he only shrugged. ¡°Eh. We¡¯ve seen plenty of combat, but the enemies are low-level.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Gorman nodded understandably. ¡°Heard rumors they somehow managed to manipulate their stats Interface? How?¡± ¡°Some kind of item. Like a bauble, or small stone. They use it, it gives some experience and builds up increases in one of the key stats come the next level up. I¡¯ve seen level twelves with Endurance or Intellect that ought not to be possible until Fort Duran!¡± Gorman¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s rough, buddy.¡± The pair went ahead and ate their rations for the evening over the campfire. ¡°We, ah, still outnumber them, right?¡± Five people per party. One party per campfire. Maybe two-hundred fifty campfires in the Riverglen contingent ¨C one of the smaller armies here. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°Ah, we¡¯re probably betraying our numbers out here in the open. But what we fought this morning was comparable to the Riverglen army.¡± Silence reigned around the campfire. ¡°Well,¡± Gorman began. ¡°Guess we¡¯d best not be splitting the armies up then.¡± The pair shared a chuckle. ¡°Certainly going to be harder than impaling Rat Kings back home,¡± Gorman added after a time. ¡°Say, where¡¯s Charlotte?¡± Calaf looked around for the primary healer¡¯s tent. ¡°Back in Plains Junction. Most of the healers are down here, but she¡¯s got administrative duties. She¡¯ll be coming down with the reinforcements in a day or so.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Why, opening skirmishes get your blood boiling?¡± Gorman smirked. ¡°Hoping to dispel your ol¡¯ ¡®Virgin¡¯ status effects on the eve of battle?¡± ¡°Am not!¡± Calaf protested. ¡°I was just hoping to meet her again.¡± It felt like a lifetime since they¡¯d last met in the Riverglen Cathedral. And it¡¯s not like Charlotte would dare engage in such¡­ pre-wedlock¡­ activities. Statuses and titles come with such indiscretion! Those who break their vows to their loved ones or the church were easily revealed by their Interface name windows. Any lapse in judgment resulting in physical actions would be immediately apparent, particularly for a holy deaconess! Gorman raised an eyebrow. ¡°You, eh, really are serious about keeping things to premarital handholding, eh?¡± ¡°But of course.¡± Calaf puffed his chest up. ¡°She is a holy woman and I an aspiring beacon of chivalry. Why, that sounds more like the actions of¡­¡± His voice trailed off. It sounded more like the actions of a certain suave, one-eyed criminal whose temptations he had so nobly resisted. Calaf blushed. Every conversation kept coming back to her, it seemed. Why do I keep thinking about her? Calaf thought to himself, flustered. Why, Jelena was the very reason why he was here at this moment. Were it not for the former Sister Turandot, he¡¯d have still been in the sewer. Beating rats with his Basic Iron Spear. Listening to Pryor Yordan and Deaconess Charlotte¡¯s revolving sermons about the early days of the Heroes of Yore... ¡°Say, Gorman.¡± The Squire attempted to change the subject. ¡°Some of my party are from Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, but I¡¯ve noticed no full contingents come from north of the desert.¡± The lower-level Battlemage aspirant nodded. ¡°Haven¡¯t heard anything but rumors. Word around the Firefield camp is that there¡¯s another uprising up north. More Cultivators. But¡­ well, again, just rumors. They say there¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Yes?¡± Calaf raised an eyebrow. ¡°There¡¯s a more¡­ official, component to it. Someone high up in the old nobility.¡± The pair of former sewer guards let the punctuation hang in the air. ¡°But again, only rumors.¡± Gorman pulled up an Interface and rekindled the fire with a bit of wood. ¡°Right.¡± Calaf got up. ¡°I should be leaving anyway. Almost time to turn in.¡± ¡°It¡¯s said the free companies will be the tip of the spear.¡± Gorman nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be okay, considering all the levels you¡¯ve gotten under your belt now.¡± ¡°I happen to be an expert with regards to offensive spear tips.¡± With a surprisingly cocky smile, Calaf motioned to his trusty Steel Spear ¡®o The Plains, still in use since the last time he¡¯d been in the Junction. ¡°Good luck out there,¡± Gorman said. ¡°And Calaf?¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°May the System be in your favor. Praise be the Interface and all that.¡± Calaf nodded sagely. ¡°Hallowed be,¡± he said, and returned to the northernmost camps.
Chapter Forty-Two: Self-Destructive Negotiations
A full moon brought much-needed light to the dense forests of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. Moonlight reflected off leaves of branches of golden boughs and a carpet of reddish leaves on the ground, bathing the whole region in an ethereal glow. With its sparse population and relative lack of travelers, the path grew nearly pitch black during a new moon. Jelena and Enkidu crawled up to a ledge overlooking a fortress deep in the woods. Far below, a group riding dire-horses galloped up to a drawbridge. ¡°Hmm. Let¡¯s just have a quick look-see.¡± Jelena brandished a slender tube-looking instrument. It was called a ¡®monocular¡¯. A shrunken-down version of much larger tools that sit atop the Battletower. Useful for zooming in and observing far-off objects. For the Branded it was just a matter of Interfacing with the object, selecting ¡®Use¡¯, and letting the item¡¯s properties take effect. It had an item designation and description and everything. But Jelena¡¯s Brand was Scoured, and access to all features was lost. So, she just lugged it around the old-fashioned way and held it up to her remaining good eye to observe. ¡°Regular army. Just like the guys who picked off those adventurers a few miles back.¡± Jelena¡¯s lone eye narrowed. ¡°Full armor. Immaculately equipped. Maybe thereabouts level sixty or above.¡± Enkidu lay prone beside her in silence, as usual. Down near the fortress, the dire-cavalry was joined by another squad escorting a cart. Soon another cart arrived, and another, all accompanied by a squadron of dire-horse riding knights. ¡°They¡¯re bringing in relics,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Food rations and weapons, of course. And¡­ hmm?¡± The relic thief twisted the scope, zooming in on a carriage, pulled by a single dire-llama. Soft candlelight from within illuminated a single diminutive figure within. ¡°Someone¡¯s stocking up for a power play~¡± Jelena said with a singsong tone. Where there were stockpiles there would be relics. And where there were relics, there were opportunities to thieve those relics. Yes, simple arithmetic, really. A grand drawbridge lowered and a man in austere, low-level clerical garb walked out to greet them. Though he appeared like an unassuming aesthetic, he was flanked by two guards in full plate armor. ¡°Oh?¡± Jelena focused in on this figure. ¡°Lips are moving but I can¡¯t make anything out.¡± It was a silent request. Your move, buddy. Enkidu grumbled, but focused-in on the conversation below, nonetheless. Jelena offered the monocular, but he did not take it. ¡°They¡¯re saying this will be the last convoy,¡± Enkidu echoed. ¡°Church Arbiters on the roads. Wiped out the army coming in from the Fellmarsh garrison. Only the Battletower and Granite¡¯s Pass relics have made it. That, and¡­ someone else.¡± Jelena raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her lips pursed. ¡°Now the cleric says. ¡®No matter. At least the holy heir has made it. That is all we need. My beloved will be pleased. She¡¯s waiting inside to meet her. Come on it, blessings be upon you.¡± Enkidu translated, his voice softer than usual. ¡°The plot thickens.¡± Jelena¡¯s pursed lips turned into a proper smile. ¡°Sounds like this is where all the real action¡¯s going to be. Ah, I guess that strapping, upstanding church boy is on a snipe hunt¡­¡± Yep, Calaf¡¯s journey home had brought him on a collision course with the cannon fodder all along. A distraction. Some unorganized rabble was never expected to hold the Battletower ¨C an impossible feat given its indefensibility. The real action was here, near another even more indominable dungeon. And whoever was organizing all this had a distinct interest in that old relic Jelena had inadvertently pawned off to a merchant around Deepwood¡­ and in this guest currently sitting still in the carriage down on the road. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of him again.¡± All at once, Jelena¡¯s face went perfectly neutral. ¡°Am not.¡± ¡°This uprising will spread. They¡¯re preparing for a siege. This place will soon be a battlefield.¡± Enkidu grumbled. ¡°Reunion is not out of the question; he may yet be redeployed.¡± Jelena grit her teeth. ¡°Seems likely. But what are the chances we meet again amidst all this chaos? Ah, he¡¯d better gain some more levels soon. The Redoubt¡¯ll chew up a level forty and spit him out.¡± Below, the convoy and cavalry unit both stormed through the ancient portcullis of Fort Duran. There was work going on along the ramparts around the clock. Renovations were being done to better fortify the old castle, which hadn¡¯t seen warfare since roving bands of demons flew the skies. There must be an incredibly powerful benefactor operating behind the scenes to both command regular armies from up around the Olde Capital and to clear Fort Duran out so thoroughly that it could serve as their primary base of operations. ¡°Your Riverglen friend,¡± Endkidu said after a time. ¡°Is he jealous?¡± ¡°Pshaw. Of what?¡± Jelena deflected. ¡°You have prior sexual experience,¡± said the Wildman. ¡°He seems¡­ virginal.¡± ¡°Wow. Thanks for reminding me. Completely forgot about my wild and sordid past,¡± she squeaked, nearly forgetting their need for stealth. ¡°Certainly, a promiscuous criminal such as my self is far to gone into sinful, worldly delights to be with this random, upstanding gentleman who chased us halfway across the land. And have I mentioned he¡¯s engaged?¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Blood pooled in Jelena¡¯s cheeks, turning them a healthy shade darker than her usual complexion. ¡°Sheltered church-folk may actually find that attractive,¡± the hairy mountain man said all nonchalant. ¡°It could be seen as tempestuous. A forbidden fruit to succumb to. Or quite the opposite; a fallen angel to redeem.¡± ¡°Stupid Enkidu,¡± she concluded in one raspy, cursing breath. Then, when there was no response, she muttered to herself: ¡°New-convert piousness kept me dutifully following the rules for a time. But after pilgrimage ended and I returned to Japella, after a year or two, well¡­ Even before I took the eye out¡­ old habits die hard.¡± ¡°¡­ Your wild and sordid near-present too.¡± Enkidu said with aloof indifference piled on so thick it came off as innocence. ¡°Though I¡¯ve noticed you¡¯ve stopped paying visits to red light districts since the Riverglen job. Did you mention to your pursuer how we...¡± ¡°No. No. No. What happens in Firefield stays in Firefield,¡± Jelena said. ¡°I mentioned nothing about your highly embarrassing backstory, old man.¡± ¡°So, he wouldn¡¯t be jealous if he knew¡­¡± ¡°That was a one time thing.¡± Jelena¡¯s blush grew even deeper. ¡°Look, we were in a brothel. I¡¯d had, ahem ahem, dealings with the working girls, and they seemed satisfied well enough.¡± Again, the pair paused. ¡°Wait¡­ are you jealous?¡± Jelena looked over. ¡°No.¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Okay. No relationship talk during a job,¡± Jelena declared suddenly. ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t mention that go-getting, determined, morally upstanding pretty boy again until we¡¯re done here. Kay? He¡¯s¡­ distracting.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°¡­ or next time, I¡¯m definitely sharing your embarrassing backstory.¡±
Night passed with near-constant harassment along the edge of camp by unruly vandals with twelve levels and sixty+ Agility stats under their belts. Few slept well with sabotage and supplies theft rampant. Despite minimal training, these Cultivators were growing increasingly adept at guerrilla warfare. Come dawn the thieves and saboteurs had slunk away into the hills. The armies marshalled from four cities marched in a wide arc through the lightly forested foothills north of Twelfthnight. Too large to be fought on the open field. High-level Scouts made up the van, both discouraging future harassment and sensing attempted guerilla movements well ahead of time. Jedd¡¯s party, with the Paladin in the front, his sister and Gael just behind him, and Calaf taking up the back of the position. Mikail was off among the Vanguard. Fitting, as his class was indeed ¡®Vanguard.¡¯ Before the sun even began to dip down into the west they encountered it: The Battletower. A hulking monstrosity of concentric pentagonal structures narrowing near the top before spreading out once more into a high redoubt. The Battletower, the first dungeon on the pilgrimage route, but far out of the way, was hemmed in by mountains taller than even the tower itself to the north and west. Beyond that was a inhospitable badlands of crags and dried riverbeds. Belatedly, Calaf realized he would have passed on the far side of that mountain range during his journey with Gorman, skirting the alpine Deepwoods. The mountains alone had blocked his proper view of the tower. And what a sight it would have been to his low-level self. ¡°There it is.¡± Gael nodded sagely. ¡°Lower levels are still inhabited. Or were; who knows where all the scholars have gone since the Cultivators moved in. It¡¯s the tower itself that¡¯s the deathtrap where only the most guile heroes dare reach the top.¡± ¡°No signs of Cultivators. They must all be in the tower,¡± Karol said. ¡°Church will send a deacon out to request parley,¡± Jedd said. ¡°Under guard, of course. Our role is to wait.¡± And wait they did. Calaf looked southeast, two whole armies arrayed at his back. Gorman was out there. And an entire second wave of reinforcements, with Charlotte among them. Would it be enough? In time, a higher-level Deacon came out from the Firefield contingent. This deacon and a contingent of church-ordained guards rode out on dire-emus towards the Battletower. For a time, nobody appeared. But then, a group of five left out the largest door. Calaf and company¡¯s role here was to just sit back with the main army and observe. Maybe the Cultivators would surrender, surrounded as they were. What terms could they be given? Surely if they just handed in these weird baubles to church authorities and go home, this could all be resolved without too much in the way of excommunication. ¡°Can anyone hear them?¡± Karol asked after a time. ¡°Ah, if Mikail were here, I think he¡¯s got a long-distance lip-reading perk¡­¡± Calaf sighed. He did not at all expect to actively march in an army against a heretical movement. It was caused by downstream effects of those relic thefts that had sent him on a journey so long ago now. Funny how that worked. Well, with the Cultivators surrendered, it wouldn¡¯t be more than a few days walk back home. And he could do that on the march, with Charlotte and Gorman. ¡°Hmm? What¡¯s that?¡± Karol held a hand up above her head like a visor, blocking the sun from her eyes. Up high atop the Battletower, a whirling purple glare appeared from a window. It went from tiny pinprick of light to whirling ball of electric death in seconds.
Spell: Thundaraga XXI
Effect: Deals Prodigious Lightning Damage Across A 1-mile area. (INT: 50, ARC: 75)
Description: Do Not Use in Close Quarters
A wide, jagged arc of off-white lightning that phased into purple as it traveled to ground shot forth from atop the Battletower and cleansed a 270-degree arc from the front of the tower. The church deacon and his guards disappeared into the ether ¨C as did the Cultivators sent out to parlay. An arc of charred ground was all that remained. A collective gasp went out from the Plains Junction and Riverglen contingents. Their foe had just fried their own delegation. Up in the high tower, another set of whirling electric lightning balls formed¡­ joined by nascent fireballs and whirling vortexes of compressed wind. Horns blared from the back rows. ¡°That¡¯s the all-forward signal!¡± Jedd said, sword brandished. ¡°Weapons up. All, march!¡± Brigades were organized by parties. So individual units of five, arranged in turn in columns five to ten parties wide. ¡®Independent¡¯ parties such as Jedd¡¯s sellsword pick up group were in the front line, nominally under Plains Junction¡¯s banner. All at once, the front line took a step forward, then another. Calaf prepped his shield. A searing fireball of some prodigious numerical designation flew directly at the party¡­
Spell: Fell Fireball LXVI
Effect: Throws a Single Fell Fireball of Hellfire in an arc up to half a mile. (INT: 68, ARC: 80)
Description: Aiming Not Provided and Indeed, Impossible. Throw and Pray.
Jedd stood his ground in front of the group. His towering great shield stood tall. The entire blob of molten fell-fire impacted the shield and fell right to the floor. Smoldering, but failing to even singe Jedd¡¯s fireproof boots. He looked back at the party, particularly his sister, Karol. ¡°Stay behind me!¡± he ordered. They charged, Calaf doing his duty as the rearguard.
Chapter Forty-Three: Putting the Cult in Cultivator
The party to Calaf¡¯s left was hit by a pillar of wind that thrust them upward into the sky. These hapless and surprised Plains Junction soldiers took surprisingly little damage from the initial vortex, but when they landed¡­ Calaf and Karol shuddered as their fellow soldiers hit the ground, bones rattling about in full armor like they were jumbled in a metallic sack. Still, the army pressed forward. The higher-level flanks moved faster courtesy of higher Agility stats. With armor and proper weaponry, they easily cut through some equally-Agility focused Cultivators trying to harry them. The primary threat, as always, came from the magical artillery up in the tower itself. On Jedd¡¯s orders Calaf held his shield up high and rushed beside his senior Paladin. Karol and Gael fell in behind them, as did Mikail coming in from the van. The Battletower loomed, with only a paltry group of hit-and run Scout-types on the ground trying to slow them down. Cannon fodder was of no consequence, and the five-man band kept on rushing. True to reports, the ground floor was not at all meant as a fort. It was wide open, with dozens or hundreds of entrances underneath stone archways. ¡°Either go through the main gate or go through one of the arches with a blood-red keystone!¡± Gael said, huffing along as fast as he could. ¡°Huh?¡± Calaf said. Ahead, many parties were already passing through archways of all kinds. Those that went through a red-marked arch typically had a Battlemage or equivalent in their ranks. ¡°Red arches!¡± Gael said. ¡°What if we get the wrong one?¡± ¡°Nothing good!¡± Gael said again as they approached the outer wall.
A crimson keystone loomed overhead. They party charged inside and emerged in a grand annex. ¡°We made it!¡± Karol said. ¡°Hello, Battletower. Let¡¯s mop up this rabble of up-jumped level tens so we can raid the dungeon proper.¡± The massive army outside was reduced considerably. Those who entered through the front gate or a red-highlighted arch before Calaf¡¯s group had already rushed ahead and were running off to secure various wings. Though an entire army was rushing in at their backs, only a few dozen walked through the wide entranceway. ¡°Where does everyone who walks through one of the wrong archways go?¡± Calaf asked again. ¡°I said nowhere good.¡± Gael coughed up some bile and spat. ¡°Now follow me. These early floors are a proper college for mages. But these Cultivators have almost certainly reappropriated some traps from higher up. Set them against us. It¡¯s what I¡¯d do, laddie.¡± Surely they could have told the army that. Most parties had a Battlemage of some kind, but not all of them survived the rush to the tower. The entrance/exit behind them was shrouded in darkness. A Vanguard attempted to exit but was just spat right back out. With no way of communicating with the army outside, the party would have to advance forward. ¡°Gael, you¡¯ve been here before,¡± Jedd said, hoping for him to take point. ¡°Right. Follow me, and match my steps,¡± said the old vet.
¡°So, the ancient mages of this tower used to work mostly in theory,¡± Gael explained nonchalantly as they slunk through an abandoned scholarly lecture hall. ¡°Aye, so the Battlemages were just an order of monster slayers. Predate the Brands and even most forms of practical magic. They adapted well to the Interface just as soon as they took to the Brand, and used it to complement their sword skills with fierce magic. Finally, all these theoretical calculations they used to determine how our world¡¯s magic system worked could be applied in the field.¡± ¡°Everyone stay frosty!¡± Jedd ordered. Jedd and Mikail remained peerless. Karol, in contrast, hung on to the Battlemage¡¯s every word. Calaf tried staying frosty but found the old magic knight¡¯s impromptu stories distracting. The party found themselves in a scientific hall. Calculations sat scribbled on pieces of parchment and great chalk-crusted whiteboards. ¡°Don¡¯t read too much into these formulas,¡± Gael warned. ¡°There¡¯s at least one that just sets your eyes on fire! What was it called? Something about plants, oddly enough. Ah, ¡®Equation of Life Unbridled¡¯, I think.¡± ¡°Spooky,¡± Karol whispered. ¡°Where¡¯d the enemy run off to?¡± Mikail kept a constant eye on every possible entrance. ¡°Probably up the tower. It¡¯s where I would go.¡± ¡°Every Battlemage in the Church has already climbed the tower before their class change,¡± Jedd said. ¡°There are hundreds in just the Firefield brigades. No matter how many traps the tower has, we¡¯ll break through eventually.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s anything in here that would let them warp away? Retreat somewhere else?¡± Karol asked. ¡°Unlikely.¡± Gael grumbled. ¡°Judging by yesterday¡¯s retreat, any warp points were likely set up here.¡± The crew reached their first trap in short order: a broken tripwire, a set of blades from the ceiling, and a dead cleric:
Name: Roberto the Clueless Cleric
Rank: Cleric
Level 51
Status: -3/168 (Dead, Nearsighted)
¡°Well, that¡¯s another party without a healer,¡± Mikail said through gritted teeth. ¡°I¡¯ll take the front row. Should be able to dodge any traps I fail to detect. Hopefully.¡± Calaf looked upon the robe-obscured visage of the dead Cleric. Such damage from a single trap. Ahead, Mikail nimbly defused a second tripwire. They were shadowing another party at least, with no signs of battle. ¡°Eyes up,¡± Gael cautioned. ¡°Stay alert. That¡¯s how they get ya. What Jedd said, stay frosty, aye?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Calaf echoed and pressed forward with his shield up.
Another lecture hall, a laboratory, all manner of scholarly rooms sat abandoned. This was what the contemporary Battletower was these days: a mage¡¯s college with a dungeon attached to test the aspiring spell-swords mettle, metal, and magic all at once. Calaf peered at a strange object behind glass:
Item: Basic Flintlock Description: Ordinary Flintlock Firearm Developed by Battlemages of the Battletower in Relatively Recent Times. Still Experimental. (Req: Agility: 20. Additional Agility Required for Accuracy Multipliers)
¡°This is¡­¡± Calaf mused. The same type of weapon had cut down Pryor Yordan, his foster father. Anger flared, followed by a sense of resignation. Calaf sighed. Should he still feel angry? Should he have vowed at Japella never to stop until Jelena was in chains or shipped off to a convent for a lifetime of repentance? She had not been the cackling villain he¡¯d expected when he heard someone had shot the Pryor. But why had she done it? No, no, now wasn¡¯t the time to be soft. He just had more immediate threats to worry about. Still, Jelena had been here at one point, probably raided the tower for these ¡°Firearms.¡± ¡°Aye, that,¡± Gael said. ¡°Cuts right through all but the highest level armor. Nasty work. Unsporting.¡± Refocusing, Calaf looked through some jars full of preservatives and found some strange squid-looking creatures, still squirming around in there. A be-suckered tentacle flopped up against the side of the glass. ¡°I think he likes you,¡± Karol said with a sly smirk. ¡°Now the basement. That¡¯s where all the real items of scholarly import lie!¡± Gael said. ¡°If they found any of these level up bauble whatsits, that¡¯s where they¡¯d be.¡± The party reached a hallway that ended in a bare sheet of rock wall. ¡°A trap.¡± Mikail correctly identified. The wall moved back to the left, revealing the remainder of the hallway curving out of sight, and four corpses, squashed, cake to the wall. Mismatched so thoroughly there was no real identification left via the Menu. ¡°Leave it to me.¡± Mikail took point, taking off down the hallway at a running start. With an acrobatic backflip, he dodged just as the false wall slammed shut with a mechanized crunching sound of stone on stone. Karol gasped. ¡°He made it,¡± Gael said confidently. Precious seconds passed. Then, the wall reset. ¡°Found the lever.¡± Mikail said. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t trip again.¡± Just as he said this, a shadow upon the wall stirred. A slender figure formed right behind Mikail, an obsidian knife dripping with poison in hand.
Name: Alphonse, Agility Cultivator
Rank: DefthandsThe tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Level 19
Status: 23/23 (Silent Steps)
With Agility enough that his default resting state was practically invisible, Alphonse the Agility Cultivator sliced Mikail¡¯s neck. That the Vanguard survived was only because he moved his hands up to block his throat at the last minute.
Name: Mikail of Firefield
Rank: Vanguard
Level 48
Status: 7/76 (Bleeding Out, Poisoned)
Weapons: Twin Redstone Twirling Knives (x2)
Hit Points under ten and dropping fast! Two more shadows with levels in the mid-teens came out of resting position and began stabbing at Mikail as he lay prone on the floor. With a mighty war cry, Jedd twisted his Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing sideways giving it a horizontal spread that filled the hall. He rushed forward. ¡°Heal him!¡± Jedd bellowed as he surged down the hall. The shield¡¯s momentum proved enough to fell the two lowest-level shadows. The Paladin grappled with this Agility-Cultivator while Calaf rushed up from behind. Two Basic Heals kept Mikail in the green and stopped the blood from flowing. A quick recitation from that scroll of Purification dispelled the poison from Mikail¡¯s body and kept his HP from ticking down again. Alphonse the Agility Cultivator disappeared from where he was grappling with Jedd. He reappeared in a column of shadow at the Paladin¡¯s back¡­ ¡°Watch out!¡± Calaf leapt and inflicted a critical hit that only a spear-blow through the back of the neck could deliver.
Name: Alphonse, Agility Cultivator
Rank: Defthands
Level 19
Status: -7/23 (Dead)
¡°Rest unconsecrated.¡± Jedd took the rather uncouth action of spitting on Alph¡¯s corpse. ¡°Vile heretical filth.¡± The Paladin and Scout took turns casting Intermediate Heal on Mikail. In time his HP was back up, with only a faint and rapidly healing scar on his neck that would be gone within a fortnight. ¡°Ah. I can still fight,¡± the Vanguard declared, gasping for air. Just like that, he was in ship-shape. Another miracle of the System and its glorious Interface. An Unbranded was not going to be getting up from a similar blow for days, if ever. ¡°Keep pressing. We¡¯re getting close,¡± Jedd said.
The group stepped carefully, seeing not another soul or any signs of battle, until they reached a regal library. ¡°All the compiled works of the Battlemages through the ages,¡± Gael said. ¡°Secular equivalent of those etched teachings at Deepwood. A treasure trove of knowledge. Hope the scholars are still safe¡­¡± Gael said this last sentence in the kind of grimacing tone that indicated the Cultivators had likely disposed of them. They passed one wing of books that had been thoroughly rifled through. Most tomes sat on the floor. A few pages had been ripped or burnt out. ¡°What do we have here?¡± Karol asked. ¡°Hmmm. An index of items. The sections that have been removed are¡­ all about extra-combat level up techniques.¡± Their leader looked around. There were three entrances to this room, including the way they came. But when Mikail and Gael tried one, they wound up traveling right back through the hallway they came to get here. ¡°Some sort of magical loop,¡± Jedd said. Gael nodded like he¡¯d been expecting this. ¡°True. Though these aren¡¯t supposed to appear until floor eighteen!¡± They had plenty of time on their hands. Karol and Calaf explored the books, while Mikail tried every possible combination of routes through the three hallways to no avail. Gael hmmmed and hawed and tried to puzzle out the intricacies of this trap they found themselves in. Jedd remained characteristically alert.
More time passed. ¡°Hmm. Yes. I see,¡± Gael said. ¡°This is a door to the basement. Like a security vault mechanism, see? There simply must be a fourth exit we haven¡¯t found yet.¡± The party looked around the floor searching for some kind of trap door. Before they could tear out the carpets and throw over the desks and bookshelves, however, Jedd and Mikail suddenly turned all attention towards the hall they¡¯d come in through. ¡°Oh, what¡¯s this?¡± Came a sly, snakelike voice. ¡°Seems others have pierced through this far. Well, that just makes it more imperative to retreat.¡± A familiar figure entered the room with four other Cultivators of middling rank.
Name: Honest John, Humble Cult Leader
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 15
Status: 35/35 (No Longer Smiling)
Weapons: - Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife +5 (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20) - Poisoned Pristine Gunknife(x1) (Agl: 68, Arcane: 14)
¡°Gained a few more levels under your belt,¡± Jedd said, sword and shield ready. A few more levels, and greater than average HP gains. ¡°Been looking forward to this.¡± Honest John pointed his newly-refined Stabbing Knife at Calaf. ¡°Let us resume where we left off. But first¡­¡± Honest John stashed his Gunknife and pulled forth Bauble after Bauble. He used each in an instant.
Item: Miniscule Honeydew Level Up Bauble of Intelligence (x99) Description: Provides fifteen experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution heavily towards intelligence. Effect can stack.
Item: Medium Obsidian Level Up Bauble of Arcane (x50) Description: Provides fifty experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level up stat distribution stupendously towards Arcane. Effects can stack.
Item: Medium Silver Level Up Bauble of Charisma (x 4) Description: Provides fifty experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution towards Charisma. Effect can stack.
Item: Considerable Honeydew Level Up Bauble of Intelligence (x1) Description: Provides 200 experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution heavily towards intelligence. Effect can stack.
And lastly¡­
Item: Gargantuan Obsidian Level Up Bauble of Arcane (x6) Description: Provides 5,000 experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level up stat distribution stupendously towards Arcane. Effects can stack.
Level ups registered in the Menu rapidly. Until¡­
Honest John Leveled Up! 35!
Strength: 50 (+20)
Endurance: 55 (+38)
Agility: 99~ (+???)
Intelligence: 99~ (+???)
Charisma: 80 (+40)
Arcane: 99~ (+???)
Luck: 66 (+12)
The not-so-honest John must have been downing his entire stash of level up baubles in preparation for this moment. Some stats had increased so much in just a few levels that 99 was but a placeholder for a much higher stat. They weren¡¯t supposed to rise that far, that fast! He pulled both knives out again, ready to fight:
Name: Honest John, Humble Cult Leader
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 35
Status: 85/85 (No Longer Smiling)
Weapons: - Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife +5 (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20) - Poisoned Pristine Gunknife(x1) (Agl: 68, Arcane: 14)
¡°Heretic!¡± Jedd pointed his sword at the ringleader. ¡°What do you have to stand to gain from all this?¡± ¡°Profit, originally,¡± John answered honestly, with a shrug. ¡°Found these things down in a forgotten storage space. But then, well, when people found out you didn¡¯t have to go through the whole song and dance and combat of the church¡¯s holy tourism circuit. Well, people kind of worshiped me as a god. Guess I went from pursuit of profit to just a regular prophet, eh?¡± For the briefest of seconds, Honest John got his joyless smile back. ¡°Oh, it wasn¡¯t supposed to become this whole movement. But we acquired a¡­ benefactor.¡± ¡°Just put him in irons, brother!¡± Karol said, with gusto. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯ll be heroes. Get statues of ourselves at the Grand Cathedral at the Demon Lord¡¯s Fall!¡± ¡°You want to arrest me?¡± John made a point of stashing his knives and offering his hands briefly. ¡°Excommunicate me? Throw me down an oubliette, never to see the inside of the Church¡¯s blessed crypts? I suspect your church will be gone before I am, if our benefactors have any say in things.¡± ¡°Fool. You defile the names of the old heroes! They didn¡¯t use any shortcuts on their journey.¡± Honest John tilted his head. ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure. It¡¯s a period of reformation, brave knight. Perhaps you should reconsider the church tales of your youth, hmm?¡± Some of the other Cultivators eyed a carpet conspicuously under a table near the corner. That must be their trap door. The way out. ¡°Don¡¯t let them through!¡± Jedd ordered. Fierce combat ensued. Gael, Mikail, and Calaf started with the lesser Cultivators in the flanks while Jedd and his sister went toe to toe with Honest John Himself. ¡°Ah, I wanted to deal with the Riverglen brat,¡± John said. ¡°Get over here¡­¡± Before any spell incantation could be cast, Jedd threw him off balance with a shield bash. ¡°Face me, fiend!¡± Karol, meanwhile, summoned forth buffs upon her brother¡¯s sword and shield. It was a series of one-on-ones to start. Mikail dispatched his target first, then went to help Gael. Calaf withstood the attack from his own foe, his defense holding steady.
Honest John¡¯s guards went down without much of a reaction from their leader. His eye was still on the prize: That trapdoor under the carpet in the corner. ¡°Well, now that the pawns are out of the way¡­¡± John held his finger aloft.
Spell: Bullet Lightning
Effect: Deals Stupendous Lightning Damage At a Target Within Finger-Gun Range. (INT: 75, ARC: 99)
Description: Short-Range Recommended.
With his finger pointing dead center at Karol, Honest John let loose. The thundercrack proved deafening in such close quarters. Karol was sent flying into a bookshelf. Even her interface was obscured by a rain of tomes. Calaf at this point had run a Cultivator through with his spear. He kicked the hapless corpse off the spearhead and rushed to Karols¡¯ side.
Name: Karol of the Olde Capital
Rank: Crimson Mage
Level 64
Status: 22/256 (Electro-shock)
Weapons: - Quilfeather Rapier +3 (x1) - Auxillary Quilfeather Dagger (x1)
¡°Are you okay!?¡± Calaf reached out and received a shock to his hand. Her health ticked down as she involuntarily flinched. This electro-shock status¡­ it could not be cleansed with Purification. Calaf tried an Intermediate Heal to no effect; healing was reduced. No doubt a cause of this status¡­ There had to be another way to get her out of these doldrums - another hit could cost Karol her life! ¡°How much experience do you need to level up?¡± Calaf asked. Karol held out three fingers. ¡°Just three?¡± So close! ¡°Wait. There has to be something we can do¡­¡± What would a certain someone do in this situation? Fight dirty. Cheese things. Ah, that relic thief was rubbing off on him. A corpse hit the bookshelf next to them. One of the Cultivators, dashed away by Gael¡¯s mallet. ¡°One moment!¡± Calaf got to looting. He pulled out¡­
Item: Miniscule Colorless Level Up Bauble (x1) Description: Provides fifteen experience points to a single target when used.
A trade menu opened up lightning fast. Karol took it and, still twitching from the shock, used the item. Level up! With all the stat boosts that entailed. The Interface displayed her health, newly healed. And her level, now 65!
Name: Karol of the Olde Capital
Rank: Crimson Mage
Level 65
Status: 262/262 (Second Wind!)
Weapons: - Quilfeather Rapier +3 (x1) - Auxillary Quilfeather Dagger (x1)
A tower-shield shaped shadow loomed over them. ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± Karol said. ¡°Brother, I¡¯m ready to go.¡± But Jedd merely scowled. Using a banned heretical bauble to save his sister¡­ Calaf hadn¡¯t thought about what the noble and forthright Paladin would think of such an act. A certain apostate really had rubbed off on the Squire! ¡°Behind you!¡± Honest John held another finger aloft. Gael rushed to flank the merchant of questionable repute, only to receive a shot from John¡¯s Poisoned Pristine Gunknife. The old soldier stumbled back, dropping his mallet near the trapdoor. Again, Honest John pointed his finger at the Paladin, Squire, and Crimson Mage. That smile of his was back in an ear-to-ear toothy grimace that obliterated his cheekbones. For the first time since that chance encounter with Calaf back in Port Town, it had spread to Honest John¡¯s eyes.
Spell: Hellflare VIII
Effect: Deals Unfathomable Molten Scorching Fire Damage To Everything in Sight. (INT: 99 ARC: 99)
Description: WARNING: DO NOT USE IN CLOSE QUARTERS.
Jedd of the Olde Capital, Paladin, looked once more upon Calaf with an uneasy frown. Then he looked to a newly healed yet imperiled Karol and his grimace grew more resolute. He turned, Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 planted firmly in the ground. A miniature sun broiled at the tip of Honest John¡¯s left pointer finger¡­ Chapter Forty-Four: Battle Without Initiative Order or Humanity
Hellflare VIII started as a marble-sized pinprick at Honest John¡¯s finger and expanded rapidly. Light flooded the chamber, followed by an all-pervasive heat. Jedd held the shield with both hands, his Banded Boots of Fireproofing smoldering as the flare grew ever wider. And somewhere amidst the miniature star, there was a manic, unhinged cackling. Over in the far corner, Gael threw up a barrier with some magic on instinct. A moving blurr jumped up to the ceiling as Mikail fled rather than face obliteration. Not a shadow filled the room, aside from the wide block directly behind Jedd¡¯s Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2. Calaf¡¯s hand fell outside the shadow and was immediately brought reeling back. The gauntlet was fried black and smoldering, racking up a paltry loss of HP and a ¡®Burn¡¯ status. The cooler shadowed zone shrunk as the flare caught the floor on fire. Still, Jedd stood firm. His shield was pushed back slowly, raking along the floor. Soon even the shaded area was smoldering. Karol crawled back against the wall, only to find it was scalding as well. As the flare grew to encompass the entire center of the room, both the shield and its wielder appeared only in silhouette, gradually fading into the blinding light. Karol crawled forward on her hands and knees but was held back by Calaf. Hellflare released a miniature star¡¯s worth of pent-up energy all at once. Only the corner masked by the shield, Gael¡¯s barely functioning barrier, and some alcoves in the ceiling remained unscorched. When it was over, fires raged throughout the room. But none of the books burned. Indeed, smoldering desks and floorboards rapidly extinguished under the Battletower¡¯s magical anti-siege blessings. The Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 remained, its 100% fire defense rating having stood firm and true. There was a noticeable discoloring in the area behind the shield where its defense had at least partially spared Calaf and Karol. Their armor was damaged but their HP was still within a healthy range. But there, too close to the shield, too close to the flare¡¯s epicenter, was a pair of Banded Boots of Fireproofing. Their fire resistance had stood firm despite it all. So immolated was Paladin Jedd that there wasn¡¯t even a Menu designation left to describe his status. Ash pooled in the boots, while a thin layer of soot covered the space between the shield and the far wall. Soot that caked over Calaf¡¯s shoulder and most of Karol¡¯s body. The Longsword of Duran +4 lay melted in a puddle on the floor. Its hilt was the only part remotely recognizable.
The carpets had all burnt away in the flare¡¯s light. A trapdoor in the far corner collapsed in on itself, the only structural damage to speak of. ¡°I can summon another with five seconds casting time,¡± Honest John said. ¡°Is anyone alive back there? Come now.¡± Calaf emerged with his own, far less fire-resistant shield held in front of him. ¡°What are you?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Just a humble treasure hunter, curio collector,¡± said John. ¡°Nobody important. Got a contract to poke around some ruins and find relics, ah, outside the church¡¯s zone of influence. So I haggled for some looted relics from Granite Pass on a lark. A little tinkering helped me find these Baubles in storage. And, well, that¡¯s when the benefactors truly got interested.¡± ¡°For who? What benefactors?¡± Honest John shrugged. ¡°Some noble type. Not my problem. Poke your head out from behind that shield and it won¡¯t be your problem either.¡± The humble merchant/cult leader/curio collector took a lateral step towards the trapdoor. Calaf made three great strides to block his path. Karol, meanwhile, reached out, futilely, towards her brother''s shield. ¡°Lick your wounds.¡± Honest John motioned towards Karol in the corner. ¡°Yield,¡± Calaf growled. He¡¯d killed ¨C nay, disintegrated ¨C a Paladin twenty-plus levels his senior with a single spell! Honest John¡¯s hit points were not so high, but what could Calaf truly hope to accomplish? ¡°You can get out of the way, or I can cast another Hellflare,¡± Honest John said. Rather than give the merchant the chance to cast anything, Calaf lunged. He jabbed with his spear, then thrust his shield forward. Ever nimble, Honest John did a dive-roll past Calaf¡¯s spear. Calaf swiveled, jabbing and swinging horizontally to try and smack John. He got a lucky hit in and threw John off-balance with a swipe to the knee! Pressing the advantage, he tried another shield bash, only to find John rolling aside, two fingers pointing and thumb angled up.
Spell: Bullet Lightning
Effect: Deals Stupendous Lightning Damage At a Target Within Finger-Gun Range. (INT: 75, ARC: 99)
Description: Short-Range Recommended.
Calaf held his shield up, only for the Bullet Lightning to splinter the shield and keep going. He regained his senses embedded in another bookshelf, sending tomes and scrolls cascading this way and that. His muscles seized up as some deep-burrowing electric current coursed through him.
Name: Calaf, Crusader
Rank: Squire
Level 40
Status: 96/120 (Electro-Shock)
¡°Get¡­¡± Calaf went through a full-body convulsion. ¡°¡­ Back here.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. But Honest John merely walked towards the trapdoor, flashing another joyless smile at the shock-paralyzed squire. C¡¯mon. Move. Try as he might, Calaf couldn¡¯t rise to his feet. Who else was still in the fight? Gael? Crumpled up on the floor, his barrier only having barely blocked Hellflare VIII. Mikhail? Disappeared into some alcove in the ceiling. ¡°I¡¯ll find you.¡± Calaf spat, still shocked. Honest John stopped. ¡°Oh? Ah, well, might as well fry you all with another flare then¡­¡± He turned, but the counterattack did not come from Calaf¡¯s side. Instead, Karol rushed up behind John, having looted Gael¡¯s dropped Mage¡¯s Overlarge Melee Club from off the floor. She held it one-handed, Strength stats be damned, beating John upside the head and throwing him to the floor. Then, she clambered on top of him and swung again and again. Taking off twenty HP for a broken jaw, eight HP with a distorted eye socket, ten HP and the whole right side of his face began to sag like melting wax. A mighty war cry, unintelligible babbling, came from Karol as she struck Honest John¡¯s face. With a snap of his fingers, Honest John summoned forth:
Spell: Miniflare
Effect: Fills a Modestly Sized Room with Blinding Light. Deals Minimal Damage.
Description: Perfect for Close Quarters. A Useful Distraction.
Blinding light filled the room, during which Honest John was able to kick Karol off of him. Calaf shielded his eyes from the light and hazarded a look just as the flare wound down. Honest John had by then stumbled over to the trap door and gave a look back, revealing the cratered remains of his face.
Name: Honest John, Humble Cult Leader
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 35
Status: 37/85 (Degloved)
Weapons: - Merchant¡¯s Ordinary Stabbing Knife +5 (x1) (Str: 2, Agl: 20) - Poisoned Pristine Gunknife(x1) (Agl: 68, Arcane: 14)
Breathing heavily, Honest John dived down the trapdoor. ¡°He¡¯s getting away,¡± Karol cried out, anguished, and ran after him with the Melee Club in hand. Calaf took a deep breath. His Effect Resistance took hold, dispelling the Shock status prematurely. He rose and joined Karol in the chase.
Bullet Lightning flew down the hall at Honest John¡¯s back. Being blind-fired, it was hardly accurate and barely a deterrent. Karol and Calaf ran, club and spear in hand. Honest John was down to half a face and less than half his HP. He was heading into the Battletower¡¯s basement storage areas. Surely there was no place to run and nowhere to hide. ¡°¡­ killed my brother!¡± were the only coherent words out of Karol¡¯s mouth in some time. With no shield left, Calaf¡¯s role as a defensive wall was hampered. Still, if he could just get his spear within thrusting range¡­ Honest John turned a corner. When Karol and Calaf followed, they found a locked door. Still screaming incoherently, Karol took to this door with the mallet. The hinges buckled, but the wood shattered before they did. An oblong archway with a blue keystone above waited along the far wall. Instead of leading back into another underground hallway, it displayed an evening scene of dense forest. Sunset reflected off the golden leaves. Honest John was there, framed in the center of this scene, within reach but seemingly with one foot already stepped out elsewhere. Karol bellowed out a roaring ¡°Stop!¡± Just then, the outdoorsy scene between the archways seemed to shrink and grow dimmer all at once. He was getting away! With no time to rush up there and drag John back in, Calaf assumed a stance:
Special Technique: Thrown Spear Effect: Chuck Your Spear at An Enemy (Not Recommended Mid-Fight!)
His Steel Spear O¡¯ The Plains, a trusted ally all these many weeks, flew straight and true. It hit Honest John straight in the midsection, scoring a critical hit.
Name: Honest John, Humble Cult Leader
Rank: Trailblazer
Level 35
Status: 2/85 (Degloved, Crippled Hip Bone, Impaled)
Staggering down on both knees, Honest John crawled to safety through the portal. He looked up at Calaf, the busted half of his face warped in some rough approximation of a smile. ¡°No!¡± Calaf ran up and lunged, his burnt gauntlet balled up in a fist. The portal archway closed, giving way only to a cold stone wall. Calaf hit nothing but rock, breaking his hand.
Name: Calaf, Crusader
Rank: Squire
Level 40
Status: 92/120 (Crippled Off-Hand)
¡°We were so close,¡± Calaf said, gritting his teeth through the pain. ¡°He got away.¡± Karol fell to her knees. At two HP, but still alive. He¡¯d level up or pop a healing item or spell in time, then John¡¯d be back in action to down prodigious numbers of level-up baubles again and cultivate even harder next time. ¡°And he¡¯s got my spear!¡± Calaf yelled, biting his tongue for another 1 HP damage. ¡°Damnit!¡±
The pair were left there, Karol sobbing and Calaf failing to maintain a chivalrous mindset. If he¡¯d gotten his hands around Honest John¡¯s neck¡­ Half-broken shield. No spear. At least he still had a knife. There was no rest or time to recuperate. Footsteps down the hall commanded the pair¡¯s attention. They turned and prepared to face fleeing cultivators or whatever else was down here in the college basement, with what little weapons they happened to have available. What entered the portal room, though was not a horde of low-level stat-manipulators, but a group of heavily armored Paladins and Clerics straight from one of the cathedrals. At their head was a man in full demon-bone plate armor. He scanned the room, lips in a perfectly neutral thin line. ¡°You two seem better equipped than these rebels.¡± This man¡¯s interface designated him as:
Name: General Perarde, Arbiter of the Church, Hammer of Faith
Rank: Paladin Exemplar
Level: 95
Status: 25568/25568 (Indomitable)
Weapons: - Claymore of Gold (x1) - Shield of Impenetrable Defense +15 (x1)
¡°You¡¯re¡­¡± Calaf managed. ¡°A church arbiter¡­¡± No, the church arbiter. The Hammer of Faith, the Paladin all other knights strived to emulate. Highest level among currently active church folk, even higher than the Archpope! A grizzled man of about fifty or so with close-cut white and jet-black hair, he gazed upon Calaf, then Karol, without paying them much heed. ¡°I see he got away.¡± Paladin Perarde looked to the archway. ¡°Pity. But he¡¯s just a patsy. We have top-level Battlemages storming the dungeon proper even now and putting these apostates to the sword without quarter. The remains of this unauthorized ¡®cultivating¡¯ operation will be dealt with in this region.¡± Again, Perarde looked to Calaf. ¡°And you two are?¡± His sword hand twitched. ¡°They¡¯re with us!¡± Mikail said, running in behind the General. ¡°I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d send a church arbiter.¡± Calaf was too exhausted to panic. Perarde looked upon the scene implacably. Impossible to read. A far cry from the disinterested but ruthless Baldr or the sociopathically stoic Walter. Gael, too, limped onto the scene. ¡°They¡¯re with us, good sir. Part of our sellsword company. Or were, before our leader tanked a Hellflare point blank. Suppose there¡¯ll be no keeping the party together after that.¡± ¡°We were¡­ just supposed to climb the Batletower.¡± Karol rasped, hugging her torso with her arms. ¡°It was just supposed to be a simple mop-up to get some hinterland brigands to repent for some extra coin. Then we¡¯d have time to climb the tower¡­¡± Utterly disinterested in Karol, Perarde just looked at Calaf instead. ¡°I¡¯ve read a report about you.¡± Calaf¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°You have?¡± Who could have sent that? Baldr? What did it say? ¡°Reports of every official church mission cross by my desk. A mere Shielder at the start of this pilgrimage season, sent north from the Riverglen Cathedral in search of some relic thieves. And you managed to recover most of these relics and track the thief as far as conceivably possible for your rank. Your career will be watched with great interest. We may yet have use for you in this campaign. Not at this battlefield but¡­¡± Again, Perarde looked to the portal archway. ¡°Autumn¡¯s Redoubt.¡± Karol¡¯s voice was hoarse. ¡°He¡¯s at Autumn¡¯s Redoubt.¡± Perarde nodded in a way that indicated he already knew. ¡°Well,¡± he said with a tenor like gravel. ¡°Come, you may stay among my officer¡¯s tents for the night.¡± The Hammer of Faith, first among the church arbiters, left the room with a retinue of knights, out to secure the remainder of the Battletower¡¯s lower levels. Calaf, Gael, and Mikail were left to get Karol off the floor and help her walk the long route back outside.
Chapter Forty-Five: Brief Interregnum Between Two Chaotic Eras
Sounds of combat wafted out of the highest floors of the Battletower. Many lower-level converts and the countless pilgrims led astray by this charlatan were holed up in the proper ¡®dungeon¡¯ tower. And the core army of ranking church Paladins and Clerics slowly, room-by-room cleared it out. Experienced Battlemages led the charge; it was their home turf after all. Paladin Perarde, ranking church authority responding to this heresy, cast a special Paladin-exclusive spell:
General Perarde Casts:
Spell: Greater Hush
Effect: Brings Silence to a Battlefield. Renders Spellcasting Null And Magic-Based Traps Inert. Also Stops Most Forms of Healing. Continuous Healing Over Time and Damage Over Time Not Affected. Lasts for Three Hours.
Description: It is said that when the Priestess Mia saw the price paid to slay the Demon King, she would neither speak nor make noise again until the holy twins were born. ¡°¡­¡±
All at once even the arid hinterland¡¯s scant dire-insect life seemed to quiet down. When the spell designated that it would ¡®bring silence to the battlefield¡¯ it was no exaggeration ¨C a great quiet fell over the entire Battletower. Camp was established at the far edge of the foothills ¨C out of range of any wayward magic or more conventional artillery from the higher levels, but well within range of that hush field. There was a massive medical tent, mended together from every city militia¡¯s church contingent of healers, deacons, and clerics. Some patients sat there, receiving vestigial healing courtesy of regeneration spells still working despite the blanket of silence. For others, meanwhile, they received what bandages they could for now, alongside fervent prayers that they didn¡¯t need anything more extensive for the next few hours. It was in this environment that Calaf stepped in to discover Deaconess Charlotte mending Karol of the Olde Capital¡¯s burns and scuffs the old-fashioned way. The Squire held back, partially out of respect and privacy, partly wondering what even-keeled spiritual guidance his betrothed would offer. ¡°You were¡­ a companion of my beloved Calaf?¡± Charlotte asked. Sniffling and with her voice barely audible, Karol responded. ¡°Yes. We were members of the same party. He signed on with my, well, my brother¡­¡± Charlotte¡¯s face was neutral. She wrapped a bandage around a scalded bit of Karol¡¯s right hand a bit too tight. The poor Crimson Mage flinched. ¡°I see. Well, it sounds like quite a harrowing ordeal,¡± Charlotte said softly. ¡°It was incredibly lucky that he survived.¡± ¡°My¡­ brother.¡± Karol¡¯s head drooped. ¡°There was nothing¡­ nothing...¡± ¡°Oh, the other Paladin,¡± Charlotte said absentmindedly. ¡°Yes, it is said he was disintegrated so thoroughly that there was nothing left.¡± ¡°Not even his Brand remained.¡± Karol whimpered. Charlotte nodded sagely, finishing off the last bandage roll. ¡°Yes. Without a Brand, well, he cannot be commended to the crypts. With no remains to consecrate, well, scriptures are clear. There¡¯s simply no way for your brother to ever come back.¡± Karol¡¯s whimpering turned to sobbing. ¡°Indeed.¡± Charlotte¡¯s tone of voice remained soft. ¡°Without consecration, that¡¯s truly the end. There¡¯s nothing left.¡± Sobbing turned to bawling. ¡°What¡¯s the point? Of being buried in the crypts? Of awakening one day, if it¡¯s not¡­ if he¡¯s not¡­¡± ¡°But you see.¡± Charlotte took another roll of bandages and wound them tight around Karol¡¯s Branded arm. ¡°Though you may never see your brother again, and he is denied paradise forever¡­. There may yet be some role you can serve for the church.¡± Charlotte left this statement to hang in the air as she noticed Calaf lingering near the tent flap. In an instant, her expression turned from neutral and plain to smiling softly. ¡°Ah, hello, my love. I was just finishing up.¡± Charlotte shot a split-second glance at Karol, still sobbing, and rose to meet Calaf just outside her ward. ¡°What were you saying?¡± Calaf cocked his head, curious. ¡°Oh, just¡­ letting the poor dear know that there will be other duties by which she can refocus after this loss, and better serve the Church.¡± Charlotte leaned in close. ¡°Oh, I did miss you, my darling Squire. Yes, you fought well, to put those heretics to the sword.¡± ¡°Not well enough.¡± Calaf sighed. All of a sudden fatigue caught up to Calaf. The day¡¯s pitched battle had taken its toll. The Deaconess moved in to hug him, stopped only by her Clerical modesty. ¡°Oh, dear Calaf. Worry not. You did exactly what was necessary. Exactly what faith demands. Exactly what I require of you.¡± ¡°I hope so.¡± Calaf paused. ¡°Is¡­ Karol in there?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Her?¡± Charlotte¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she glanced sideways past the medical tent¡¯s thick fabric. ¡°What of her? She is¡­ stable.¡± ¡°I was hoping to hand her some personal effects.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± Charlotte said. ¡°I shall await your return here.¡±
Karol continued to sob uncontrollably. She looked at Calaf with swollen, puffy eyes. ¡°Are Mikail and Gael there?¡± she managed. ¡°They haven¡¯t been by?¡± ¡°This whole time I¡¯ve been with.. with¡­¡± Karol bawled in place of the deaconess¡¯ name. ¡°Maybe¡­ maybe they¡¯re busy.¡± Calaf sat down beside Karol. It hardly took a master thief¡¯s Agility to perceive a pair of eyes staring at them through a gap in the tent¡¯s fabric. ¡°We wanted to give you this.¡± Calaf pulled out a trade request.
Calaf ¡¤ Melted Metal of A Broken Longsword (x1) ¡¤ Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 (x1) ¡¤ Gold (x36000) To: Karol ¡¤ None
¡°The remains of Jedd¡¯s sword¡­¡± Karol said. ¡°And his shield. Also¡­ the payment for the sellsword party. Both yours and Jedd¡¯s.¡± ¡°T-thank you,¡± Karol managed, knees in her chest. ¡°But¡­ keep the shield. Please.¡± Karol accepted the gold and remains of the longsword. She traded the shield back. ¡°Thank you.¡± Calaf had been without a weapon and shield since the battle, but any bit of equipment would help. Wordlessly, Calaf bowed to Karol. He left her to her grief and to nurse her wounds, and returned to Charlotte.
Back outside the tent, the deaconess was waiting. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ saying that there¡¯ll be another march. General Perarde has a new target up north. Further than Firefield. Ah, and that bastard still needs that grin wiped off the remaining half of his face.¡± Calaf¡¯s hands balled into fists, trembling in their gauntlets. Charlotte placed two gloved hands upon them. ¡°There, there. It is no sin to smite the wicked. Neither is there any shame in dying in the defense of the church, your body laid to rest in the crypts for that blessed day.¡± The pair touched their foreheads together. ¡°Yes, go with Sir Perarde.¡± Charlotte squeezed his hands. ¡°There would be no quest better suited for a Squire. To learn the path of chivalry from the Hammer of Faith. You¡¯ll return to Riverglen exactly how I want you, my dear~¡± Charlotte leaned forward and planted a kiss to Calaf¡¯s cheek. The Squire gasped. And on Charlotte¡¯s Interface:
Name: Charlotte, Deaconess, Most Holy Church of the Menu
Rank: Cleric
Level: 48
Status: 500/500 (Kiss-Stealer!)
The holy deaconess had been marked! All would know about this kiss. ¡°I shall wear this status as a mark of pride,¡± declared the Deaconess. ¡°Surely even a Cleric must be allowed a lapse in judgment in this moment of passion.¡± Calaf held a hand up to his cheek. It was still warm. ¡°Go, dear Calaf.¡± Charlotte glanced away, demure. ¡°Continue your journey. Uphold chivalry for the good of the church.¡± Calaf grimaced. He felt the urge to march on, further than he¡¯d ever traveled along the pilgrimage route before. But he also really wanted to just return to Riverglen with Charlotte at this point. Charlotte smiled. ¡°Do it, Calaf. Go. Just as I say, without question.¡± ¡°Will you be coming with?¡± ¡°Soon.¡± Charlotte closed her eyes. ¡°I must remain here, tending to and grooming my patient for the next phase of what is to come. But go. If we do not meet again at Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, I shall return to Riverglen and await your arrival as long as it takes. Our betrothal shall be completed just as soon as you return, my dear!¡± Calaf leaned in. ¡°Oh.¡± Charlotte held her hands up to her cheeks. ¡°There¡¯s no need for you too to bear this status. Why, if we both walk back into the camp marked as kiss-stealers, why, people will talk¡­¡±
Jedd had carried the group¡¯s Campsite items. It was part and parcel of being the party leader. With him gone, leadership duties technically fell to Karol, who was in no position to exercise that authority. Karol had swapped this role over to Mikail before she had been sent to medical. The team Vanguard had promptly disbanded the party. ¡°Aye, they want me to stay here, lad.¡± Gael huffed and puffed at his private campsite. ¡°Come tomorrow I shall continue to clear out the higher floors of the Battletower. There are so many trap doors and false walls that people can be hiding out there for months. Even years!¡± ¡°I see.¡± Calaf exhaled. ¡°Mikail took his pay and said he¡¯d head back towards Port Town after paying Karol a visit.¡± ¡°Stopped by the tent. That deaconess was still tending to her. Didn¡¯t seem to like being disturbed.¡± ¡°Tell her I sent you,¡± Calaf said, blushing at the thought of Charlotte¡¯s impromptu kiss. ¡°You got his shield?¡± Gael said after a time. Calaf opened his Inventory:
Item: Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2 (x1) Description: A Tower Shield of Finest Craftmanship. Granting 100% Physical and 100% Fire Resistance. 50% to All Other Resistances. The Front-End is Scuffed and Charred from a Hellflare. Perhaps its Next Owner Will Have Better Luck? (Requires: 40 STR, 65 END)
Gael let out an impressed whistle. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s just within your stat range, eh? May it serve ye well.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Calaf said, tired. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll make him proud.¡±
Calaf did not Use a campsite that night. He did not have time for a proper sleep, instead just resting his eyes. The field of silence wore off after a time, during which proper healing magic could be applied to the many injured. The medical tent was once more abuzz with Clerics of all sorts, and Calaf dared not try to visit Charlotte again. Before dawn, a line of Paladins all level sixty and above assembled at the north edge of camp. Smoke rose from the Battletower¡¯s higher floors as the cleanup continued apace. But there at the edge of the foothills stood Perarde, Hammer of Faith. ¡°Good. I was going to send out a direct holy summons ordering you to come,¡± Perarde said. ¡°But it seems we have a volunteer.¡± The General stood looking north, silhouetted by the burning tower. ¡°Fall in line. There¡¯ll be room in the back row.¡± Again, Perarde did not look at Calaf. ¡°Oh, and we¡¯ll be stopping briefly at a mountain supply depot on the way. Get an at-level spear while we¡¯re there.¡± ¡°Where are we going?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°To Fort Duran of course.¡± Perarde paused for Calaf to soak it in. ¡°Once we¡¯ve cleansed it of heresy, you should grab a dozen pieces of Rampart Rubble from atop the keep. It¡¯ll save you a great deal of effort when it comes time to reclass. The heart of this heresy has not yet been hunted down. But my fellow Church Arbiters are on the trail. No mortal ever withstands our might for long.¡± ¡°How¡­ how may I help?¡± Calaf asked. Perhaps if this could be ended quickly and soon, there would be less suffering. And of course, he wanted to get his gauntlets around Honest John¡¯s throat. Perarde seemed to sense his thoughts. ¡°This front was for patsies and small fry. A minor skirmish in the grand scheme of things. Elements of the old nobility seek to foment a far larger rebellion. But, if we can decapitate their leadership¡­ well, perhaps we can enforce the Church¡¯s will more subtly.¡± A fresh explosion bloomed from atop the Battletower. Free of the magic-nullifying field, it seems these aspiring Cultivators were still resisting. ¡°Once the initial hammer blows force everything into place, more gentle taps can occasionally be required. That is what I hope to use you for, as it stands...¡± Another Squire approached from the direction of the tower. ¡°Sir, the Port Town church contingent wishes to confirm your orders for surrender-¡± ¡°No quarter,¡± Perarde said simply. ¡°Apostasy has consequences, and rebels must pay the price. Collect all heretical baubles that can be found for transport to the Southern Spire Monastery.¡± ¡°Sir, there are-¡± ¡°No quarter,¡± Perarde repeated with calm and collected tenor. ¡°Everyone else, move out.¡± Calaf quickly fell into line in the sole remaining open space at the formation¡¯s end. He was alone, the sole level 40 next to identical level 60+ Paladins in the full plate armor of the furthest north pilgrimage stations of the Olde Capital and Fellmarsh.
Chapter Forty-Six: Surprisingly Pleasant Forced March
Gone were the Riverglen and free sellsword companies, remaining near the Battletower and the hinterlands. Groman, Charlotte, Gael, and Karol were all left behind in the camp, standing guard outside the tower to ensure none could escape. Calaf was the lowest-level member in a column full of level sixty and above Paladins in full armor. He was duly aware that he lacked a spear now, his trusty throwing spear having been embedded in Honest John¡¯s torso. But at his ally¡¯s level ranges his combat prowess would not be required. It was a small column of elite church forces, all reliably loyal to General Perarde. With the Hammer of Faith at the head of the column, Calaf seldom got an opportunity to even see the Paladin-Arbiter. But the group was relatively small, nimble despite their high-level heavy armor and more than willing to follow Perarde on the trail. On this last point, Calaf was fully expecting to march from sunup to sundown for days, and maybe even overnight, on a forced march. To that end, things were quite pleasant. For level fifty or so Troubadours wandered about up and down the line, strumming on lyres and fiddles or blowing into flutes. Merrily, these low-tier bards ensured that a bevy of buffs were always in play.
Various Bards Cast: Song of Speed Effect: Increases Walking Speed for All Allies in Range.
Various Bards Cast: Song of Plenty Effect: Provides Sustenance To All Allies in Range. Prevents Dehydration and Starvation Status Effects.
Various Bards Cast: Song of Awakening Effect: Provides Boundless Energy to All Allies in Range. Prevents Sleep Deprivation Status Effects.
Troubadours jumped about in the wings. Bard magic was indeed handy, conferring benefits not covered by any Cleric, Battlemage, or Paladin-type spells. They traveled north through the hinterlands, along some foothills, and back into the western plains. There, they stopped for Perarde to slay the Dire-worm in a quick bout of single combat. Onward they marched, bypassing the Delta entirely and navigating some twisting badlands that served as a buffer between the arid plains and the fiery desert. This route kept them above the scorching sands. Firefield appeared during the night, a dim glow on the far-eastern horizon. Still, they marched, experiencing neither fatigue nor thirst. They walked all night. When the sun finally began to rise in the east, they¡¯d just reached an expanse of deciduous forest sloping gently higher to the north. These broad-leafed trees were colored in many hues of gold, red, yellow, and brown, and stretched far into the northern horizon. The group continued marching until they reached a minor alpine trading post.
Autumn¡¯s Redoubt was sparsely populated. Its unique microclimate kept its dense forest in a continuous approximation of fall. This did not suit it particularly well for farming or ranching. It was hard to grow crops when it was perpetually harvesting season and never growing season. There were a few taps for turpentine and syrup visible on the approach to the trading post and even on trees within the outpost itself. Perarde dismissed his Paladins and Clerics for a scant few hours. Not because of fatigue on their part or anything, but because the Troubadours needed some well-earned rest. With three hours to himself, Calaf first approached the trading post¡¯s lone shop. He took a quick look at his cold coffers.
Gold: x67800
Whew. That was quite the haul. It included the bounty received and split with the party after the Battletower. And with a fresh shield in hand, it would be more than enough to acquire some at-level armor and a spear for the region. The trading post was more just a series of huts and a depot. It wasn¡¯t even on the pilgrimage route. But it did trade a fair bit with merchants trying to skirt around the desert. And for this reason, they had an ample supply of weapons
Item: Shortsword of Duran x4 (10000 gold) Description: A Short Sword in Style of the Knights of Fort Duran Du Loc. (Req: 16 STR, 21 AGL, 10 CHR)
Item: Longsword of Duran x4 (26000 Gold) Description: A Long Sword in the Style of the Knights of Fort Duran Du Loc (Req: 42 STR, 34 AGL, 15 CHR)
Item: Autumnal Woodman¡¯s Axe (Enchanted) x1 (32000 gold) Description: Enchanted Wood Axe of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. (Req: 58 STR, 44 END)
Item: Duran¡¯s Flag-Spear x1 (38000 gold) Description: Flag Regalia and Accompanying Spear of Fort Duran Du Loc. (Req: 48 STR, 68 AGL, 45 CHR)
Calaf frowned. That was pricy, and the stat allocation didn¡¯t quite mesh with his current distribution; too many points were required for Charisma and Agility. ¡°Do you have any spears or lances for slightly lower level?¡± The quartermaster sighed and pulled up a second backlog list containing all the various types of spears between Autumn¡¯s Redoubt and Riverglen. Basic Iron Spear was there for a whopping five gold. A Steel Spear o¡¯ the Plains was there for a bit north of a thousand. And at the very top of the list, sorted by location and price, was¡­This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Item: Redstone Spear of the Desert Nomads x12 (8000 gold) Description: A Spear with a Hardened Redstone Tip Common to the Ancient Desert Oasis-Hoppers.
¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± Calaf pulled up the trading window and provided the gold straight from his Inventory. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± said the quartermaster. Then, ¡°If you¡¯re in a church arbiter¡¯s regiment you probably want some heavier armor¡­¡± And so, the quartermaster presented his armor wares:
Item: Mail of Duran (x4) (25000 gold) Description: Heavy Banded Mail from Fort Duran. Typically Used By Paladins and Aspiring Paladins. (Req: Endurance 60)
Item: Desert Silken Mail (x2) (18000 gold) Description: Desert-Forged Mail Under Silklike Threads. Offers Lesser Defense than Other Tank-Oriented Armors, but Boosts Agility
Items: Swamp-Wanderers Knight¡¯s Armor (x1) (14000 gold) Description: Armor Designed to Keep Even Fully-Equipped Knights from Accidentally Sinking in the Delta Swamps.
¡°First one, please.¡± Calaf already plopped his gold into the trading window. Now fully equipped for a walkabout in Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, Calaf took stock of what else he needed. His inventory read 34,800 gold. Just enough for something else¡­ ¡°Do you have any spells? Specifically, those a beginning Squire of level forty may have?¡± Again, the quartermaster sighed. He didn¡¯t appear to get many customers going on a regular shopping spree at this time of year. Or ever. But he had wares all the same. ¡°Only got this,¡± said the merchant, and presented:
Item: Flaming Sword of Faith (x1) (15000 gold) Description: Sets Your Weapon Ablaze with Cleansing Flame. Works on Any Melee Implement (And Arrows) Not Just Swords. (Req: 25 Intelligence, 25 Charisma, 10 Arcane)
Ah, a perfect spell for immolating any unwanted guests. But it was out of Calaf¡¯s stat range now. Too much Charisma and Arcane. The Charisma stat should resolve itself in due time, but Arcane was a wilier beast. Even for mages, it liked to pop up randomly, or not at all for dozens of levels at a time. Still, Calaf didn¡¯t have to use it yet. He was preparing for the future, and both stats were just one particularly lucky level up away from fulfilling both requirements. Calaf handed over the gold. Now his coffers stood at 19,800 gold. Still respectable. He headed back towards the road cutting through this forested trading post. A tired-looking troubadour was next in line, shopping for some new songs to play.
General Perarde, Hammer of Faith and Paladin Exemplar stood on a rocky outcropping at an intersection some two miles past the outpost. He had no guards with him beyond a few other Paladins patrolling within ear and eyeshot. ¡°You¡¯re all kitted out.¡± Perarde looked south, sheathed sword planted point-down into the rock, gazing over a sea of trees sloping down towards the high desert. ¡°Good. Good. At-level armor is more important than a fully prepped weapon in this profession. You¡¯re learning quickly.¡± ¡°Thank you, Sir Perarde.¡± Calaf said, standing straight. ¡°Do you know how the trees got this way?¡± Perarde asked. Calaf looked to the sea of golds and reds along the path. ¡°Well, church sermons back in Riverglen said there was some kind of microclimate. Scholars at the Battletower and Clerics in Deepwood came up to study it sometimes.¡± Perarde gave a characteristically implacable half-shrug. ¡°That¡¯s what they say. Might have helped. The whole forest glows in the moonlight. It¡¯s subtle, but there¡¯s a halo on every leaf. Moon is waning now, but it should be back by the time you leave.¡± ¡°What did you request I come here?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°You¡¯ve had proper experience hunting and fighting apostates up and down the pilgrimage route. Why, one even killed your foster father, is that right?¡± ¡°That¡­ is true.¡± Calaf ruefully noted to himself that it had been so long that the kindly Pryor Yordan¡¯s face was not quite so clear in his mind any longer. ¡°So, you should have plenty of reason to wish to see this heresy put to the sword. Or spear, as it is.¡± ¡°Ah, but the Pryor wasn¡¯t killed by these Cultivators,¡± Calaf began. ¡°Would you not slay the one who so ruthlessly killed the godly pryor who raised you?¡± Trying to summon forth rage against Jelena proved futile, despite it all. Instead, Calaf mentally replaced her soft grin and eyepatch-clad visage with the snarky smile of Honest John. Now there was a face he could loathe ¨C what was left of it, anyway. ¡°I¡­ um, I would do my duty. Yes sir!¡± Perarde wasn¡¯t smiling. ¡°Very well. Come. This should illuminate the situation.¡± The pair walked up the pilgrimage path to another, larger outcropping. A miniature peak of a small mountain. And there, the pair had a perfect vantage over a tri-tower fortress and associated ramparts off the trail due north. Fort Duran Du Loc. Something of a holy place for those on the path of the Paladin. It was said that the sainted Paladin of Yore was stationed there in the ancient past and was used by the old heroes as a font of pro-human, anti-demon rebellion. Now, a fresh army camped out in and around this hallowed fortress. ¡°Riverglen and most of the southern stations are all run by the church,¡± Perarde said offhand. ¡°Cuts out the middleman between the flock and the Holy Menu¡¯s priests. But north of here, near the Olde Capital, there¡¯s still lords and ladies. All Branded, of course. But there¡¯s been¡­ friction, between old secular authority and the church of late.¡± Calaf looked out over the ramparts and the camp at the foot of Fort Duran. ¡°Are you sure we should be so close, sir?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°There is no danger wherever I happen to stand,¡± Perarde said simply. ¡°Of¡­ of course, sir.¡± ¡°That rabble down in the hinterlands were the ones who found the heretical leveling artifacts, yes. But up here, nearer to the centers of power ¨C that¡¯s where the actual threat manifests. Several units of the regular army have deserted, declaring for a lord who claims that the church¡¯s teachings, practices, the pilgrimage, are unnecessary at best. Why, even our crypt burials are derided as false. Do you recall a certain System Message to that effect?¡± ¡°Why me?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°What can I do against this heresy that you cannot?¡± For the first time since their march began, Perarde let out a chuckle. ¡°My soldiers and I are an infamous church arbiter and church auxiliaries of some renown. We¡¯d stick out like a sore thumb. But you¡­¡± The question hung in the air. Then, when Calaf did not respond: ¡°¡­ you, do not share our appearance, or discipline, or our training. But you are dependable. And you have proven your ability to resist heretical temptation in the past.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± ¡°Which is to say.¡± Perarde pulled up a trade window.
Perarde ¡¤ Bronze Ring of Title-Spoofing (x1 of 2) ¡¤ Silver Ring of Level-Spoofing (x1 of 2) ¡¤ Gold Ring of Glamour (x1) To: Calaf ¡¤ None
¡°Wait. Never mind that.¡± Perarde exhaled sharply, then removed his Gold Ring of Glamour from the trading offer. It was a curio Calaf had never seen before. ¡°Much better. Take these.¡± Calaf received:
Item: Bronze Ring of Title-Spoofing (x1) Description: Allows Wearer to Set His Title and Status to Whatever They Desire (Within Church-Approved Profanity Filters)
Item: Silver Ring of Level-Spoofing (x1) Description: Allows Wearer to Set His Listed Level to Whatever They Desire (¡®True¡¯ Level HP and Stats Still Apply, Though They Will be Hidden Until Attacked)
¡°With these, you will be able to pass as a merchant, or civilian camp follower, or whatever alibi you can concoct.¡± Perarde¡¯s full attention remained at the fort. ¡°These rings,¡± Calaf began. ¡°Sir, is this¡­ chivalrous? Surely, it¡¯s a better task for a Scout.¡± Perarde let out a huff. ¡°Chivalry is a code of honor. The honorable thing is to smite all threats to your home and hearth before they do the same to you. If you could have hounded that murderer of your foster father to hell before the deed had been done, would you have not taken that opportunity without question?¡± ¡°I¡­ I see, sir.¡± Calaf nodded but did not answer. ¡°My fellow arbiters have been harrying this rebellious noble¡¯s troops for a week or two now.¡± Perarde angled his neck down a narrow footpath below the rocky outcropping. ¡°They shall explain the particulars. Go forth, infiltrate this heresy with the full blessing of the church, and find out what you can about its leadership. With a decapitation strike, far more good will be done for the faith than simply running through low-level heretics out in the hinterlands.¡±
Chapter Forty-Seven: Chivalrous Subterfuge
Name: Caelus, Wayward Refugee
Rank: Shielder (Squire)
Level 12 (40)
Status: 36/36 (120/120)
Weapons: - Refugees Walking Stick - Plain Travelers Clothes
A Bronze Ring of Title Spoofing and a Silver Ring of Level Spoofing worked in accord to grant Calaf ¨C or perhaps Caelus ¨C his disguise. No physical aspects were altered, but this is what anyone under the Menu would identify him by. It was after dark when the disguised Squire made his approach through the woods towards Fort Duran. So dark was it that he could hardly enjoy the permanent autumnal wonderland he was encountering for the first time! Fort Duran and Autumn¡¯s Redoubt in general were places every Paladin dreamed of one day building up sufficient levels and stats to brave, and here Calaf was having that time squandered on an infiltration mission. Leaves fell to the forest floor on a great carpet and were replaced in swift order by new buds, which rapidly mellowed into the same Fall colors as everything else. It was a curious microclimate existing only on the southern slope up to the Olde Capital¡¯s grand plateau. A phenomenon neither church clerics nor mage scholars had a concrete explanation for. At any rate, Calaf found himself approaching the Fort, armor and weapons stashed safe in his Inventory. He walked alone to put on the airs of a simple traveler cast out of his home, looking for refuge with the rebel forces. What he found instead was his least favorite person in the entire world. And with Honest John in the running now, that was saying something. Two figures turned, both wearing flashy and extravagant gear in their own way. Neither was particularly concerned with stealth.
Name: Baldr, Arbiter of the Church.
Rank: Barriermeister
Level: 89
Status: 777/777 HP (Nonplussed)
¡°Hmmm?¡± The Church arbiter frowned. ¡°You the fresh meat Perarde sent?¡± Calaf¡¯s blood ran cold. The third figure among them strummed a brightly-colored Ruan.
Name: Klavier, Arbiter of the Church
Rank: Bard
Level: 75
Status: 360/360 (Performing)
¡°Song of Hushed Stealth is complete,¡± said the Bard-Arbiter. ¡°Our location is safe for many minutes yet.¡± Both the Bard and Barriermeister gazed upon Calaf with prying eyes. ¡°Do I know you?¡± Baldr¡¯s brow furrowed. Thank the System Baldr was bad with faces! ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure we would recognize a man of his countenance,¡± said Klavier. ¡°Perarde vouches for him, meaning he is peerless and fully expected to follow orders to the letter, yes?¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Yes. Exactly.¡± ¡°Okay, Mister New Meat.¡± Baldr¡¯s twangy Autumn¡¯s Redoubt accent was peeking through. ¡°I¡¯m sure the big man¡¯s given you instructions¡­¡± ¡°To infiltrate Fort Duran,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Find out what I can about the heretical nobles behind this rebellion, and determine force strength, troop counts, and how many church relics or baubles they currently have access to.¡± ¡°Good job,¡± Baldr said with the tone one would give to a trained dire-dog who just sat on command. ¡°And if you find any warp gates or stone circles leading back to the Battletower, report back right away. We¡¯re going to need to reestablish that. It¡¯s vital to our plans!¡± Klavier the team Bard pulled up a trade request:
Klavier ¡¤ Porcelain Snail of One-Way Audio (x1) To: Calaf ¡¤ None
¡°It does what it says,¡± Klavier explained. ¡°Speak to it. Whoever holds the corresponding snail¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± Baldr added. Klavier nodded. ¡°¡­ that¡¯s him, will hear your reports. Go forth, with the hopes of all the faithful on your shoulders.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Caelus ¨C rather, Calaf in disguise ¨C approached a camp around the back end of Fort Duran Du Loc. Klavier¡¯s songs granted him a modicum of stealth so that he would be neither noticed nor approached until he was well into camp. It was an unpleasant, lonely feeling, being under this Bard-based stealth field. He walked through the camp, rebels, and random refugees and the like walking around him but rarely noticing him. When someone did look at Calaf directly, they seldom lingered and would find they could never remember any details. Subterfuge and spy craft. What odd ground for a Squire. But if the exemplar of all Paladins ordered him to do it, well, who was Calaf to refuse? For his first order of business, Calaf got the lay of the land. There was a camp of several thousand people ¨C refugees, people from around Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, the edge of the desert, the plateau¡¯s edge leading to the Olde Capital, and associated border regions. Almost all were Branded, which was no surprise given this region was the core of the church¡¯s influence. Soldiers patrolled the camp, as well as manned outer defenses well beyond the scope of the fort¡¯s ramparts. Calaf counted maybe two hundred soldiers guarding the camp, all level sixty or above. To get a full-force projection he¡¯d need to get into the castle itself¡­ Wandering around the edge of the camp, Calaf happened upon a stone archway, not unlike the one stashed in the Battletower basement, seemingly arbitrarily. Given the connection between the Battlemage and Paladin of Yore, and the sheer number of other archways leading elsewhere back at the Battletower, it didn¡¯t take some learned scholar to determine this was not arbitrary at all. ¡°I think I¡¯ve found the portal¡­¡± Calaf spoke into the snail. He would receive no response, for it was only a one-way device. The woods beyond the perimeter were dark. It was hard to tell if this was indeed the same location he¡¯d seen through the portal, where an injured Honest John had tried casting one last cocky glance back. Calaf knelt. Even his mediocre Agility stats helped to puzzle out the pattern of dried blood in the soil where John had taken a spear to the gut. Calaf smiled despite himself. Knowing that his foe suffered. It wasn¡¯t very chivalrous of him, but the thought set a tingle going up his arms. It felt satisfying. Once his field of stealth properly dissipated and he was reasonably certain that he would be seen as just another refugee about camp, Calaf checked out a group huddled at a campfire. ¡°Have you heard any word about a man found heavily injured by that archway over there?¡± Calaf pointed towards the wood¡¯s edge. ¡°Would¡¯ve been near death. Maybe thereabouts at two HP?¡± ¡°Guy missing half a face?¡± asked one refugee. ¡°Yeah, that fellow!¡± said another. ¡°Received healing in the fort. Got the spear out of him, but there wasn¡¯t much that could be done about his face. After a meeting with the Mistress of the fort and her gentlemen cleric friend, he ran off.¡± ¡°Which way did he go?¡± ¡°Oh, thereabouts thataway.¡± The crew around the campfire pointed eastward. Calaf pondered this. ¡°That¡¯s well off any roads or routes.¡± ¡°Someone must have had him spooked!¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± Masking a smile, Calaf left the campfire. For his next question, Calaf checked in with a merchant distributing soup around camp. ¡°So,¡± the spying Squire began. ¡°What¡¯s the word around camp?¡± ¡°New here?¡± the merchant raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not a lot of convoys coming in anymore. Seems the Madam has done what she could to keep the Church at bay and shield residents from their oncoming forces. Now we must hope she¡¯s got what it takes to route ¡®em, spark off this reformation movement she ¡®n her beau have promised.¡± ¡°Reformation?¡± The merchant¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I just got here not long ago,¡± said Calaf. It wasn¡¯t even a lie! ¡°Aye. She gives a big speech every other night about it. The next one should be about an hour from now in the bailey. You should go have a gander if you haven¡¯t already.¡± Calaf nodded and took his leave.
Well, he wasn¡¯t expecting to be just let into Fort Duran just like that. But evidently, it was an open house. Calaf followed a group of similarly low-level refugees and the like up through a drawbridge and gatehouse into Fort Duran¡¯s castle bailey, a wide-open marshaling ground. Calaf counted what soldiers he could. Maybe a hundred along the walls right now. Another few hundred in the baileys. Of course, with each of them pushing level 70 a well-trained party of any five of them could¡¯ve routed the entire Riverglen contingent of the army back in the hinterlands. None of the refugees here in the bailey spoke or looked distracted. Instead, they looked up at a balcony near the ramparts as if expecting someone to make an appearance. All the soldiers along the edge of the bailey pounded their shields, spears, and swords into the ground in anticipation. Calaf¡¯s estimate was about five hundred now, and many more still patrolled the perimeter looking outward for threats. The rancor hit a fever pitch, then died abruptly. Out walked two figures. The first wore full dull-gold colored armor. Capital Garrison Mail, the official Paladin armor from the plateau around the Olde Capital. This figure took her helmet off to reveal a middle-aged, battle-scarred woman with greying wiry hair kept back in three knotted braids:
Name: Joan, Paladin
Rank: Paladin
Level 81
Status: 10001/10001 (Pillar of Righteousness)
Weapons: - Greatsword of True Faith (x1) - Tower Shield of the Capital Ramparts (x1)
¡°Greetings, citizens, subjects. Farmers, townsfolk refugees. All who heard the call of our System Message before it was so rudely squelched by the corrupt authorities at Demon Lord¡¯s Fall.¡± At level eighty-one, Joan was only one of a handful of Paladins anywhere near the upper echelons of the Menu¡¯s leveling system. There would be maybe a dozen non-church arbiters that matched her skill. Calaf had not heard of her, but only because the ranks of the old nobility and those of paltry Riverglen sewer guards were separated by a gulf roughly equivalent to the distance from Demon Lord¡¯s Fall to the moon! The second figure held Joan¡¯s hand, looking over the crowd. He was a cleric with a shaved head in the style of those deep into the church¡¯s monastic life.
Name: Cayo, Reformist
Rank: Bishop
Level 84
Status: 780/780 (All-Loving Saint)
Weapons: - Simple Talisman
¡°For untold centuries, the Church of the Menu has controlled all affairs of life on this continent with its rules and strictures.¡± Joan¡¯s voice boomed through the courtyard. ¡°But, my friends, there is another way..." Cayo stepped forward. ¡°Brothers, sisters, the hierarchy of the church is a distraction. It serves only to enrich deacons, bishops ¨C of which I am one, true ¨C and most certainly the archpope themself. Faith is to be expressed by Branding and the Menu, yes, but the Church itself has cut off key elements of the Interface to ensure its control over the populace.¡± ¡°The Menu¡­¡± Joan held Cayo¡¯s hand aloft. ¡°Is for everyone. Marriage and acts of love ¨C are for everyone! With no distinction between class, rank, or how any individual chooses to undergo their journey up the Menu¡¯s levels.¡± The crowd hung on to every word. As peasants and farmers from some of the periphery towns along the pilgrimage route, they¡¯d seldom gotten much support from the church either way. Joan¡¯s voice grew louder and more commanding. ¡°Even as we speak, the church has put a movement of humble pilgrims ¨C their own initiates, who answered the call of pilgrimage! ¨C to the sword. The corruption of the church¡¯s higher echelons: its ecclesial council, its arbiters, and its staff currently occupying the bones at the Demon Lord¡¯s Fall, is self-evident. Rise up with me in rebellion against the church, and we can return the gifts of the Menu to the people!¡± Again, the crowd grew feverish in answer to the call. Cayo let go of Joan¡¯s hand and held his aloft, patiently urging silence. ¡°So many of the church¡¯s teachings are about control,¡± he said. ¡°Levels are gained primarily in combat. But this need not be the case. The option to allow a life of farming or smithing to grant you enough experience in a lifetime to reach level 70 or 80 is available via holy relics. This option is simply cut off, by order of the archpope ¨C and countless archpopes before him.¡± Joan held aloft a Stupendous Amber Level Up Bauble of Endurance. ¡°With this, we shall bring about a great Leveling. All shall be equal under the System.¡± ¡°All are brothers under the Interface,¡± Cayo added, his head dipped in prayer. ¡°Hallowed be!¡± yelled the crowd. To great fanfare, Joan popped the Level Up Bauble. It provided only a fraction of the XP required for a level 81 to advance to 82. ¡°For our first order of business: no longer shall the dead of all kinds be confined to church crypts.¡± Joan looked over the crowd as they soaked this in before continuing. ¡°In this new world that we strive to create, all shall be buried in simple graves, facing the sky and accessible to family and the masses.¡± This point gave Calaf a queasy, uneasy lump in his stomach. It was enough to break him out of the spell where he was transfixed alongside the crowd. Everything else Joan had said so far seemed at once blatantly rebellious against all that was holy but also, at some level deep in his gut, just plain common sense. ¡°And how shall we accomplish this?¡± Joan asked the crowd. ¡°Well, we have found a vitally important piece for the board. A descendant of the holy twins, a young girl not but twelve years¡­¡± Calaf looked around, scanning the bailey. Doing his job, trying to avoid thinking about whether this Paladin Joan and her apparent love spoke the truth. There, in a far corner, he saw her: A slender woman wearing functional and mobility-enhancing travel attire leaned against the fortress walls. She had a tri-corner hat covering most of her face, but it could not mask an overlarge eyepatch over her left eye. The relic thief seemed to notice Calaf in that moment as well. She shuffled in place and then stood up a little straighter. Her face went from neutral to a sharp smile. Then, she gave him a wink with her good eye. ¡°Jelena,¡± Calaf mouthed, almost letting relief and even longing sneak through.
Chapter Forty-Eight: Danse Des Rivaux
Jelena Turandot rose from her leaning position and made a point of disappearing into the castle proper. She exited down a narrow, shaded tunnel running under the outermost walls. Calaf wanted to follow. To shake her down for answers and find out what exactly she was doing here amidst this den of apostasy. But he was duty-bound to his mission. ¡°Soon, the storm will be upon us,¡± Joan said from high above. ¡°For now, come in, eat, feast, and meet the scion of the holy bloodline that will be our salvation.¡± Doors opened leading further into the fortress. Try as Calaf did to skirt the crowd and follow after Jelena, the flow of his fellow guests proved too strong, and he was pushed steadily inside. Joan and Cayo, high-level Paladin and Cleric turned apostate rebels that they were, observed the crowd as they entered the fort.
Fort Duran Du Loc was the official dungeon of the Paladin. Just as the Battletower was for Battlemagery and Ye Olde Docks were for the Scout/Thief. The Cleric¡¯s patron dungeon was a nunnery deep in the core districts of the Olde Capital. Normally a dungeon would be sparsely populated by mortals and filled with dire-creatures and peril. Getting to the banquet hall would have been a challenge for even a Squire pushing level 60! And intentionally so. The purpose of these holy sites was to test the mettle of aspirants. Now, with an entire army holding the fort down, things were considerably less perilous. Special items from the tallest or deepest segment of each dungeon were required to achieve that final rank up to Paladin, Scout, Battlemage, etc. For an aspiring Paladin, this would be Rampart Rubble from atop the central keep¡¯s highest battlement. Calaf refocused. This was not his immediate concern. It would be several years and twenty-odd levels until he had to rank up; there would be plenty of time to tackle Fort Duran ¡®properly¡¯, but first Calaf had to survive this mission¡­ A great hall awaited, cleared of both foes and centuries of rot. In place of ruined tables and crumbled chandeliers, there was an ornate banquet hall. All the delicacies of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt were provided: dire-duck, dire-pheasant, pomegranates, and even the incredibly rare dire-pumpkin. An assortment of pies from the refurbished fort¡¯s kitchens were kept under guard. It appeared Joan¡¯s rebel Levelers took dessert deadly seriously. Soldiers kept the queue tidy and flowing single-file. Calaf ate alongside the others. As he chewed on some dire-duck, he looked about and memorized the banquet hall¡¯s layout. True to Joan¡¯s assertions, the tables were round and without any corners or proper ¡®head of the table¡¯ to denote status. Instead, the layout of the tables as a whole was revealing: Nine round tables full of food for the ordinary camp folk were arranged in three columns and two rows. A tenth table had been placed in an alcove or divot against the far wall. Not positioned above the rest of the tables, but it was quieter and secluded. This was where Joan, Cayo, and a set of clients wearing significantly higher-quality clothing sat. Nobles and the like. Their Interfaces revealed their names and designations effortlessly:
Name: Cedric, Earl of the Capital Plateau
Rank: Earl
Level 62
Status: 520/520
Name: Lady Evelyn of Swampside Castle Cole
Rank: Duchess
Level 73
Status: 650/650
Name: Duke Marlowe of Howe
Rank: Duke
Level 55
Status: 390/390
¡­ which is to say, these were important nobles from around the northern plateau and even a few converted lands from overseas. Indeed, they even had the class reserved for those of noble birth. A useful audience to have if you were wining and dining dignitaries of power and influence. Calaf spoke each name into the magic snail, as subtly as possible given the circumstances. He did this between bouts of dire-duck, of which his table had plenty. Only about half the hall was taken up by the tables. The remaining half, the southern half near the fortress tower¡¯s grand doors, was bare. As dinner gradually finished, a series of Troubadour-class musicians filed into raised balconies in the wings. They played regal music as a group. One by one tables of common folk took to the dance floor. The nobles continued to hold their meeting at the secluded table, with a Paladin occasionally coming in to report to Joan with a whisper. Desperate to maintain cover, Calaf left his seat once the food was running low. He milled about at the edge of the group, noticing that the refugee rabble was joined by a higher-end clientele as the noble¡¯s retinues joined in ¨C but not the nobles themselves. Footsteps snuck up on Calaf. He didn¡¯t notice until it was too late, but a set of long, slender nails slid along his forearm daintily. ¡°Excuse me, noble sir,¡± came a soft and sly voice. Calaf turned to see a woman in a poofy regal dress and tight corset before him. Curly hair was done up in an ornate and lacy headpiece. Though a veil of lace covered her face, it could never hide the blocky eyepatch obscuring her lefthand side.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°May I have this dance¡­¡± Jelena smirked and offered her hand. ¡°¡­ Hot Shot?¡±
The dance floor was crowded, but the chamber was large enough to accommodate both more regal types of dancing and the more¡­ plain¡­ moves of the commoners. Jelena Turandot, with her fancy dress and noblewoman disguise, of course, insisted on the latter. Calaf accessed his Interface, and chose ¡®Dance.¡¯ Jelena took his hands, placed one on her waist, and they began to sway about. ¡°So, Calaf.¡± Jelena¡¯s feet swiftly outmaneuvered Calaf¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s Caelus,¡± the disguised Squire said. ¡°Oh?¡± She glanced down at his fingers as they sat interlaced in hers. ¡°A title-spoofing ring. I see. Well, that¡¯s not something I¡¯d be able to see. Hello there, ¡®Caelus¡¯.¡± ¡°Jelena, what are you doing here?¡± The pair twirled around. Jelena repositioned his hand a little lower on her waist. ¡°Well, after you and I split up back at Japella, Enkidu and I traveled north. We happened to be in the area and it looked like there was all sorts of church activity goin¡¯ on. Church arbiters are on the warpath, of late.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve noticed,¡± Calaf said, deadpan. ¡°Are you here to spread heresy? To subvert these people¡¯s faith in the glorious Menu?¡± ¡°What? No!¡± Jelena slowed down their pace. ¡°This Joan lady seems to have plenty of faith in the System, she just wants to be in charge of it. It¡¯s Menu versus Menu combat. Must say, though, she does welcome the excommunicated and Brandless into her ranks.¡± Indeed, the dance floor had more than a few people who shared the question-mark designation of Jelena¡¯s scoured Brand. ¡°What do you think of her? About Joan?¡± the relic thief asked. Calaf thought long and hard. ¡°What of her? She¡­ does seem to believe what she¡¯s saying. But to overturn the church¡­ it would just give power back to nobles. Nobles just like her, conveniently.¡± ¡°Perhaps.¡± Jelena¡¯s lips pursed. ¡°She did say she wants to leave the Menu in place, and just allow everyone to live their own life. That doesn¡¯t seem so bad. But the System would remain.¡± The pair looked to the far table, where Joan and her posse stood, and observed the proceedings. ¡°You never told me why you were here.¡± Calaf¡¯s face was perilously close to Jelena¡¯s. ¡°Where there are battles over church doctrine, there are typically church relics,¡± the former Sister Turandot explained. ¡°And where there are relics, there are opportunities to steal those relics!¡± Calaf tried not to laugh. The Troubadours played louder, and they picked up the pace.
The dance floor grew more fervid as everyone struggled to keep up with the beat. The commoner¡¯s dance proved more adept in this fashion as they were, as they say, freewheeling it. But Jelena kept flat-footed Calaf on the beat. ¡°Ah, you thief!¡± Calaf said at a shout-whisper. ¡°I should have known that was your angle!¡± ¡°Says the spy,¡± she shout-whispered back. Jelena sashayed away from Calaf and made airs of considering a dance with various other suitors ¨C of which there were many. Calaf was left in the middle of the dance floor, abandoned, until she came back and scooped him up. ¡°Just kidding~¡± she teased. ¡°You¡¯re far more handsome than those gentlemen suitors.¡± ¡°I am not either handsome!¡± The pair took off tangoing once more. ¡°Lying is unchivalrous conduct unbecoming a Paladin~¡± Jelena said. ¡°¡¯Course, so is spycraft.¡± Calaf frowned. ¡°Why did you seek me out?¡± ¡°Well, handsome.¡± Jelena enunciated this word with extra emphasis. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to run into you. But I¡¯m here for relic-thieving purposes. You¡¯re here for church-double agent purposes, I presume. Curious how that works out.¡± The pair twirled. Jelena spun about while the pair orbited each other. Her dress puffed up as she spun, drawing much attention from the crowd. When she slowed down, she went flush to Calaf¡¯s body, and the pair took off laterally, hand in hand. ¡°We both have the power to destroy each other,¡± Jelena said. ¡°One of us can rat the other out. It¡¯s quite the precarious situation, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± Calaf grabbed Jelena¡¯s waist and hoisted her into the air. The crowd responded with a polite clap. They returned to a slower, swaying style. ¡°Well,¡± Jelena said when she was back on the floor. ¡°What do you say, Hot Shot? Truce?¡± ¡°Truce. For now.¡± Calaf sighed, then said at a lower octave: ¡°But you should get out of here before the fighting starts. I was sent here by General Perarde himself.¡± Jelena nodded, understanding. ¡°The Paladin Exemplar is here? Why, that¡¯s every arbiter in the church¡­ must really have them spooked.¡±
There was a twang of a Silver Spoon of Stirring (x1) against a Plain Wine Goblet +2. ¡°I am glad that so many could reach this redoubt, and make merry despite the dire circumstances we find ourselves in.¡± Paladin Joan held the goblet aloft, turning all eyes towards her. ¡°Now, our friends here.¡± Joan motioned towards her fellow nobles. ¡°Among others, have questioned how we can hope to withstand the full power of the church. Top loyalist forces close in around us even now.¡± That sent a murmur of concern through the crowd. Cayo held his hands out. ¡°Dread not. For we have a plan to expose the Church¡¯s corruption to all. Surely, when all see the truth, open rebellion is assured.¡± Frightened murmurs soon turned to nods of agreement. A door at Joan and co.¡¯s back opened just a tad. A diminutive figure walked in. ¡°Behold,¡± said the Paladin. ¡°Our benefactor, and candidate for a true, more¡­ worldly archpope.¡± Joan held her hand out and this miniature figure took it, before likewise requesting Cayo¡¯s hand as well. The Paladin and cleric both presented a short young woman of no older than twelve. Otherworldly silver hair sat groomed into a dozen pigtails around the back of her head, while twin sideburns likewise adopted a natural spiral. The young girl said nothing, letting her twin-Branded silver eyes do the talking, alongside an interface designation:
Name: Zilara, Holy Child
Rank: (Custom Class: Divine Bloodline)
Level 26
Status: 70/70
¡°For as you see, a descendant of the divine couple has been found,¡± Joan announced. ¡°Of a bloodline unjustly cast out from the Grand Cathedral long ago.¡± Cayo and Joan gently urged this young lady out into the crowd. Still, she did not speak. ¡°Thought extinct, this branch of the divine bloodline has survived in the wild amongst the Unbranded and those outside the church¡¯s influence for generations. It represents an older, more pure form of the faith. One we will restore to its proper place at the Demon Lord¡¯s Fall.¡± The crowd was silent as they observed this otherworldly-looking child. Joan nodded sagely at the child. ¡°It was through her power that we managed to temporarily unlock Systems Messages, which we used to invite so many of you here to our sanctuary. And, with time, I¡¯m certain we can fully unshackle this ability from control of the ecumenical council, and return it, and many other System features, to the people!¡± The crowd cheered. Zillaria turned to a proud-looking Cayo and Joan. ¡°What say you, child?¡± Cayo asked. ¡°Can you restore the Systems Messages? So that we may provide this truth to the faithful? No need for sermons, no need for cathedral hierarchy?¡± ¡°Got it, Hoss.¡± Zilara gave a curt nod. ¡°Can do.¡±
The holy child didn¡¯t talk much. But when she did it was in an off-pilgrimage route accent not unlike the people of Vault. Much more twangy, somewhat common to the unconverted masses of the cold and chilly north, well beyond Demon Lord¡¯s Fall. Joan and Cayo showed Zilara off like doting parents at a debutante ball. Zilara awkwardly fumbled through memorized dance motions as the festival continued. A second helping of food was provided at the tables, drawing a few souls away from the dance floor. Both Jelena Turandot and Calaf of Riverglen continued their detente dance of mutual rivalry. ¡°Say, what do you think of this dress?¡± Jelena asked after a time. Calaf looked down, examining the tight purplish bodice Jelena was squeezed into. The corset turned her waist into an hourglass. And a low cut along the top revealed a great deal of her neck. Dark purple lace blended in and accentuated a stunning dusky desert complexion. The dress popped out on all sides, only making her figure appear supple and more exaggerated. Damn the curves on these seductresses of the Firefield desert. Their sun-kissed skin tone and ample assets were about to make the dutiful Squire start reconsidering his vows! ¡°I¡­ er, I¡¯m engaged,¡± Calaf said in a huff. ¡°I was going to ask you to take it off,¡± Jelena hummed, then: ¡°That wasn¡¯t a sexy proposition. I mean it¡¯s legitimately going to be impossible to get out of this corset without a blade.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Enkidu?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°He ought to be able to help.¡± ¡°How do you think I got in this thing?¡± Jelena chuckled. ¡°He¡¯s around. Keeping watch. Hardly fits in at a proper, civilized banquet.¡± The pair¡¯s faces drifted closer. ¡°Got the dress from some noblewoman¡¯s mobile wardrobe,¡± Jelena explained. ¡°They have so many they¡¯ll never miss it and clearly don¡¯t even recognize it on someone else.¡± ¡°I¡­ I see.¡± ¡°Glad you like it,¡± she teased. ¡°I¡­ do,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°It looks good. Great On you, I mean.¡± Over near the hall¡¯s center, a cry went out: ¡°Tell us, child, what miracles can you perform?¡± ¡°Er, I can see the true designations of people¡¯s menus,¡± Zilara said, finger in her ear. ¡°Wow. A way to instantly determine the loyalty of spies and cutthroats!¡± said an audience member. All at once Calaf felt a pair of eyes fall upon him. Suspicious, far from the fawning gaze of the crowd garnered when he and Miss Turandot had stolen the show with their dance moves earlier. ¡°Like those two.¡± The holy child pointed directly at Calaf. Dancing stopped. ¡°Who, me?¡± Jelena pointed at her chest. ¡°Why, I¡¯m but a humble noblewoman who lost her Brand in an elaborate apple-picking accident!¡± ¡°That one.¡± Zilara made an immature pointing motion at Calaf. ¡°One whose Menu designation says ¡®Caelus.¡¯ He¡¯s got a spoofing ring.¡± Calaf tried to hide the bronze and silver rings on his left hand, to no avail. ¡°You two, the couple that¡¯s been stealing the show all night,¡± Joan¡¯s voice boomed. ¡°Come visit us in the fortress annex.¡± ¡°Worry not. You will not be detained,¡± Cayo promised. ¡°We simply wish to talk, and hope you will listen.¡± ¡°Heh. Yeah, what the Hoss and Other Hoss say,¡± Zilara concluded. ¡°Just goanna talk.¡±
Chapter Forty-Nine: Reformation Consternation
Fort Duran Du Loc¡¯s central keep was home to a throne room belonging to a royal line that died out centuries before the time of the ancient heroes. The Obsidian Throne: an ornate and regal seat of power forged from the lava of a now-extinct volcano, remained. Joan took the opportunity to sit down, hunched over, on this throne. ¡°Do you have the right to sit on that throne?¡± Calaf asked, nonplussed. It was a bold move for a Paladin, even one who¡¯d already forsaken the church. Rather than answer right away, Paladin Joan craned her neck, revealing a Brand just above her collarbone. The exact mark of the Ancient Paladin of Yore. ¡°Why, I and Zilara here are perhaps the only two people currently in the region with the right to do so,¡± Joan said, then slouched over even more. ¡°Of course, she inherited the holy bloodline¡¯s more¡­ administrative features. So, I have it on good authority that you¡¯re an agent of the church?¡± The elderly Paladin looked at the pair expectantly. Jelena and Calaf stood before her. Cayo stood at Joan¡¯s side, hand on her shoulder plate. And Zilara, the promised holy child, sat on the stairs at Joan¡¯s feet, Branded eyes darting around at nothing. ¡°Not me,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Though in the interest of full disclosure, I did steal this dress. I can give it back if someone helps me get out of it without slicing the corset off¡­¡± Silence filled the chamber. Then, after a glance at Cayo, Joan¡¯s lips tilted upwards in an uncharacteristic smile. ¡°I kind of like this one,¡± the Paladin told her beau. ¡°Are you from Firefield?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°Well, the outskirts at the very edge of the desert. You¡¯ve probably never heard of it.¡± ¡°Ah, I¡¯m distantly Firefieldian myself.¡± Joan repositioned, no longer slouching quite so much. ¡°What of your gentleman companion?¡± Cayo asked. ¡°Take off your rings, good sir. Let us speak without any disguises here.¡± Reluctantly, Calaf removed his bronze and silver rings. Once more, his Menu designation matched his self-perception:
Name: Calaf, Crusader
Rank: Squire
Level: 40
Status: 120/120 (Discovered!)
Weapons: - Redstone Spear of the Desert Nomads - Exquisite Shield of Fireproofing +2
¡°Nice spear.¡± Jelena whistled. ¡°Elders used to catch dire-geckos with those back home.¡± ¡°That shield¡¯s been scorched before,¡± Joan said. ¡°I hope it serves you better than whoever held it last.¡± ¡°Thank you?¡± Calaf said despite himself. ¡°It makes sense the church would send a lower-level aspirant.¡± Cayo looked Calaf over. ¡°He¡¯s been traveling for quite some time. His hair is all ragged and his beard is barely kept. A Paladin in the church¡¯s regular army would stick out easily. But you, good sir, look like just another refugee.¡± Nothing could be said about that either way, so Calaf kept quiet. Neither of the rebel¡¯s two guests was restrained, and there were no guards other than Joan and the Bishop themselves. ¡°Hey, I know things seldom end well for spies, but¡­¡± Jelena motioned to Calaf. ¡°If he needs a character witness, I¡¯ll gladly volunteer.¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± Joan slouched down again. ¡°Oh, by the Immaculate Interface, that¡¯s the last thing on our mind.¡± Calaf and Jelena looked at each other. Neither of them was about to be lined up against one of the ramparts and bombarded with a firing squad¡¯s worth of magic missiles. The realization dawned on them gradually, and they both mutually felt a great weight off their chests. ¡°Whew.¡± Jelena sighed. Over on the stairs, Zilara giggled. ¡°Heh. They have some chemistry,¡± she said in her folksy accent. ¡°We do not!¡± Calaf and Jelena said in unison, taking a step away from each other. Joan observed all this with the slightest of chuckles. ¡°We were hoping you could bear witness. Our cause is just, and we have no wish to strike down leal and faithful servants of the church. Certainly not lower levels who are not yet complicit in the ecumenical council¡¯s many crimes.¡± When Cayo spoke his voice was soft and whisper-like, though he never had trouble being heard. ¡°Your forces down at the Battletower ransacked the hinterlands. Killed many people, church conscripts and otherwise. And their leader was a piece of work.¡± Cayo and Joan looked at each other. ¡°The man with half a face?¡± Joan arched an eyebrow, then looked back to Cayo. ¡°We received word of his re-discovery of these level-up artifacts,¡± Cayo began. ¡°It goes against the official church history of the time of heroes. We had no control over his band and neither did they operate under our orders. The thing to remember is that these people were granted great power in short order with no guidance from the Church other than complete prohibition.¡± Joan nodded. ¡°If we could have gotten them here, we would have imposed discipline. And under the protection of a proper army, they would¡¯ve never needed to maraud across the countryside.¡± ¡°Such a waste of life,¡± Bishop Cayo said.
Drums sounded in the distance. The din came from out in the woods. With the moonless night the area beyond the ramparts was masked in near-total darkness. ¡°The church will be upon us soon,¡± Joan said. ¡°Spooky,¡± said Zilara. Joan repositioned; her entire body pointed at Calaf. ¡°What say you? Do you acknowledge the righteousness of our cause?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Calaf hesitated. What did he think of these heretical separatists? They were bucking the authority of the church to¡­ old a banquet for impoverished refugees? Said refugees were displaced due to the heretical reformists in turn. But taking care of those disaffected by your actions was in keeping with the dictates of chivalry. What manifestation of chivalry would Calaf go with? The charity of Joan, or duty and means-to-the-end of General Perarde? Joan appeared to sense his trepidation. ¡°If you say no, we¡¯ll still allow you to leave unharmed. You have my word. Please, go bring what troop information you¡¯ve managed to garner. You¡¯ve likely only seen the outer bailey, ramparts, and exterior camp. That¡¯s not even a fraction of our forces.¡± Calaf raised an eyebrow. Even with incomplete troop counts, that was tipping the reformist¡¯s hand to all of the deadliest arbiters of the church. ¡°Would that not put many of your men in danger?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Danger is upon us,¡± the grizzled old Paladin said. ¡°Too late to avoid a fight. Ramparts can be moved, defenses shored up. With a hammer blow from the church inevitable, our goal instead is to¡­ raise awareness of the disproportionate retribution of the church.¡± Outside, the drums grew louder. ¡°That¡¯s where I come in,¡± Zilara said with a disinterested yawn. ¡°Indeed.¡± Joan put her gauntlet-encased hand on Zilara¡¯s head and ruffled her hair. ¡°The holy child shall reveal our plight here to the world. With ample evidence of the church arbiters trying to slay half the region to get to me, the good people of this land are sure to rise up in rebellion.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°¡­ and with all the highest-level church arbiters congregated here to wipe you out¡­¡± Jelena¡¯s face lightened up with understanding. ¡°¡­ rebellion in the major pilgrimage stations will be significantly harder to squelch.¡± Joan nodded. ¡°I do like her.¡± A great crash came from outside, well within the bailey. A fierce glow peeked through the arrow slits and opaque foggy glass of this throne room. Wordlessly, Joan rose. ¡°Go in peace.¡± Cayo kept his hand on Joan¡¯s shoulder pauldron. ¡°Dread not,¡± she said, looking upon him warmly. Then, she turned to Calaf. ¡°You can come with me, observe the brutality of the church yourself. Your lady friend can stay here for a time, and feel free to interrogate Zilara. She seems good with kids.¡± Joan chuckled, prepped her sword and shield, and pushed open a pair of hefty wooden doors. Well, Calaf supposed as he followed. Don¡¯t have to worry about espionage if the spy is within arm¡¯s reach.
Shouts of panic and commands to form up in line came from the adjacent banquet hall. Jelena waited, still in her combat-inappropriate dress. Cayo remained by Zilara¡¯s side. ¡°You got a change of clothes?¡± Zilara asked, still curled up with her knees in her chest. ¡°Got a change stashed in a false brick near the eastern ramparts,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Third brick from the drawbridge.¡± Zilara¡¯s eyes darted about. Physically she was here, but she was looking elsewhere. ¡°Got it.¡± The young woman said. ¡°Here:¡± All at once, Jelena felt as if she were picked up by the scruff and posed by a phantom hand. Her stollen dress fell away and was, seamlessly, replaced with her more functional relic-thieving garb. Every lace on her bodice and boots was already in place. In many ways, it was snug and perfectly tailored, a better fit than if Jelena had put the outfit on herself. ¡°Guess you don¡¯t have an inventory anymore,¡± Zilara said, offhand. ¡°I can swap the dress out, put it in that false brick. Or I can just keep it in mine.¡± Jelena smiled. ¡°You are handy.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t teleport people yet.¡± Zilara shrugged. ¡°Think that kicks in around level 50. It¡¯ll be a while.¡± The feeling of having her equipment changed like it was all one single item was a familiar one to the former Sister Turandot. It was a sensation she remembered from the time she¡¯d converted to the night she¡¯d scoured her Interface Brand. It was almost nostalgic. ¡°Soooo, you from around here?¡± Jelena asked Cayo.
Joan thundered out into the bailey with Calaf close at hand. The Paladin started barking out orders. While the civilians panicked and stormed into the fort, Joan¡¯s soldiers manned the ramparts with steely discipline. Before walking out to battle proper, Calaf applied his rings again. The better to avoid being run through by the rebels in the fort. Up to the walls they marched. A vantage point, where Joan could observe the battle (what little could be seen in the dark) and bark out orders. There was little in the way of campfires, torchlight, or any of the usual signifiers to indicate that an army was advancing. Open flame came from the refugee camp just outside of the walls. ¡°Alright, get four parties out there. We need to cover the civilians so that they can seek shelter here.¡± Joan ordered four of her commanders out of the gate. ¡°Hold them back! The holy child will showcase evidence to the world. All will know of our plight.¡± Joan turned to Calaf. ¡°Want to make yourself useful?¡± Silently, Calaf nodded. ¡°Go help evacuate the camp,¡± she ordered. ¡°And relax. Even if you use this opportunity to go back to your masters, it¡¯s a bit too late for you to provide any information of value!¡± Calaf took off down the ramparts and out the gate. Paladins and Clerics of level 60 and above marched out to form a wall of shields behind which the frightened civilians could escape. As he walked down into the fray, Calaf¡¯s eyes were drawn to the abandoned archway on the edge of camp. It shimmered from one direction, showcasing a vista from elsewhere, but as he walked along it ceased to shine. Hmmm. Calaf had his suspicions. This was at the far edge of the perimeter, a part of camp long since abandoned. He decided to take the risk and investigate. Fire and lightning were summoned from the sky in magical barrages of activity. Most hit the walls of Fort Duran and were dispelled by the dungeon¡¯s anti-magical properties. A few landed in camp, setting abandoned tents aflame. Calaf rushed out to the archway, helping some elderly refugees to their feet and urging them towards the fortress doors. It had been active until not too long ago. A magical flourish still hung in the air. There, in the bloodied patch of dirt where Honest John had been impaled not too many days prior, was another figure¡­
Name: Karol of the Olde Capital
Rank: ???
Level XX
Status: YYY/YYY
Weapons: - ???
¡°Karol!?¡± Calaf asked. He knelt to his feet. Only, her Interface was not responding. The name filled out, just as Jelena¡¯s did now since he happened to know her. But everything else¡­ ¡°Your Brand¡­¡± Calaf managed. ¡°It¡¯s been Scoured. What happened?¡± ¡°She told me. I could serve the church.¡± Calaf helped Karol to her feet. Her eyes were puffy, evidence of a painful scouring and untold days of tears. The former crimson mage wore plain, ragged clothes not unlike those of the common refugees. And her Brand was visible, scarred and defiled, on her upper shoulder.
Sounds of battle echoed into the throne room. ¡°Joan and I knew each other growing up,¡± Cayo said. ¡°We grew up in the Olde Capital. Her family were nobles, of course, and I was a child of a well-off peasant. After the death of my parents, I was taken as a ward by her family.¡± Zilara, as always, looked off in her own little world. ¡°Almost got it¡­¡± ¡°We grew closer as we grew older. Traveled on our pilgrimage together, side by side. Walked from Riverglen through Autumn¡¯s Redoubt to the capital plateau. Made it to level fifty just on that single journey. Only after we returned did things go awry.¡± ¡°For you see, the requirements of Joan¡¯s station put¡­ barriers between us.¡± Cayo nodded, reminiscing. ¡°She was married off to another noble with deep connections to the church. As a hapless orphan with no birthright of note, I was sent to the church monastic system.¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°Yeah. I did a few years as a Sister in a recently converted settlement.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll save you the sordid details, then,¡± Cayo said, solemnly. ¡°Joan did her duty, as did I. She had a few children before the death of her husband, while I rose to shepherd faithfully through the Fellmarsh. Then, newly widowed, Joan took a second pilgrimage¡­¡± ¡°Not uncommon, certainly not for a high-level aspirant or a noble,¡± Jelena added. ¡°True, true.¡± Cayo smiled. ¡°Though she did find me again almost by accident. After all those years, the spark was as if we¡¯d never been apart. Of course, monastic vows got in the way. But along the road, with the experience of age and levels now under her belt, Joan couldn¡¯t help but notice how many pilgrimages failed. No, not just fail, but end in death! New converts, hundreds each year, embark on their journeys full of faith and idealism only to die, killed by a dire-creature or even just accidents along the route!¡± Cayo continued, explaining how combat was the primary method of gaining levels and rank within the church. How this was wholly inappropriate for most people, and how it created a church full of warriors more than priests or even administrators. And if every ranking official was a warrior, every problem would inevitably present itself as a call to violence. The bishop had left his position, rekindling his relationship with the now-Paladin and titled noblewoman Joan. She was a fighter herself, just as Cayo had been a ranking holy man within the Church of the Menu. But he¡¯d forsaken those vows to help Joan pursue her reformist movement. When it was over, Jelena kicked her right foot along the floor. ¡°Say, you, uh, got any advice about how a former sister can woo a duty-bound, possibly engaged knight-class into forsaking his vows? Y¡¯know, theoretically?¡± Cayo chuckled. ¡°Oh, dear child. Even despite our similar circumstances, I cannot condone breaking apart a prior commitment. However, if it truly is meant to be, well, love triumphs over the cold structures and deaf traditions of the world, hmmm?¡± ¡°Oh, I hear you,¡± Jelena said with a smile.
¡°The brand was scoured on purpose,¡± Calaf realized. ¡°Though Jedd is gone forever. Though my family is forsaken, she said I could still be useful to the church¡­¡± ¡°Who?¡± Calaf¡¯s blood ran cold just as he asked. Before Karol could respond, the pair was approached by a group of four rushing out of the woods. ¡°Round ¡®em up! Just as the General commands!¡± Calaf ¨C still dully aware of his ¡®Caelus¡¯ disguise ¨C held a hand out in front of Karol. ¡°Unbranded and heretics! After them!¡± A balanced party emerged from the shadows of the woods. They were, a knight:
Name: Jorge
Rank: Paladin
Level 67
Status: 2300/2300 (Healthy)
Weapons: Great Gilded Club and Greatshield (x1)
A cleric:
Name: Sarah
Rank: Cleric
Level: 66
Status: 600/600 (Nervous)
Weapons: Stave
A Vanguard, well overlevelled to reclass into Scout:
Name: Gerard
Rank: Vanguard
Level: 69
Status: 566/566 (Cocky)
Weapons: Golden Gilded Twinknives (x1).
And a Battlemage:
Name: Isaac
Rank: Crimson Mage
Level: 64
Status: 780/780
Weapons: Great Spell-Catalyst Zweihander.
¡°You¡­¡± Calaf said. Of course, that first party. They¡¯d traveled down the route well past Firefield and gained many more levels than Calaf, who¡¯d mostly been backtracking and fighting low levels for the past month. The late unpleasantness had prevented Isaac and Gerard from completing their journey up the ranks and reclassing. ¡°Yield, heretic!¡± the party said. ¡°Ah, you even take excommunicated into your ranks! How craven.¡± ¡°Wait, it¡¯s me!¡± Calaf declared. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ on a church mission,¡± Karol said, dazed. Karol¡¯s eyes were dilated. If she still had her Brand working, she would no doubt register some form of drug-based Status effect. The Brand could be reapplied, of course. But never had Calaf heard of the church actively scouring a Brand from a convert to fulfill some holy mission. They already had a man on the inside here! What task could Karol be expected to carry out? To say nothing of the fact that this task could only have come from one person¡­ The de-Branded crimson mage held out a knife. Only independent from her Scoured Interface was Calaf able to identify it:
Item: Reforged Silver Duran Dagger Description: A reforge dagger from melted Duran steel. (Req: 8 STR, 16 AGL)
¡°What is that for?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Calaf?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the gate guard! What¡¯s this, some kind of disguise?¡± A column of refugees fled, away from the castle, on the far side of the dormant archway. That got Jorge¡¯s attention. ¡°Leave these two!¡± he ordered. ¡°After them! Cut ¡®em off!¡± The party that had so long ago been idealistic and enterprising level ones ran off on the warpath. ¡°C¡¯mon. I¡¯m getting you out of here,¡± Calaf said. The pair got up and took off for Fort Duran. Church regulars had crashed against the line of Paladins loyal to Joan. One by one, these brave rebels were felled. Still, they held firm, allowing civilians and refugees to escape.
Chapter Fifty: The Power of Love Overcomes All
The doors and drawbridge of Fort Duran closed just as Calaf dragged Karol inside. Magical artillery rained fire into the bailey, causing the civilian refugees to scatter. Bows and arrows were the purview of Scout-types. A few of these were among Joan¡¯s legion, and they were all on the walls, towers, and ramparts. Spellcasting proved more useful for warfare under the Menu, and all available Battlemages were summoning meteors, thunderbolts, and miniature twisters from atop the fort¡¯s towers. Elemental magic was usually weighted toward offense rather than defense. While the anti-magical properties of the fort prevented the church from blowing a hole clear through the wall, it still left the defenders disadvantaged. A Towering Inferno XIII landed directly to Calaf¡¯s right, sending a fire tornado spiraling around the bailey. Calaf fell to his feet, and when he next came to Karol was nowhere to be found. Yell out Karol¡¯s name though he tried, there was simply too much noise and chaos to hear. Calaf ran into the interior banquet hall. All food had been scooped up and the tables rearranged to serve as blockades in a pinch. Meanwhile, Bishop Cayo stood in the center of the room. ¡°Faithful, stand firm,¡± said Cayo. ¡°Dread not. The enemy crowds around us, but with the holy child and Lady Joan¡¯s protection, we will defend you to our dying breaths.¡± Cayo brought forth blessings of protection and restoration, granting the crowd buffs. This seemed to allay the crowd¡¯s fears. ¡°Where is Joan?¡± asked a refugee. ¡°Leading our forces even now.¡± Cayo nods. Magical artillery burst against the walls, causing the fort to shake. Despite this, spirits remained high. Calaf pushed his way through the crowd. ¡°Where¡¯s Jelena?¡± he asked. ¡°Sister Turandot?¡± Cayo said. ¡°She said she was going to secure an avenue of escape.¡± Probably with Enkidu then. She¡¯d be in safe hands. The holy child, Zilara, stood beside the kindly monk. She held onto his hand. ¡°Can you do it, child?¡± Cayo asked. Zilara nodded. ¡°Sure thing, Hoss.¡± A soft glow came from Zilara¡¯s twin-Brand eyes as she glanced about. The room was gone to her, a fa?ade. And in its place¡­ ¡°There are so many elements of the System that have been cut off.¡± Zilara¡¯s fingers twiddled and flicked at random. ¡°Some were never used. Not by human hands.¡± As she worked, Calaf noticed a special status appear in his Interface.
Name: Caelus, Wayward Refugee (Recording¡­)
Rank: Shielder (Squire)
Level 12 (40)
Status: 36/36 (120/120)
Weapons: - Refugee¡¯s Walking Stick - Plain Travelers Clothes
¡°What¡­ is that?¡± Calaf asked. Looking around, he saw the ¡®Recording¡­¡¯ status displayed in most Interfaces. ¡°Should be transmitting,¡± Zilara said. ¡°What¡¯s ¡®Recording?¡¯¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Is someone writing down everything I say?¡± ¡°Everything you all see is now being sent out to the world at large,¡± Zilara said. ¡°People of the Menu,¡± Cayo said, looking out into the middle distance. ¡°Behold, the work of your church arbiters. On but a rumor of rebellion, they have laid low the region near the Battletower, slaying many who were but faithful pilgrims not long ago. The Hammer of Faith put the Battletower itself to the sword. And now they have done the same to Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. The citizens of this idyllic slope have been run out of homesteads and hamlets and seek refuge now at Fort Duran!¡± ¡°Help us!¡± yelled a random refugee. Cayo scanned the crowd, his ¡®recording¡¯ feature catching their frightened faces. ¡°We are barricaded in the fortress. Church arbiters close in on our haven even now. But the brave knights of Lady Joan of the capital plateau will defend these innocents with their lives.¡± Sounds came from the bailey now. Fellmarsh platinum against capital steel. Shouts and commands were bellowed from the ramparts. That Hush spell from Perarde had not gone into effect. Spells were still flying. The Church must want to fire off some spellcraft still. Despite this, the crash of magical artillery died down as the battle went on.
¡°How do we know if these recordings are having an effect?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± Zilaria said. ¡°Have faith.¡± Cayo rested his hand on a frightened refugee¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The world is our witness. This will give them pause.¡± ¡°W-what¡¯s the plan?¡± asked another. ¡°With the truth revealed to all, the ecumenical council and Archpope will surely have to call off their dogs. Popular uprising will erupt across the pilgrimage route, where we are strategically located to march up to the capital plateau, unite with friendly nobles, and march through Fellmarsh to the Grand Cathedral of the Menu.¡± Sounds of battle grew louder still. At the great door, in auxiliary halls, and even from the nearby kitchen. The crowd grew quiet. Then, there was the sound of shattering windows from high above. Stained glass sprinkled across the crowd. And in the rafters ¨C no, standing on twin barriers above the rafters ¨C was Baldr. ¡°There¡¯ve been rumors of a rogue Bishop, who forsook his vows to run off with some rebellious noblewoman,¡± Baldr said. ¡°You match the description.¡± Cayo urged the throngs of refugees behind him. Meanwhile, Baldr took his time picking out prey from his high perch. ¡°They say the apostates hid behind a levy of human shields. Civilians with no combat experience, even." Baldr grinned. He provided no indication whether or if he noticed Calaf in disguise amongst the crowd. "The world is watching your actions,¡± Cayo said, defiant. ¡°Oh?¡± Baldr¡¯s face did not change. ¡°Well, that makes very many assumptions.¡± With a flourish, Baldr activated his unique barrier-crafting abilities. Gold and greenish barriers in oblong and slender shapes manifested in and around various refugees'' vital spots. Two even appeared on Cayo¡¯s eyes. Whether anyone had the special ¡®recording¡¯ status or not, it made no difference. Calaf did a quick spot check on his person. He was unaffected. This was a form of execution he¡¯d seen used to tortuous effect not long ago, though.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Baldr held his fingers aloft and prepared to snap. ¡°No,¡± Cayo yelled with uncharacteristic baritone. He stomped the floor, casting:
Bishop Cayo Casts:
Spell: Aura of Dissipation
Effect: Dispel the effects of all spellcasting in a fifty-foot radius up to a height of ten feet. Cast time is near-instantaneous.
Description: This spell proved useful in navigating the fell miasma that surrounded the Demon King. ¡°Keep pressing! Though it may have Shackled us to this accursed life of slavery, we need not fear the magic of this foul demon!¡±
All at once, the barriers dissipated harmlessly. ¡°Well.¡± Baldr¡¯s lips pursed. ¡°That¡¯s a spell I haven¡¯t seen in a while.¡± ¡°Found the scroll in the Fellmarsh,¡± Cayo said. ¡°Ah. Well, that makes sense.¡± Baldr performed an acrobatic leap down to two more manifested barriers. ¡°Still, you cannot protect the entire room and yourself.¡± Cayo grimaced. ¡°Even with your actions revealed to the world, you threaten a defenseless flock?¡± ¡°Again, you greatly overestimate human nature. Heretic. Apostate. These labels terminate thoughts and designate you as outside the law. People need not hear anything about you to pass judgment, and will not care if they do happen to learn facts about your cause against their will.¡± ¡°We won¡¯t let you touch a hair on the flock¡¯s head!¡± Cayo said, defiantly. Baldr¡¯s smile grew wider. ¡°Brother, a pack of dire-wolves tear through a flock in a few minutes if you let ¡®em.¡± ¡°True. But if your church arbiters are dire-wolves in this analogy, you may wish to mind the dire-sheepdog,¡± Cayo said. ¡°The what?¡± Baldr¡¯s smile faded. Joan, Paladin, and defender of the reformation movement personally spearheaded by her, burst through another pane of stained glass at Baldr¡¯s back.
The Barriermeister and Paladin fell to the floor. Joan landed on her feet and planted her shield firmly on the ground, sword drawn. Baldr went sliding and stopped his momentum with a well-timed barrier at his back. ¡°The men hold firm at the walls!¡± Joan declared. ¡°Eh, pawns in a game.¡± Baldr shrugged. ¡°Off the king and queen and see how they rout.¡± A barrier tried manifesting itself along Joan¡¯s trachea, and again at her wrist. Joan smashed these with a mighty wave of her shield, then charged forward with a shield bash. Five barriers, each thicker than the last, were manifested in front of the Paladin, but she burst through each one with no loss of speed. The shield smashed into Baldr sending him reeling backward. Cayo continued to cast buffs over the entire room. Joan¡¯s offense, speed, and vitality were all increased in a field that happened to help the rest of the refugees as well. As if on instinct, Calaf cast a buff as well:
Calaf Uses:
Spell: Tautological Defense
Effect: Provides a Party-Wide Buff Equal to 25% of Caster¡¯s Defense.
Description: Developed during the early Church era out of deference to the martyred Paladin of Yore. ¡°Mia, behind me!¡±
Paladin Joan¡¯s already prodigious defense was buffered higher still! She gave a knowing look Calaf¡¯s direction, then returned to battle. ¡°That was unwise.¡± A voice came from directly behind Calaf. He froze and hazarded a look behind him. There, dressed in a long church arbiter¡¯s duster, was Walter. His long, long scimitar was covered in the blood of reformist knights. Without another word, Walter sidestepped Calaf and joined the fray. Baldr suddenly had a second, faster, more offensive partner to handle the offense while he concentrated on defense. Still, the battle raged. Joan kept the pair away from the refugees while Cayo kept a protective barrier on both his beloved and the flock. Joan blocked, struck out, stabbed, thrust, and parried, from two sides at once. And she was holding her own! Slices from Walter¡¯s unwieldy longsword did but scratch damage to her over-buffed defense, while she whittled the barely-armored Walter and even the barrier-mongering defenses of Baldr down, slowly but surely. The crowd of refugees began to cheer as she blocked again, redirected Walter¡¯s swing into Baldr, then kicked a barrier protecting both of them away and sent the barriermeister sprawling about on the floor. An uneasy pause was had. Walter on one end of the room, Baldr on his knees on the other. Joan standing in the middle with her towering shield and greatsword held in one hand each. The System battle record appeared thus:
Name: Walter
Rank: Hunter, Church of the Menu
Level: 93
Status: 950/1245 HP (Scratched Up)
Weapons: - Fell Skewer Longsword +5 (x1)
Name: Baldr, Arbiter of the Church.
Rank: Barriermeister
Level: 89
Status: 438/777 HP (Positively Fuming)
Weapons: - Fists - Barrier Talisman.
And, the star Paladin:
Name: Joan, Paladin
Rank: Paladin
Level 81
Status: 986/10001 (Hero of the Reformation)
Weapons: - Greatsword of True Faith (x1) - Tower Shield of the Capital Ramparts (x1)
Joan¡¯s HP ticked up a few points courtesy of a restoration spell from her beau. ¡°How the hell is she holding her own?¡± Baldr smashed one of his own barriers with his fists. ¡°She¡¯s just an ordinary human.¡± Spittle fell from Baldr¡¯s mouth. ¡°That is the power of faith and love,¡± Cayo answered simply. ¡°Indeed.¡± Joan smiled, self-satisfied. Just before the pair of arbiters reentered the fray, the banquet hall front doors were blown off their hinges. In emerged a figure in demon-bone mail and an unfathomable pool of hit points:
Name: General Perarde, Arbiter of the Church, Hammer of Faith
Rank: Paladin
Level: 95
Status: 25566/25568 (Indomitable)
Weapons: - Claymore of Gold (x1) - Shield of Impenetrable Defense +15 (x1)
Two Paladins in reformist colors stumbled in, heavily injured, while another lay skewered on the golden claymore. Perarde wiped his greatsword clean with one swing, dispatched the barely surviving soldiers with another, and then advanced, shield up, into battle. Again, Joan fought on, though she was vastly outnumbered now. Her defense was peerless, and while she¡¯d yet to land a blow on Perarde, she continued to keep Baldr and Walter at bay and left them too pressured to attack the flock. ¡°Ah, if that damnable bard would hurry up and get in here to buff us,¡± Baldr said, still drooling an inhuman amount of spittle. ¡°We will wear her down,¡± Walter said, patiently. A door at Cayo¡¯s back opened up. Out ran a tall woman with a familiar eyepatch. ¡°Got a back door. Everyone, through here!¡± ¡°Jelena?¡± Calaf asked. A blur ran out the door at her back. A rusty and ancient sword met Walter¡¯s long skewing scimitar. The battle was joined by a wild-haired, bearded man with no Menu designation at all. ¡°Oh, this guy again?¡± Baldr wailed. ¡°That godawful scent,¡± Walter said, sword locked with Enkidu. ¡°I¡¯ve smelled it before.¡± The two church heavies broke off to try and fail to keep this sword-wielding unbranded menace at bay. Perarde and Joan dueled now, chipping a dozen HP off each other here and there. But Perarde¡¯s HP pool was double hers. His level range was peerless, and attrition is a game he would inevitably win. ¡°Does the world see us?¡± Joan asked. ¡°How the arbiters of the church are kept at bay? How we¡¯re defending the innocent from their purging inquisition?¡± ¡°It¡¯s all recording, Hoss!¡± Zilara said. Perarde said nothing, focused entirely on the fight. ¡°The more we fight, the longer we last, the more the public shall surely rise in righteous fury!¡± With an escape route open, Jelena urged some of the civilians out through the back door. Many more wanted to stay, though, and began to cheer for Joan. ¡°Fight, my love! I believe in you, and our plan!¡± said All the while, Calaf stared on from the sidelines. Any more buffs risked bringing the Hammer of Faith down on him instead, and participation on any side of this battle wouldn¡¯t even deal a single HP¡¯s worth of damage. Cheers bolstered Joan with twin buffs: The Power of Faith from the crowd and the Power of Love from Cayo. With her strength, health, and defense all buffed, she fought Perarde on an equal footing. Meanwhile, Enkidu continued his whirlwind assault. It was unclear whether he knew who or why he was fighting but judging by the smile on his face he was enjoying it all immensely. ¡°They keep coming,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Sister Turandot, please get Zilara to safety,¡± Cayo said. ¡°Who, me?¡± Jelena asked. Cayo nodded. ¡°If any harm befalls us, any hopes of reforming the church fall upon her shoulders. Keep her safe. You have experience in keeping valuable relics out of church hands, yes?¡± With a nod, Jelena took Zilara by the hand and rushed off through the door. Still, the rest of the faithful stood firm and even more raucous in their support. Enkidu kept slicing HP off his foes here and there, while Joan kept the Hammer of Faith at bay with naught but her steely-eyed mettle and a bevy of buffs. Calaf couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing. Joan was holding her own. No, for a foe as peerless as this, she was practically winning! A member of the crowd brushed up against Cayo. ¡°Fret not, child,¡± said the Bishop. ¡°Oh? One without a brand? An excommunication? Fret not, we will protect you with our dying breath. Yes, the blessings of the Menu extend even to the most forsaken.¡± The figure ¨C a younger woman with short red hair that had recently been cut, shuddered. ¡°Is there¡­ any salvation? For those who die without brands? Or without bodies to consecrate.¡± Cayo turned away from the battle and put a hand on this wayward soul¡¯s shoulder. ¡°But of course, child.¡± That voice¡­ Calaf turned. He saw a woman in plain traveler¡¯s robes and a Scoured Brand on her upper shoulder. Out of her robes came a reforged silver dagger. ¡°Karol, no!¡± Calaf reached out, too late. With a mighty scream, Karol thrust the dagger out at Cayo¡¯s neck. Joan turned. ¡°Cayo!¡± If this were done via the System, under the governance of the Menu, Cayo would have a defense stat, multiple buffs, and his paltry armor to protect him. But with a Scoured opponent, that did not apply. The knife jabbed into his throat, again and again, growing red with blood after each stab. All at once, the many buffs the Bishop had been keeping up dissipated. Joan pushed Perarde away with one last shield bash and took off toward Cayo¡¯s position. Taking one last blow from Enkidu, Baldr stumbled back, then refocused on his new target. Twin barriers manifested at Joan¡¯s heels and ankles. Enkidu threw his sword at Baldr, landing a blow square through the chest. Another 100 HP loss, but the barriermeister was still alive. Alive and grinning wildly. Baldr snapped his fingers.
Chapter Fifty-One: Little Fort of Horrors
Moving like a bolt of lightning, Walter rushed up and swatted Karol aside like a knife that was no longer necessary. He rammed his long scimitar through Cayo¡¯s chest and lifted him off the ground. Joan¡¯s feet were gone. Obliterated by the disintegrated barriers. Baldr, meanwhile, had removed Enkidu¡¯s sword from his chest and limped off. Enkidu wasted no time in grabbing it again and charging at Perarde. Stab though he did, the wild man could not penetrate the Hammer of Faith¡¯s perfect defense. Retaliatory strikes from Perarde drew blood, though it showed no signs of stopping Enkidu. Out of options and his purpose as a force multiplier spent, Enkidu ran off to cover Jelena¡¯s retreat. ¡°Disgusting animal,¡± Perarde said through gritted teeth. One by one, the remaining refugees began to flee. ¡°Ah. Ha. We got them.¡± Baldr was down below two hundred HP. Joan lay on the floor, while Cayo¡¯s corpse slid further down Walter¡¯s sword. With a flourish, Baldr cast something called ¡®Coffin of Preservation¡¯ and Walter flicked Cayo against the wall. ¡°Have you no honor?¡± asked a brave civilian to Paladin Exemplar Perarde. ¡°To slay your enemy while they are distracted and with grief. Is this the church¡¯s chivalry?¡± Perarde pointed his golden sword at the civilian and muttered something.
General Perarde Casts:
Spell: Quick Holy Smite
Effect: Deals Stupendous Holy Damage to any target within 30 feet.
Description: Part of a more combat-oriented Paladin spell suite developed shortly after the formation of the Church. ¡°This is all I know. All the path to this place taught me. No different than the demons¡­¡±
This brave civilian was immolated, utterly disintegrating in a ray of golden light. What refugees remaining fled for their lives. ¡°Hey, we missed one.¡± Baldr nodded in Calaf¡¯s direction. ¡°Walter, skewer that one, will you?¡± Walter let out a grunt. ¡°That¡¯s our spy.¡± ¡°Ah. Right. I¡¯m so bad with faces. And he has a different name here.¡± Baldr applied some healing salves to bolster his lagging HP. ¡°You, there. Spy man. Go find and cut off the rest of ¡®em. Will you? There¡¯s a barrier around the perimeter, but still, rounding them up makes them easier to dispatch.¡± ¡°You could have blocked off the doors,¡± Walter said. ¡°Yes, but the chase is so fun.¡± Baldr approached Joan¡¯s body. Again, he addressed Calaf: ¡°Hey, new guy. Hurry it up and¡­¡± Joan¡¯s sword arm was thrust up, catching Baldr on the hand and severing two fingers, alongside a Bronze Ring of Title-Spoofing and a Silver Ring of Level-Spoofing Baldr¡¯s title changed:
Name: Baldr¡¯natch, the Desolate One
Rank: Barriermeister
Level: 96
Status: 480/1039 HP (Missing Finger)
¡°Damn it.¡± He snapped, throwing up barriers on Joan¡¯s sword arm and offhand wrist. ¡°Even hovering at ten hit points and going into shock she can still¡­ damn! Ah, a cut clear at the knuckles. They¡¯ll grow back soon enough. At least she didn¡¯t nick the glamour ring.¡± ¡°For a Barriermeister you have a lax sense of preservation,¡± Perarde said, frowning. ¡°We can¡¯t all play these stupid roles as well as you,¡± Baldr spat. ¡°Hey, Walt, trade your rings out with me.¡± ¡°I have to take this out.¡± Walter took his sword and ran it through Joan¡¯s shoulder, then began the long, slow process of dragging her outside. ¡°It¡¯s a public-facing role.¡± ¡°At least give me the level ring. You barely mask yours!¡± ¡°Go find the survivors in the keep and eliminate them all,¡± Perarde ordered. ¡°None will live to see this¡­ oversight.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Baldr said all at once. ¡°Did our spy see that? Ah, what¡¯s one patsy disposed of?¡± Perarde and Baldr glanced at the divot in the wall where Calaf had been standing. Only, he was long gone.
Calaf walked through the halls of Fort Duran in a daze. Everything he¡¯d just witnessed danced through his head. It felt like his body had an electric charge to it as he stumbled, balancing on the wall. That title. That level. The church arbiters were hiding their already prodigious levels. And what name was that? Calaf had ducked out while they were arguing and appeared to have gotten away thus far¡­ No sooner did Calaf assume this, however, that a wall at his back was disintegrated by a greenish barrier. ¡°Okay. There¡¯s a barrier out in the woods. You¡¯re not getting far. Just come out, get down on your knees. I¡¯ll off you quick; barrier inside the brainpan. You won¡¯t even notice!¡± Baldr ¨C or was it Baldr¡¯natch? ¨C strutted down the hall with characteristic nonchalance. He walked right past Calaf¡¯s hiding place in a drape-covered alcove. Only when the arbiter''s footsteps walked out of earshot and into the next room did the Squire dare breathe. Shortly after emerging from hiding, Calaf heard a quick scream cut short from where Baldr had been headed. What was Calaf to do? He could hardly stand alone against a level 89 ¨C let alone someone north of level 95! The gulf in power from level to level grew exponentially. If all the church arbiters were higher level than they put on, well, the reality of Joan¡¯s feat keeping them at bay for so long grew even more impressive. Joan. Cayo. Calaf exhaled sharply, his breath ragged. He refocused. Slowed his breathing until it was somewhere close to its resting rate. It still thumped in his chest, hypersensitive as he was right now. Another scream. People in this fort needed his help. Calaf took off in Baldr¡¯s direction, hoping to provide aid in whatever way he could. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
There weren¡¯t many people left to save. Refugees were shorn in half, slain with precision barriers to the trachea, and other totalizing, grizzly ends. A battle broke out in the interior halls soon enough. Surviving reformist knights performed a fighting retreat as they were swiftly outnumbered three-to-one by church loyalist forces. Calaf skirted the action as much as he could, following a trail of bodies with barrier-based wounds over to the keep¡¯s largest tower. Frightened refugees turned to level up baubles and used them to cast spells or wield weapons well above their rank. Back in the hinterlands this had been seen as power-mad laypeople working themselves up in a frenzy. Now, though, Calaf saw it merely as desperation attacks from outmatched and terrified civilians. Further away from the battle, the taunts of his foe grew louder: ¡°C¡¯mon out. I¡¯m quite adept at tracking. And the Brands from the holy bloodline leave a very specific scent.¡± Baldr¡¯s carefree tone echoed through the halls. Despite his best instincts, Calaf wasn¡¯t sure who was hunting who. Nevertheless, he stuck to the trail, and found his target soon enough. That cocky, twangy voice was threatening someone¡­ ¡°Hand over the girl, missy. And I¡¯ll let you go. Promise.¡± ¡°Not a chance,¡± countered a voice that was undoubtedly Jelena¡¯s. A door was ajar, a bloody handprint indicating the fate of the last poor fool who tried to open it. Calaf peeked inside. There was Baldr, standing at a ninety-degree angle to the door. And near a stairwell heading upwards to the top of the tower stood Jelena. A short girl in regal drill-tails hid behind the relic thief. ¡°Not a chance.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon.¡± Baldr threw his shoulders out in a great shrug. ¡°You¡¯re a criminal. A mercenary, yeah? Think about the payday!¡± Jelena held her gleaming, jagged daggers in a defensive crouch. ¡°She¡¯s a child.¡± ¡°A child born with the misfortune of being a threat to the holy bloodline. Look, it¡¯ll be over quickly.¡± Zilara peered at the Barriermeister from behind Jelena¡¯s waist. ¡°I know what you are,¡± the child said. Now was Calaf¡¯s chance, to leap to the defense of these two distressed maidens and provide them an avenue of escape! He stood zero chance in combat, but maybe he didn¡¯t need to fight the arbiter directly in order to set up a bluff. Calaf swiftly edited his Bronze Ring of Title Spoofing and Silver Ring of Level Spoofing:
Name: Corvo, Avenging Reformist Paladin
Rank: Paladin (Squire)
Level 92 (40)
Status: 13036/13036 (120/120)
Weapons: - Greatspear of Righteous Fury +15
So long as they didn¡¯t come to blows Baldr would never need to see him draw his nonexistent spear, and never notice that he had orders of magnitude less health than otherwise listed. And Baldr was horrible with faces. ¡°Stop right there, you fiend!¡± Calaf said, hamming it up as he kicked the door in. Jelena looked at this new intruder in the room and immediately realized it was Calaf. She subtly chewed on her lips, trying not to laugh. ¡°Level ninety-two!?¡± Baldr took two steps back. ¡°That¡¯s higher than Joan. There are maybe two dozen Paladins above level 90 ¨C and I know half of them. Just who the hell are you!?¡± ¡°You fiend!¡± Calaf repeated. ¡°Yes, I challenge you, Baldr¡¯natch! To single combat! Oh desolate one.¡± At the mention of his (true?) name, Baldr bristled. Back near the stairs, Jelena cocked her head. Her eyes darted around as if running through years of memorized church hymns and texts she was a little rusty on. ¡°Baldr¡¯natch? That¡¯s¡­ Jelena pushed Zilara back against the wall. For the first time since Calaf met her, she appeared frightened. ¡°What¡­ what are¡­ oh, never mind. Enkidu! Get him, buddy!¡± Enkidu complied, rushing down the stairs with his nicked, ancient sword drawn. The pair traded blows in a hurricane of crackling barriers and swinging blades so fast that Calaf couldn¡¯t interject if he tried. All the while, Baldr slowly made his way to a nearby window with some deft footwork. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for this lapdog of yours.¡± Baldr looked to Enkidu, then Jelena and Zilara, and then to the surprise level 92 heavy in the room. ¡°This would end a lot differently. Judging the fight not to be worth it, Balder disintegrated the window with a barrier and leaped out at an impossible distance from the ground.
As soon as they had some modicum of safety, Enkidu slammed shut and then barricaded the lone door into the tower. Everyone, save Enkidu, breathed a sigh of relief. For Enkidu¡¯s part, he was always on alert. ¡°What was all that about?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°That name, is that what his Interface says?¡± Jelena¡¯s good eye stared at Calaf, wide and alert. ¡°I saw they were hiding something in their Menus,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Same as this knight here.¡± Calaf took off his rings, operating on his ¡®true¡¯ title. ¡°Well one thing¡¯s for sure,¡± Jelena began. ¡°Church arbiters are hiding something. And if my Missionary lessons were accurate, I have a frightening hypothesis of what¡­¡± The holy child gazed at Calaf, her mood souring. ¡°If you¡¯re here, and that thing was here.¡± Zilara¡¯s head drooped. ¡°Then Hoss and¡­¡± ¡°There there.¡± Jelena knelt and hugged Zilara around the shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re getting you out of here. A promise is a promise.¡± While she was a thief, her sense of honor seemed peerless even compared to Paladins. Calaf smiled. The young heir was in good hands. But Jelena turned and looked at Calaf with a fierce, accusatory glare in her eye. ¡°Calaf, this is a child. If the church catches her, they¡¯re going to¡­¡± she scowled. ¡°Let us go. You and I have a history, clearly. And something isn¡¯t what it seems. I know you¡¯re about to go on about honor or something but¡­ there¡¯s something serious afoot in the church, now.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ this isn¡¯t¡­¡± Calaf stammered. Zilara stared from behind Jelena. ¡°You are wearing their Menu designation.¡± ¡°I.. I..¡± Footsteps were coming up the stairs. Soon they would be pounding on the door. Breaking in. ¡°I can dispatch this group,¡± Enkidu said offhandedly. ¡°But if they¡¯re storming the tallest tower, it likely means the rest of the Fort has fallen. Or will soon.¡± ¡®We should go,¡¯ went unsaid. Calaf turned to Jelena. ¡°Go. I¡¯ll escort you to whatever escape route you have planned.¡± The relic thief¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Calaf. I¡­ Thanks.¡±
They made it halfway up the tower when they encountered a familiar face. Jelena and another unbranded figure collided with each other on the stairs. A figure with scalp-short red hair cartwheeled into a stairway alcove. ¡°Karol?¡± Calaf rushed to her side. ¡°Is that you?¡± The former crimson mage looked to Calaf, then Jelena. Her head swayed about and her eyes were unnaturally wide. ¡°I was going to jump,¡± she said. ¡°My mission is complete. But¡­ I couldn¡¯t. Instead, I¡¯m going to¡­¡± Karol held out some strange berries in her hand.
Item: Wild Riverglen Nihilberries Description: Berries from the barren areas far south of Riverglen. So poisonous that they render a target¡¯s body incapable of being consecrated
¡°Where did you get this?¡± ¡°She said once my mission was done I could end it. Be together with my brother in annihilation.¡± Karol went to try and eat the berries. Calaf quickly leaped in her way. ¡°There¡¯s no¡­¡± he tried wrestling the berries out of her hand. ¡°Way for me to loot something in somebody else¡¯s hand like this. Jelena, stop her!¡± With a swift kick, Jelena swatted the berries away. Sobbing, Karol pushed Calaf away and ran down the stairs. ¡°Damnit,¡± Calaf said. ¡°I¡­ I should go after her.¡± Sounds of the advancing army were heard from downstairs. There would be no time to pursue. At least not yet. ¡°Getting you out of here comes first,¡± he told Jelena. The pair rushed up the stairs, each with a hand in Zilara¡¯s, urging her onward.
The trio closed every door they encountered in the tower on their way to the rooftop. Atop the highest point of the fortress, they received a perfect view of the desolation that had come to Fort Duran, as well as the earliest pale-purple discoloration of dawn in the East. Jelena¡¯s coveted escape route happened to be an extended rope gliding down to a birch well away from the outer perimeter. It was still dark enough that three figures could slide down and make a run for it into the forest. ¡°We led as many people as we could up here,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Everyone else has already made the descent. I think a few more tried fleeing out the Eastern gate. Hopefully, someone made it.¡± ¡°Hopefully.¡± Calaf nodded. Enkidu went first, with Zilara riding on his back. He used his sword as a brace to zip along the rope. ¡°Go,¡± Calaf implored Jelena. ¡°I¡¯ll misdirect them.¡± ¡°Lying.¡± Jelena smiled. ¡°That¡¯s unbecoming a Paladin, surely.¡± Before he could say anything, Jelena leaned in and kissed him. So taken aback was Calaf that his lips could hardly react. Still, she pressed hers against his all the same. ¡°Thank you,¡± Jelena said. Then, when Calaf didn¡¯t say anything more: ¡°Relax, handsome.¡± Her lips angled upward. ¡°If I initiate, it doesn¡¯t have any effect on your vows or Menu designation or titles.¡± Calaf stared at her as the first light of dawn peaked over the ramparts. If they weren¡¯t standing above a massacre site, he¡¯d gladly ruin all titles and forsake all vows to join her. ¡°I¡¯m already a relic thief. What¡¯s it matter if I steal a kiss too?¡± Jelena winked her good eye. ¡°Go on,¡± he said, composing himself. ¡°Ahem. Go. I¡¯ll misdirect the others.¡± ¡°Not what chivalry would dictate but still. That¡¯s honorable of you.¡± Jelena turned to the rope. ¡°As for your fianc¨¦, uh, have fun? I guess? I¡¯ll try not to crash the wedding.¡± ¡°Charlotte.¡± Calaf rasped. ¡°I¡¯ll need to get back to Riverglen. Karol said¡­¡± But Calaf couldn¡¯t finish the sentence. With a knowing nod, Jelena turned and used a spare bit of leather from her bodice to zip down the rope.
Calaf noticed some rubble at the top of the tower. He picked it up¡­
Item: Rampart Rubble (x5) Description: Essential material used to elevate one¡¯s rank from Squire to Paladin. Requires level 65.
If he kept ahold of this until he reached the proper level, Calaf¡¯s path to Paladin would already be assured. Nevertheless, Calaf selected the item and chose ¡®discard,¡¯ sending it falling off the tallest tower. He didn¡¯t deserve it. Shortly thereafter, a party of heavily armed, high-level Paladins ascended the stairs. Before they reached the top and after Calaf saw Jelena come to a stop deep in the woods, he took his auxiliary knife and cut the rope. ¡°This tower is cleared,¡± he reported. ¡°Some tried to escape through the basement dungeons. After them!¡± The ruse stuck. Soon multiple parties were descending on the dungeons. Calaf approached an amenable-looking knight on his way down the tower. ¡°Did you see a woman with a Scoured Brand? With short, red hair?¡± The knight shrugged. ¡°Without a brand, I wouldn¡¯t have occasion to recall anyone''s name!¡± Calaf grimaced. ¡°At the very least, everyone else in this tower was dead before we got here,¡± the knight concluded, then made for the dungeons. What more could be done? She no doubt had a trail that could be followed. But in the chaos that followed the battle of Fort Duran, how was he supposed to track her?¡± Once more, Calaf looked at these poisonous berries Karol had been provided. She¡¯d been sent here with a purpose, through the portal. Only because he¡¯d called in and confirmed the location of that portal from the Battletower basement. Calaf chewed his cheek guiltily. And who would¡¯ve tasked Karol with this assassination mission? Scoured her Brand to ensure she wasn¡¯t hampered by any level deltas. Tell her it was the only way to be of use to the church now that her reunion with her brother in the promised hereafter was no longer possible. Calaf¡¯s grip on the berries tightened. He put them back in his Inventory before he wound up with a hand full of poisoned juice.
Chapter Fifty-Two: All Over But the Crying
¡°Glory to our heroes of the faith!¡± Proclaimed a Troubadour from the church¡¯s army. ¡°A great hammer against apostasy!¡± Jorge¡¯s party stood in a row before lines of fiercely loyal church soldiers. ¡°These newly-minted faithful, who started their pilgrimages this very year, were the rearguard that prevented apostate forces from retreating!¡± A Paladin from General Perarde¡¯s inner circle marched up and presented the journeyman party with medals proving their loyalty to the church. ¡°It was just a group of fleeing civilians¡­¡± Isaac said after a time. The knight handed him a medal all the same. ¡°Soldiers against corruption! Let none escape unpunished!¡± yelled the crowd. ¡°So many children. Mothers.¡± Sarah hunched over, deflated. ¡°Just trying to get out.¡± ¡°Doing your duty under the Menu! Protecting the sanctity of the System and its Interface!¡± Calaf observed the awards ceremony from a tree at the edge of the now-smoldering battlefield. ¡°Just like the heroes of old!¡± cried the crowd. But the party had run through defenseless civilians. They were no heroes. Not like those from the stories of saints, valiantly defending the faith. ¡°Just like the saints,¡± bellowed the crowd of soldiers in unison. ¡°But this was not the action of saints,¡± Sarah mouthed from the presentation stage. ¡°They were champions of justice. Bulwarks against corruption. Not¡­ Not¡­¡± Sarah and Calaf seemed to have a revelation at the same time. For if these murders of fleeing families were smiled upon by the church, and they were comparable to the saints of old, then those saints were no bulwarks against corruption. They were¡­ ¡°Hail soldiers of the faith! Slayers of heretics! May they be a shining example to all who walk the pilgrimage path!¡±
Calaf walked through the woods alone. No sign or reports indicated that Jelena had been killed or captured, or even seen fleeing the battle. With Enkidu there, she was hardly in danger. Together they could keep Zilara away from church hands. Though to what ends, none could say. He would have to find Karol. Before she hurt herself, or anyone else. With his poor tracking skills, that would be easier said than done. But Calaf had his suspicions that she¡¯d try to return to the person who handed her these nihilberries. The squire headed south, ignoring all further work to be done amidst the ruins of Fort Duran. Bodies of the slain on both sides needed to be conflagrated, but that was the work of Battlemages. Healing was the purview of Clerics. The Paladins (and their lower-ranked cousins) were defenders and fighters. Their job was done. So, Calaf headed south along the pilgrimage route. Get to Riverglen. Hopefully, find Karol along the route and find out exactly what happened. Such was the plan. Along the way though, Calaf happened upon a most grizzly scene. Two mighty stakes were bored into a rocky outcropping with a good view of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, the ruins of Fort Duran, and the desert far to the south. There, standing around these stakes, were the Arbiters of the faith.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. General Perarde with his retinue of unquestionably loyal Paladins. Baldr, or whoever he truly was, slouching against a rock cockily. Walter, staring about aloofly. And Klavier, strumming his Ruan, singing out a mocking tune. There, tied to the largest stake, was Joan. A church Cleric in high standing held aloft the branding iron. At Perarde¡¯s instruction, this cleric Branded another limb on the fallen Paladin¡¯s body. There were already five Brands. More than one was redundant. ¡°The better to ensure you can meet your beloved when the blessed reunion arrives!¡± japed a Paladin, to uproarious laughter from the unit. Cayo¡¯s corpse was tied to the other stake. At -4 HP, he¡¯d been successfully consecrated for promised resurrection. Only, they¡¯d gone and branded his corpse from every conceivable angle. With each torture, Joan¡¯s already perilous HP dropped. As it neared zero, clerics waiting in the wings would heal her about halfway, and then the ritual would begin again. Calaf averted his eyes from the scene. It was right by the roadside, impossible to miss. They¡¯d be impaled here until the next pilgrimage season. A grim message and warning for all to see.
¡°Ahem. May I have my snail back?¡± The voice came from directly behind Calaf. Baldr was there. His fingers were back, healed as if they¡¯d never been severed. Possible with clerical healing, or perhaps there was some other force at work. Baldr opened the trading interface expectantly. Wordlessly, Calaf handed back the Porcelain Snail of One-Way Audio. ¡°Cheers.¡± Baldr performed a joyless smile, then walked away. Not for the first time Calaf was glad that man was face blind.
¡°Sir.¡± Calaf approached Sir Perarde during a lull in the torture ceremony. ¡°Why if it isn¡¯t that aspiring Squire,¡± said Perarde. ¡°The man of the hour. We owe you a great deal.¡± Calaf did not say thank you. ¡°Chivalry. What does it mean? The code of honor. What responsibilities does it give you to defeated enemies?¡± For the first time in Calaf¡¯s presence, the old General¡¯s stone walled fa?ade broke, and he let out a chuckle. ¡°Why, the code of chivalry is a call to honor and duty that binds us all. For instance, take your defeated enemies. A good knight should always be aware of his power and limitations. A Paladin with a palatial estate and holdings can take his bested enemies as slaves. But if you don¡¯t have those resources? Why, simply slaying them outright is the just and honorable position.¡± The Paladins among the General¡¯s personal honor guard cheered. ¡°Yes! What an honorable outlook!¡± ¡°To only take battle-slaves you can afford to support. What chivalry!¡± ¡°A beacon of justice and righteousness for the Church! An example for all church faithful to follow!¡± Calaf could get no further word in over the Paladins congratulating their senior over his peerless sense of honor.
The torturers took a break, venturing off to the far side of the roadway for another self-congratulatory award ceremony. Calaf was free to approach the stakes. He examined Joan, with her HP kept as low as possible but purposefully maintained above zero. So broken was her body and deep was her shock that she did not notice his approach, instead staring only at the fallen, strung-up Cayo. The Squire pulled out the Wild Riverglen Nihilberries. There were enough here to slay two fully-leveled men. Furtively, he gave one dose to Joan via his Interface. He then walked over to Cayo, whose corpse was maintained at a consecrated -4 hit points. Calaf applied the poison to this corpse as well. The Interface did the trick, but placing the berries in the dead Bishop¡¯s mouth would work all the same. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Calaf turned and walked away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Poison would take effect. Hit Points would drop steadily, and the couple would decay beyond the point where they could be consecrated for later resurrection and torture in the church¡¯s promised golden age. They would die a final death together. In doing so, they would be free from the inquisitor¡¯s brand, the jeering soldiers, the mocking bard¡¯s insulting lyrics, and Perarde¡¯s ever-so-slight smirk. Calaf walked with his head down. He traveled south, still hoping to find some sign of Karol along the long road home. Clouds loomed ahead, indicating moisture condensing as they passed the desert and neared the autumnal highlands. It would be raining soon. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± None were around to hear his apology. After a few minutes, with the rock outcropping and the fort and all the smoke and blood well behind him, Calaf received a System pop-up¡­ Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 41
Strength: 44 (+1)
Endurance: 62 (+1)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 21
Arcane: 9
Luck: 33
The experience from the kill. Slaying someone of such a higher level, even like that, was valid. And the level delta granted a truly exorbitant amount of XP. He¡¯d been fighting lower levels so much that he didn¡¯t realize he hadn¡¯t been getting more than a pittance back in the hinterlands. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± The first droplets of rain bounced off the forest¡¯s lush canopy. Without a word, Calaf began to sob.
Chapter Fifty-Three: This One Is Of Mettle of Nerve, And Has Her Mind Concluded
Jelena Turandot held on to a strap of leather torn off her bodice as she zipped along a pre-prepared rope sending her deep into the woods of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. She slowed as the rope leveled out, and then, when she was reasonably certain she wasn¡¯t flying along at suicide speeds, she dropped to the forest floor. A cushion of leaves broke Jelena¡¯s fall. She jumped out, ensured her eyepatch was still in place, and then ran along her designated escape route. She just barely noticed the rope go slack, Calaf having cut off the zipline to prevent pursuit. The sounds of battle were well behind them. A deathly warm glow of fire lit the path. Enkidu had a several-second head start which meant he¡¯d already rushed well ahead to clear the path. He was holding a twelve-year-old on his back though, so each foot had an extra weight to it that made him easier to track. One aspect of being integrated into the System that Jelena missed? Night vision. It was so much easier to denote a path and designate a trail of footsteps under the warm bluish glow of the Menu. But this was no time to get distracted by the siren¡¯s song of nostalgia. Jelena refocused and continued running. Ferns and branches rustled in her wake. The trail grew darker as it led away from the burning fort. So dark, that Jelena almost didn¡¯t see a uniform golden sheen blocking her route. Jelena stopped on a dime. Enkidu paced about just off the trail, testing this barrier with his sword. A handful of civilians waited on the opposite side of the trail. Some had rushed head-first into the barrier and had the bloody noses to show for it. ¡°There¡¯s no way out!¡± cried one. This small crowd was less than half of what Jelena had led to safety. They¡¯d hit the barrier, panicked, and fled. Only, they were caged in here. Trapped by this barrier of gold. Again, Enkidu paced from side to side. ¡°I should be able to force the barrier open temporarily if I can stab it at just the right angle.¡± Enkidu held his sword out, testing its weight. ¡°It will have to find an opening at a microscopic level. And it will not stay open for long.¡± Jelena held her chin in her hand. ¡°Hmmm. It had better work. Or this is the end of the road.¡± If they only could have slain that Barriermeister. The whole thing would come crashing down. Alas, that arbiter had a secret that put even his mortality into question. Zilara stood dead center in the trail, observing all this with dull silver-colored eyes. ¡°I can do it,¡± she said. ¡°Oh?¡± Jelena glanced over. ¡°You can make an opening?¡± ¡°Not just an opening,¡± said the holy child. ¡°I can break it.¡± Jelena¡¯s eyebrow raised. ¡°Hmm? You can do that?¡± ¡°Stand back.¡± Zilara put a hand on the golden barrier. The Brands in her eyes refracted the glow.
Zilara, Holy Child Uses: State Edit (Deactivate) Effect: Removes or Alters Object with Subjective Actions Based on Function. Turns ¡®off¡¯ physical/magical barriers and other obstacles.
Just like that, the wall of gold began to disintegrate starting where Zilara¡¯s hands lay. This decay spread outward, leaving their path ahead wide open. The fleeing refugees didn¡¯t wait for a cue or order, they just ran. ¡°That¡¯ll allow anyone else who¡¯s trying to flee to escape.¡± Jelena smiled, still looking at the holy child. ¡°You are handy.¡± A rustling of ferns came from the path at their back. Chainmail clinked together at the joints. ¡°Soldiers. Paladins, by the armor rating.¡± Enkidu sniffed the air. Jelena offered a hand to Zilara. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s mosey.¡±
The trio ran for hours, heading west as far away from the church-controlled roads and trading posts as possible. The sun rose at their back, but they countered this loss of stealth by heading into the deepest parts of the forest. When the holy child grew tired, the pair of relic thieves took turns carrying her on their backs.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Only after a day and a half¡¯s constant flight across streams and through dire-elk mating glens to throw off their scents did Jelena and Enkidu deem it safe to stop and make camp. Even then, they went without a campfire. ¡°Whew.¡± Jelena rested her weary legs as she lounged about on a log. ¡°Helluv a night.¡± ¡°Hoss¡­¡± Zilara closed her eyes and let out a pout. ¡°Kid,¡± Jelena¡¯s expression softened. ¡°C¡¯mere.¡± The relic thief hugged the holy child. Enkidu watched on, expression neutral. ¡°Missing the orphanage?¡± Enkidu asked. ¡°Actually, yes.¡± Jelena patted Zilara¡¯s back. ¡°We¡¯ll keep you safe, kiddo.¡± With the hug complete, Jelena looked into this child¡¯s eyes. The twin eye brands, the mark of the Holy Cleric, were in both eyes. Impossible to Scour without rendering the girl entirely blind. And it would also make her stick out anywhere they traveled along the pilgrimage route. Merely having these brands, even with tenuous relation to the Archpope and the holy bloodline, was enough to make any lowly initiate an instant celebrity. So long as Zilara lived, she¡¯d be hunted by the church. As a distant cousin to the reigning Archpope and heir of the Paladin and Cleric of Yore, her very existence rendered her a walking risk of rebellion. And now this instant, living wanted poster was the ward of two criminals who were nominally trying to stay off the church¡¯s radar for a while¡­ ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Jelena said. ¡°We¡¯ll keep you safe. Isn¡¯t that right, big guy?¡± Enkidu grumbled. ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°See, nothing to fear while we are here~¡± Jelena said in a singsong tone. ¡°Affirmative.¡± Zilara nodded. ¡°Hey, kid. About that ¡®record¡¯ feature.¡± It was no feature of the Holy Menu that Jelena had heard about during her church-mandated education. Perhaps there were things about the Interface that even deacons of some renown did not understand. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a background feature. Ready to go, never activated.¡± Zilara shrugged. ¡°Did it work? Did others have all that video¡­ transmitted, to them?¡± ¡°Af-firmative.¡± Zilara nodded again. ¡°Cut out around the time you pulled me out of the main hall. But I saw all three of those church arbiters.¡± ¡°Can you play it back?¡± Jelena asked. With a nod, Zilara got to work. It took some coaxing, but she retrieved the data. ¡°I want to see the bit where we encountered that barrier warrior. That Baldr.¡± Or was it Baldr¡¯natch? Jelena shuddered. That name pulled up some deep-seated, instinctual fear in her she couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°Guess neither of you have a viable Brand.¡± Zilara looked to her new caretakers in turn. ¡°I¡¯ll run the playback on mine. Even Brandless should be able to see it.¡± The child¡¯s eyes glowed once more. A familiar blue screen thereabouts four feet by three feet appeared at some distance from Zilara¡¯s face, pointed outwards.
A recreation of Joan¡¯s last stand played out. She held Baldr, Walter, and Perarde at bay with naught but her skill, buffs from her followers, and a timely assist from Enkidu. It was like watching one of those passion plays, but in high fidelity that was freakishly adherent to the actual events. ¡°This is through Cayo¡¯s eyes, isn¡¯t it?¡± Jelena asked with a hint of sadness. Zilara nodded, causing the Interface window to wobble. ¡°Can you stop the image while it¡¯s playing?¡± The video paused as Joan effortlessly blocked a sword swipe from Walter with her sword and bashed her shield against Perarde¡¯s own. The interfaces of the three church arbiters were visible. ¡°So I can tell when people are wearing false rings,¡± said Zilara. ¡°Can¡¯t dispel the Glamour rings at my level, but they¡¯ve all got one. I can reveal their names and level ranges though. That¡¯s how I caught your boyfriend.¡± ¡°He is not¡­¡± Jelena paused. ¡°Ahem, yet.¡± Zilara snickered. ¡°Just do your magic and show the titles, kid.¡± Over on a stump of his own, Enkidu let out a rough snorting exhale. ¡°Here ya go.¡± The three arbiters¡¯ true titles were revealed in this video with a wave of Zilara¡¯s fingers:
Name: Baldr¡¯natch, the Desolate One
¡°When Calaf said that name. It was from an old church book. Not scripture. More a bestiary,¡± Jelena said. And for Walter, the agile one blending Battlemage and more rogue-like techniques:
Name: Walter¡¯teph, Sinner-Skewer
¡°Hell. That sounds bad,¡± Jelena said. But the last arbiter, though. The Hammer of Faith, had a true title that was less directly ominous but far from his church-official role.
Name: Perarde Stonewall, the Prideful, Knight Templar of Unquestioned Order
¡°I need to find some church archives. This is potentially a find of church-unraveling proportions!¡± ¡°Where are you going to go?¡± Zilara tilted her head. To think that, even after taking her eye out and operating outside the Menu¡¯s grace, Jelena had mostly been trying to keep to herself. At no point was she out to overthrow the church, though she¡¯d slain a few ranking churchmen in her day. But with this, and with Zilara, apostasy was upon her whether she asked for it or not. All this, from having sold that relic to some wandering trader at fire sale prices. Babysitter duty was still within the realm of Jelena''s chosen role -- both the old one back at the Japella church mission''s orphanage, and her more recent career as a relic hunter. Zilara was just a larger, brattier, more sentient relic than what Jelena normally nicked. And she always was good with kids... Jelena shrugged. ¡°We''re heading back south.¡± The burnt-over mission library at Japella may yet have some books left to pick through. And if not, the grand treehouse archives of Deepwood most certainly would. What¡¯s more, they were going to need help. ¡°You¡¯re going to go looking for him again aren¡¯t you?¡± Enkidu asked. Without a word, Jelena nodded. There was at least one sympathetic figure in the region who still drew breath. ¡°C¡¯mon, kid. We¡¯re heading out,¡± Jelena told Zilara. ¡°You too, Enkidu. Cut south, should put more distance between us and anyone tracking us from the fort.¡± ¡°Heh. Sure thing, new Hoss,¡± Zilara said.
Chapter Fifty-Four: This One is But Flesh and Faith, and Is the More Deluded What was a Paladin? A defender of faith. A soldier against corruption. A stone wall of defense. A pawn used to decimate unwitting common folk in some obtuse dynastic clerical power struggle. Putting both civilians and well-meaning reformists to the sword. Calaf trudged along as the cool and gentle slopes of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt gave way to the harsh rocky outcroppings and sandy dunes of the Firefield desert. What did it mean to be a ranking member of the church faithful? To provide gentle guidance to the faithful on their pilgrimage? To groom and manipulate the heartbroken into committing sinful acts in the church¡¯s good name? The Squire¡¯s armor felt sticky, ill-fitting on Calaf¡¯s person. He didn¡¯t want it. He didn¡¯t want this extra level, either. If he could give it back. If he could have headed home after the Battletower, nay, just shirked that crusader¡¯s call and traveled straight back to Riverglen. At least the blood wouldn¡¯t be on his hands. Yet even now duty called out to Calaf. Someone had to have done it. Someone¡¯s soul would have been stained with guilt. It would itself be a sin to let someone else experience that tragedy in his stead. His Interface had reverted:
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer.
Rank: Squire
Level: 41
Status: 126/126 (Crestfallen)
Gone was his ¡®crusader¡¯ designation, as the job was done. He was back to just a wanderer, traveling the route with no set purpose. The sun grew higher in the sky as he marched, alone, through the dunes. The high desert¡¯s temperatures only grew worse in the off-Pilgrimage season. Still, Calaf followed the path, empty this time of year though it was. At least Jelena made it out, he thought. And that miracle child. At least it wasn''t for nothing. The sullen Squire lost track of time as he wandered along in a fugue state. But at some point in the first day, he reached a watering hole. A few squat buildings in a local adobe style awaited, as did a well. Calaf walked over and drank from the well. ¡°Oi, that will be five gold for the pleasure,¡± said a water merchant. Indeed, three enterprising water merchants stood near a second well, each evidently the master of one of three watering holes on the property:The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Name: Iosef, Water Merchant
Rank: Trailblazer
Level: 28
Status: 79/79 (Smug)
Name: Rolo, Water Merchant
Rank: Stalwart
Level: 34
Status: 90/90 (Haughty)
Name: Glenn, Water Merchant
Rank: Trailblazer
Level: 30
Status: 84/84 (Conceited)
The trio were not locals to the desert, having more of a Port Town and Plains Junction countenance about them. Settlers, offering a small trading post right before entering Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. Calaf paid the gold. He was still numb, and he had no shortage of coins on him. Despite the merchant¡¯s racketeering, it was practically charity. They didn¡¯t have much out here in this lonesome abode. ¡°Pleasure doin¡¯ business with you,¡± said Glenn. One last sliver of hope remained in the Paladin-aspirant¡¯s mind. That recording. The testament of Cayo and Joan¡¯s noble but doomed crusade. Had it gotten out to the masses? ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Calaf, still parched. ¡°Did you receive any strange Systems Messages from the north? Maybe in the form of a moving picture?¡± Iosef nodded. ¡°Yup. Saw the whole thing. Couple parties headed Firefield-ways saw it too.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Calaf¡¯s spirits rose, hopeful. ¡°So, the testament. Of that Bishop, and the refugees trapped in the battle? People know of it?¡± ¡°Yeah. Those arbiters sure shishkabobbed them right and proper!¡± Rolo said to uproarious laughter from the other two. Calaf¡¯s face broke, adopting a neutral stance. It wouldn¡¯t move, try as he might. He walked a few steps past the well, aiming to move on and keep moving until he reached Firefield. ¡°Heh. My daughter went off to some mage¡¯s college and started spouting them funny ideas,¡± said Iosef. ¡°Went on about ¡®true historical record¡¯ contradicting the sermons and the like. Sure wish the church¡¯d go inquisition that lot. Wipe their smug grin right off their faces, it would!¡± ¡°Y-your.¡± Calaf struggled to speak, parched such that he was. He turned to face the merchants once more. ¡°Yuh? You were saying?¡± Glenn asked, oblivious. ¡°You saw the fighting. How refugees with nothing to their name were killed without hesitation. You want the inquisition to come for your own daughter?¡± ¡°What of it?¡± The desert yokel tilted his head like he didn¡¯t even notice anything wrong. ¡°Won¡¯t even talk to me no more. Said it was a sin just to own this place. I kicked those unbranded desert nomads out of this watering hole fair and square. Wouldn¡¯t be thinking that if it weren¡¯t for them haughty taughty mages puttin¡¯ funny ideas into her head. Yeah, weren¡¯t for them professors, she¡¯d let me see my grandkid!¡± ¡°Your own daughter¡­¡± Calaf repeated. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± Iosef looked offended. ¡°With them church arbiters after her I bet she¡¯d come cryin¡¯ back home singing a different tune is all. Teach her not to open her purdy mouth, it would. You¡¯re a soldier ain¡¯t ya? Surely you know how it is with these high-minded learned folk disrespectin¡¯ the church.¡± Calaf felt a full-body shudder convulse from his toes to his head. A migraine flared, like a war hammer to his temple. His arm felt sweaty, sweltering in its shoulder pauldron. Behold, the good people of the church! Some part of him said. The flocks of faithful to be defended. Their common wisdom to be commended. An old, familiar voice cropped up in the Squire''s head, last heard in that dank hollow beneath the Port Town lighthouse: I¡¯ve heard you. Seen your story... from the hollowed eye socket of a dire-camel outside of Firefield. Yes, there were many ways to perish in the desert. None would ever know... His left hand tightened its grip around his Redstone Spear of the Desert Nomads. The water merchants scarcely noticed his internal struggle. ... And the only thing holding Calaf back was the desire not to grant that fetid thing another six eyes by which to see. The spear trembled, unsteady, as he held it by his side. Chapter Fifty-Five: Rivers in the Desert
Part Three: Losing My Religion (Or: An REM Soliloquy)
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer.
Rank: Squire
Level: 41
Status: 126/126 (Dehydrated (level 4))
Status: Dehydration (level 4) Effect: STR -4, END -4, CHR -2, AGL -6, INT -2. Debuffs with a bevy of reduced core stats. Effect compounds with higher levels of dehydration.
There was no further watering hole on the north side of the desert. The path was well-tread, sand compressed and even sunken into the ground in a deep gully at points. Still, the sands baked under the oppressive high summer sun. Unknown hours, maybe days, passed. Calaf¡¯s negative status ticked higher:
Status: Dehydration (level 5) Effect: STR -5, END -6, CHR -4, AGL -6, INT -4. Debuffs with a bevy of reduced core stats. Effect compounds with higher levels of dehydration.
Behold, the good people of the church! The unwanted thought crept into Calaf¡¯s head. The salt of the earth. Those whose livelihood you were duty-bound to protect. Such was the definition of Paladin. A champion of chivalry. Hammer of the faith. Sand sunk into his armored boots as Calaf walked. Weighing him down further. The purpose of chivalry was to protect the innocent. The reality of chivalry was to smite enemies, real or perceived. The purpose of Calaf¡¯s shield was to be a great, implacable wall against evil and corruption. In reality, his shield was meant to protect a designated holy site so pilgrims could run through it in an assembly line, one after another. The purpose of a Paladin was to be a defender of the faith with honor and discipline. In reality, the role was to serve as brute muscle for the church, a dumb and expendable spear for hire used to dispatch reformists that the masses at large would only ever consider to be heretical apostates. But if Joan and Cayo were the standard for heretics, then countless apostates of old were surely well-meaning and had been dispatched just as ruthlessly. Never had Calaf been quite so disillusioned. The bright golden sand of the desert appeared muted and grey. Perhaps his Menu was mis-calibrated. A dire-elephant skull stood at the edge of the path. The spot where its nose once sat was now hollow. Like a single big eye staring back at the Squire. Etchings in the whitewashed skull indicated spots where generations of pilgrims had written their names into this landmark over the years. There hadn¡¯t been dire-elephants in the desert for many centuries. Try though he did to recall when they went extinct in this region, that debuff to his Intelligence stat was getting in the way. It was the only landmark Calaf had seen all day. He left it behind without investigating, having lost all appetite for being in the presence of death.
Firefield appeared in the far distance, aglow in the night and a wavy haze during the day. It remained there after two days of travel. Ever distant but seemingly within reach, constantly and forever. The next watering hole was dried up for the season. His canteens were empty. And that dehydration status kept creeping up slowly and steadily.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it A night passed with Calaf trying to press on. When dawn came and the scorching sun rose overhead, he found he¡¯d barely cleared a single dune. With every step, he was beginning to move slower...
Status: Dehydration (level 8) Effect: STR -8, END -8, CHR -5, AGL -10, INT -6. Debuffs with a bevy of reduced core stats. Effect compounds with higher levels of dehydration. Reduces HP by half.
With maximum HP now capped at 63, Calaf had taken an even greater hit to his combat preparedness. This was growing dangerous, even deadly. He needed to find any amount of water. A full canteen, condensation dripping off a palm tree¡¯s ferns. Hell, drool from a dire-camel. Anything would do! Calaf fell to his knees. He felt the dehydration gauge skyrocketing upwards. Another level and it would be too late. He could barely walk already. The sounds of desert wind cut out, and he could barely feel the sensation of sand creeping through his armor any longer. Firefield was right there ¨C his vision still worked, albeit blurrily ¨C but it had looked as if it were right there for days now. ¡°Alaf!¡± A strange sound came from his back. He couldn¡¯t make it out. When Calaf turned he found everything to the north was a blurry amalgamation of dunes. He¡¯d be easy prey against one of the high desert¡¯s many dire-beasts. ¡°Calaf-¡± A slender figure moved amongst the dunes. Only coming into focus as she was danger close. Calaf looked up, dumbfounded. ¡°Charlotte?¡± A woman with an eyepatch and thick, frazzled hair approached. The exact opposite of Charlotte in every way. Black-haired instead of blonde. Curls instead of a fine part. A fallen Sister and relic thief where Charlotte was a deaconess. A murderer, and a church medic. Caring¡­ straightforward¡­ earnestly concerned for his safety¡­ in all these areas, Jelena was a known quantity. Without responding to Calaf¡¯s case of mistaken identity, Jelena brought forth a spare canteen, of which she had several. She offered it to Calaf, only to discover that the Squire could barely lift his arms, let alone interact with the gift via Interface. ¡°Here.¡± She popped the top off and angled it up to his mouth. ¡°Been following you for days.¡± Calaf greedily placed his lips around the canteen and chugged the water. Immediately his condition saw improvement. That dehydration status began to tick down. "Enkidu. He¡¯s over here! Bring the kid!¡± Jelena said. Water spilled out of Calaf¡¯s mouth. He couldn¡¯t get enough. Still, he sat on his knees, drinking from Jelena¡¯s lifegiving canteen, all while the oasis city of Firefield loomed in the background. ¡°Ah¡­¡± Calaf caught his breath as the canteen ran dry. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Jelena said, gazing upon him with a furrowed brow. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You could¡¯ve gotten as many canteens as you needed at the last stop¡­¡± No words came to Calaf. He looked up at Jelena, as the sun formed a bright halo around her face. That¡¯s one way in which Charlotte and this relic thief were perfectly identical. Despite achieving it in opposite fashions, both Charlotte and Jelena did share this status: They were both undeniably beautiful. Before Calaf could open his mouth and say something uncouth and embarrassing, he felt the world spin. That dehydration designation was back down to level 2, but a new status appeared. ¡°What the heck is¡­ water intoxication?¡± Calaf¡¯s head swayed like his neck was a swivel. He collapsed to the desert floor as Jelena called for Enkidu to hurry.
When Calaf next awoke he was in a surprisingly plush bed. ¡°I didn¡¯t die, did I?¡± It felt like death. Like he¡¯d passed beyond the veil of zero hit points and been preserved by a priest or deacon to be resurrected on that blessed day. It was a promise to all faithful. The moment one was Branded, by conversion or birth, it was their fate to be interred in the church crypts for future awakening. Every Branded cadaver left to rot was a failure of the church¡¯s founding compact, even if necessity required heretics and mass casualty events to be resolved by burning instead. At the very least, not a single corpse was to be left to turn fetid. No, the room he found himself in was not some cold underground church crypt. The heat of a Firefield day poked through a narrow window, covered by a slit for privacy. And the ceiling was too ornate. A comfy bookshelf stood against the far wall. The nature of the books appeared a little¡­ church-inappropriate. They weren¡¯t hymnbooks, that¡¯s for sure. The lone door into the room was at once hefty but also locked only by a single deadbolt. ¡°Bouncers need to kick the doors in sometimes. Clients get rowdy.¡± Jelena¡¯s signature desert drawl proved easy enough to recognize. Indeed, there was another figure in the bed with Calaf. It was nothing scandalous, even for the aspiring Paladin¡¯s puritanical morals! For his head lay in her lap, while her hands alternated between stroking his cheek and hair and feeding him some water and hydration-enhancing grapes. ¡°Scared me there, handsome.¡± Jelena smiled. ¡°No problem, Hot Shot.¡± Now this was an act of true charity. Any lingering resentment Calaf had for Jelena¡¯s many crimes ¨C even the murder of his hometown Pryor ¨C wafted away. His cheeks grew warm, looking up at Jelena¡¯s angelic face. Was he thinking straight? Or was his soft spot for the former Sister Turandot a result of some kind of, as the deacons say, ¡®hormonal revelation.¡¯ Two tender, caring eyes looked down at Calaf. Only one could see. The other was dull purplish, unfocused, with a ruined Brand dead center covering the pupil. Calaf touched the hand she kept near his cheek. From this position, he could really see why she wore such a big eyepatch. Scouring the Brand took took a fair chunk of skin off her cheek as well. Still, and overwhelming warmth and genuine concern shined through the thief''s scar-damaged visage. Moreover, she was positively gorgeous beneath that eyepatch, and the scarring only accentuated it all. Calaf tried to ignore that for the moment, lest he say something regrettable in his still-woozy state. ¡°You saved me,¡± he said. ¡°Thank you, truly. But¡­ where are we?¡± ¡°I see he survived,¡± growled a figure from the corner. ¡°I¡¯ll go keep the girl company. Outside. Far outside. Maybe even at the market.¡± ¡°Go do that,¡± Jelena chuckled. During a pregnant pause as Enkidu opened the door to leave, the sounds of¡­ something uncouth¡­ wafted into the chamber. Calaf blushed, just barely registering the distant sounds of sinful iniquity. Only after Enkidu left the room did Jelena continue. ¡°Okay, don¡¯t freak out. But¡­¡± Jelena gritted her teeth. ¡°... We¡¯re kind of in a north-end Firefield brothel.¡±
Chapter Fifty-Six: 1001 Firefield Nights
One hundred questions flitted through Calaf¡¯s head. He rose, feeling dizzy for many long seconds before his sense of balance leveled out. ¡°Finally, you¡¯re awake,¡± Jelena said. ¡°You woke twice before but passed out again when trying to sit up. You good to go?¡± Calaf looked around. The room was plush. The bed was plusher, with an ornate and tall frame and accompanying blinds that were currently wide open but could be closed for some ¡®privacy.¡¯ Yes, privacy. That¡¯s what they¡¯d call it. ¡°I¡¯m suddenly glad those doors block sound,¡± the Squire said. Jelena giggled. ¡°That they do.¡± ¡°You made it out of Fort Duran in one piece?¡± ¡°Better than you.¡± Jelena¡¯s brow furrowed, concerned. ¡°Enkidu and I got that child with the twin eye brands out of harm''s way. She¡¯s over by an oasis, reading something off the Interface windows of some dire-ducks. Weird, right?¡± Calaf held his head in his hands. He struggled in vain to recall the events of the past few days. I traveled south from Fort Duran to the edge of the desert. There was that godawful water merchant racket. I took exactly one canteen, which barely lasted me a day. Then¡­ The dehydration status frazzled his brain and even his memories. Must be part of those INT-reducing debuffs. He did remember Jelena, walking up to him framed in the desert sun, offering him lifesaving water. Calaf did not recall being dragged into this brothel or anything that happened since. ¡°Joan and Cayo. I presume they didn¡¯t make it,¡± Jelena said. Calaf nodded. ¡°They didn¡¯t expect to,¡± the relic thief continued immediately after. ¡°Cayo and I had a chat while you were out at the ramparts. If Zilara¡¯s trick with the ¡®transmissions¡¯ didn¡¯t have an immediate effect, they were going to hold the church off while all those refugees and a large part of their army escaped to bear witness. Obviously, that didn¡¯t quite go as planned, but more than a few civilians made it out.¡± ¡°Nobody cared.¡± Calaf stretched his legs, which were sore from laying about for so long. ¡°The recordings were sent out as System Messages to all faithful. Or at least most of them. Nobody cares. The massacres, it¡¯s all considered just putting fiendish heretics to the sword just like they deserve.¡± But Jelena sighed. ¡°There certainly doesn¡¯t seem to be much of a riot around Firefield. Everyone¡¯s just going on with their lives.¡± It had happened before. The last time Calaf had been in Firefield, Zilara had been enlisted to send off that System Message. What were the contents of that message, again? There was no record left in the Interface. ¡®The bishop¡¯s sermons are but lies¡¯ ¨C Calaf remembered that at least. Calaf hoisted himself off the extra-large bed with little fanfare. Jelena remained on her knees near where the pillows were arranged. ¡°Why a brothel?¡± the Squire asked. ¡°No room at the inn?¡± Jelena laughed at some inside joke, then: ¡°It¡¯s a warm bed and the proprietor won¡¯t ask questions. Okay, full disclosure: I also, uh, know the place.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Calaf turned back to face the bed. He raised an eyebrow. A thunking sound came from the ceiling. It was a multi-story business, self-evidently. Jelena¡¯s cheeks were puffed up and flushed. ¡°W-well.¡± She glanced away. ¡°What does it sound like?¡± ¡°You, uh partake in the establishment¡¯s¡­ services?¡± Calaf asked, incredulous. ¡°Used to.¡± She looked up towards the ceiling. ¡°Heh, some of the rooms have mirrors up there.¡± ¡°¡­ so do they offer male, uh, companions, or?¡± Calaf leaned in. Not that he was curious about Turandot¡¯s preferences or anything. He just hoped he didn¡¯t seriously misinterpret some things during their intertwined journeys of revenge and gradual camaraderie. ¡°They offer both services,¡± she stammered. ¡°Men are in the eastern wing, ladies are here. At any rate, I¡¯m well versed in the layout of both wings, if ya know what I mean.¡± Jelena took a deep breath as if she was preparing to break the seal on some highly personal tragic and worldview-rearranging backstory. Her hands bounced up and down in her lap like dire-corn on a hot skillet. ¡°Ah, I¡¯m not just a customer¡­¡± she looked up at that narrow slit in the window. ¡°I was also an employee.¡± Strange sounds escaped from Calaf¡¯s mouth despite every intention of clamming up entirely. ¡°You worked.¡± Jelena nodded fast. ¡°In a brothel?¡± Jelena nodded faster. ¡°Yeah. Partook in the services offered. Also were part of their services offered. The whole gamut of roles one can have around a brothel. Seldom did both at the same time though.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Calaf added nothing else to the conversation. What was he supposed to say?
¡°So, as you¡¯ve probably surmised by now, a few years back I was a pious new convert. One of the first to take the Brand in Japella. Before the mission set up shop, I had a bit of a¡­ reputation around the village. A fun reputation. Popular with the guys around town. Ah, there were so many young adults until relatively recently¡­ now most that are left live around Firefield.¡± ¡°Anyway, after my conversion and pilgrimage, I became a pious born-again-virgin type. Branded, I was a whole new me. That lasted for some time as I served the new church outpost as a deaconess. Took care of the Japella orphanage. Town didn¡¯t need an orphanage before the pilgrimage route. But I digress, that¡¯s a different story.¡± Jelena sighed. ¡°Hey, there¡¯s a container full of water pitchers over there beside the bookshelf. Work shift makes the girls thirsty, yeah? If you¡¯re still dehydrated¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Calaf said, his back to Jelena. His dehydration status had dissipated entirely by the time he woke up. All negative status effects were removed. ¡°M¡¯kay.¡± Jelena paused for a moment. ¡°Can I have one? Been talking a lot.¡± Calaf complied. He picked up some Spare Sealed Water Flagons of N. Firefield¡¯s Brunette Bunny Ranch (x4) and placed two of them at the edge of the bed in that awkward workaround for trading with those not blessed with the Interface. ¡°Cheers.¡± Jelena took a bottle and downed it. ¡°Despite being called a ¡®Brunette Bunny Ranch¡¯ there are plenty of blondes amidst the ranks. Couple redheads over in the male wing.¡± ¡°Fascinating,¡± Calaf said, voice straining to remain deadpan. ¡°Most of the girls look, well.¡± Jelena motioned to herself. ¡°Like moi. Locals from the desert yeah? Hair that¡¯s dark black counts as brunette by most standards. Hence the name.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Calaf exhaled sharply. ¡°The church allows such a practice to operate?¡± ¡°Oh, there¡¯s a nun-themed brothel closer to the main drag! Worked there for a few weeks before moving here. Eh, better not to talk about The Incident.¡± Jelena chuckled to herself. ¡°While not necessarily condoned, the church does tolerate it, mostly. Doesn¡¯t think highly of the girls and their opinion of the Johns depends on their rank and status. But, hey, we¡¯re in a room right now. So, they¡¯re above-board.¡± ¡°How did you come to work in such a place?¡± Calaf asked. Jelena grew quiet. Both her eyes welled up. ¡°After I got back from pilgrimage, things were quiet for a while. But over the next few pilgrimage seasons, Japella seemed to empty. Younger generations were mostly Branded, and moved over to Firefield to take better advantage of the church¡¯s services and their own Interfaces. Many more increasingly didn¡¯t make it back from pilgrimage. The orphanage ranks swelled precisely because of this. In time they moved the orphanages to the larger towns along the route better suited for handling such things.¡± ¡°What did you do then?¡± The former sister rubbed her bad eye. ¡°Stayed around as deaconess for a bit. Mostly assigned to dust off the church archives. But my reputation re-established itself. My failing, perhaps. Idle hands, giving into temptation, and all. Everyone knew since everyone could see now, with the Menu and all. By the time the mission burnt down in a fire one night while I was out fetching water for my gram-gram, I sort of just¡­ lost the last vestige of meaning the role still had for me. No new assignments were going to come and Japella was too unimportant to invest in a new mission once everyone south of sixty was already converted. So, I just up and left through the desert one day. Went to Firefield without a penny to my name.¡± Calaf leaned against the bedpost, looking intently at Jelena. ¡°After that, you¡­¡± ¡°Joined in at a brothel. Like most other women who wind up in Firefield without a penny to their name. Happens to more former sisters and deaconesses than you¡¯d expect, hence the nun-themed hotel, yeah?¡± ¡°I¡­ never thought of it.¡± ¡°Few do.¡± Jelena smiled sadly. ¡°Never crossed my mind until I wound up in that situation. Still Branded at that point. Didn¡¯t scour my eye until I turned to a life of more martial forms of crime, and I had to stay off the church¡¯s radar.¡± Outside, it was about midday, judging by the glare of the sun beaming directly down through this slit near the ceiling. ¡°So, yeah. That¡¯s the missing part of my mournful, loss-filled backstory. The glue that welds Sister Turandot to the church¡¯s most wanted Jelena you know today. Didn¡¯t stumble on some faith-shattering secret buried in the church crypts that put me at war with the Archpope. Didn¡¯t learn that the Ancient Heroes of Yore were not divine heralds on a holy quest but were merely random slaves-turned-rebels escaped from some Demonic plantation. No big ¡®event¡¯ ¨C just grew disillusioned over time.¡± Disillusionment. That word tossed about in Calaf¡¯s head. ¡°Yep. That¡¯s my story. Left the church, like half the girls here in the building, and sold the only thing I had left to survive. Until I found out that pilfered relics from dusty tombs and barely-guarded reliquaries were worth a lot more than I was¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Calaf said, leaning over the bed. ¡°Huh?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°You¡¯re more valuable than you think you are.¡± He gazed at her sternly. ¡°I ¨C uh ¨C mean not just your body. You. All of you. The whole package.¡± Jelena bit her bottom lip. ¡°You flatterer.¡± Swiftly, the Squire glanced away. ¡°That was not my intent.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve just got a way with words,¡± Jelena concluded. ¡°Must be how you wooed that deaconess from Riverglen, yeah?¡± Charlotte. The name caused Calaf¡¯s heart to go sour. His betrothed. The woman who¡¯d tended to Karol¡¯s wounds at the Battletower. And¡­ Calaf leaned back, away from the bed. He walked over to the bookshelf. ¡°I was trying to follow someone,¡± he said, scanning the shelves. ¡°Karol. A crimson mage. Her brand was scoured, intentionally. Not part of an excommunication though. She was the one who killed Cayo. Was sent there in the appearance of a common refugee to get close to him. They intentionally assassinated him with someone not of the Menu. Just to get Joan to break her guard and composure. Someone put her up to it. Groomed her for the role with no expectation of her survival. I think it was¡­¡± ¡°Did she speak to a ranking member of the church?¡± Calaf said nothing, which told Jelena everything. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Riverglen. I need to get back to Riverglen,¡± he declared. ¡°If I can find Karol along the route, assuming she¡¯s still alive, great. If I can get home before Karol gets there, maybe I can at least ask questions ¨C why, what happened, whatever I need to ask to get answers.¡±
Partially to distract himself, Calaf picked out a few books. They were hefty, steamy romance novels. Perhaps unsurprisingly. Jelena chimed in to mention that the girls would usually read them between clients. Keep ¡®em in the mood. Calaf hazarded a glance at a specific novel. It had an Interface designation like most other items in the world.
Item: Brave Ser Knight in The Lair of the Desert-Dwellers Description: A brave Paladin, Roiland, finds himself beset by a tribe of all-female desert nomads. Will his knightly vows stand firm, or will he be corrupted into the compliant plaything of the tribe¡¯s feisty, pagan, dusky chieftainess? In an added twist, the nomads do not speak the common tongue of the church and so can only communicate using their bodies¡­
Calaf coughed up some of the water he¡¯d been given during his long delirium-induced slumber. How scandalous! Actually, maybe he wanted to keep ahold of this one. For later perusal. Just to see how sinful it truly was. Clearing his throat, Calaf turned to Jelena. ¡°Thanks, Jelena. I can¡¯t help but feel I understand you better now. After everything we¡¯ve been through, both chasing after each other and fighting side by side, I can¡¯t shake the feeling that we could be¡­ friends.¡± ¡°Friends, huh?¡± Jelena smiled. ¡°If circumstances didn¡¯t get in the way.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Not still mad about the slaying of that godly Pryor?¡± Calaf clenched his fists. ¡°You saved my life twice. That¡¯s double what chivalry dictates is proper repayment. It would be uncouth for me to continue to try and apprehend you.¡± And truth is, I don¡¯t even know how godly anything is anymore, went unsaid. ¡°Oh, Calaf.¡± Jelena¡¯d scooted to the edge of the bed. ¡°You¡¯re so honorable. That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s what I like about you. A regular knight in shining armor.¡± Calaf¡¯s head drooped down. ¡°A shine just means the armor hasn¡¯t been tested in battle.¡± ¡°You know what I mean.¡± Jelena scoffed. ¡°I took all those vows, but you live by that code of chivalry. I could never have stayed, ah, faithful to the Sisterly vow of chastity for long. If you know what I mean.¡± By now Calaf had walked to the edge of the bed. As if he were being reeled in by some force. ¡°There you go again. Self-Depreciating.¡± He took her hands in his. Jelena¡¯s cheeks flushed a darker shade. Calaf gazed into her eyes. Both the natural caramel-colored eye and the cloudier eye with the off-purple, scoured brand gazed back at him, wide. ¡°Calaf¡­¡± she said. ¡°That should be my line. Ah say, about that kiss at the fort.¡± ¡°About it.¡± Calaf nodded. He leaned in and, in a gesture not approved by the Menu¡­
Special Technique: Kiss Effect: Smooches target for zero damage. Can bring certain opponents off guard though. More often used on allies.
Jelena Turandot, sly and highly experienced relic thief that she was, stammered and blushed like a freshly-smooched maiden. And on Calaf¡¯s Interface¡­
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer.
Rank: Squire
Level: 41
Status: 126/126 (Kiss Stealer!)
Now all would know he was smooching outside of wedlock! ¡°It was simply payback for the fort,¡± he said. ¡°A kiss repaid with a kiss.¡± The status should wear off before he got to Riverglen. Nosy types could see a history of past status effects, but most clerics felt that was confidential. Still, if it didn¡¯t it could raise some questions he¡¯d rather not have to dodge. Jelena leaned up and kissed him again. ¡°Mmm. Not bad for a first-timer.¡± ¡­ really, the status was at least explainable. Chivalry dictates payment in kind. A fair maiden kisses him, and he repays it in the exact form and function. It was a common tale about questing knights. Calaf kissed again. Well, so much for a one-time thing. ¡°Ah~ c¡¯mere!¡± Jelena pulled him closer to the bed. Their lips met. Soon Jelena was deploying new and exciting special techniques Calaf did not know could be done with one''s tongue. It wasn¡¯t too late. If they pulled back now, that most dreaded of statuses, Oath Breaker, could be avoided. That one showed up next to his name and most certainly would not dissipate before he made it back to Firefield. Yes, if they went any further all would know that Calaf, Squire, and Paladin-aspirant, had forsaken many vows of chivalry and chastity to seek solace with a promiscuous, fallen, oh-so-alluringly-sexy relic thief! ¡°Calaf~¡± Jelena pulled him back, urging him onto the bed. ¡°I¡­¡± Calaf gave one last needy nibble to Jelena¡¯s lip. ¡°Must¡­¡± He pulled back, not without a great deal of sadness. Jelena was left propping herself up on her elbows, gazing up at him. ¡°I need to return to Riverglen.¡± He stepped back. ¡°Before anything else. To get answers. To set things right.¡± ¡°Still duty-bound after all this.¡± Jelena smiled up at him. ¡°That¡¯s the you I like, y¡¯know? Even now, still an exemplar of chivalry. If you gave in to that forbidden fruit, well, you simply wouldn¡¯t be the Calaf that¡¯s been on my mind all these weeks and months.¡± Calaf stared at her, resisting the urge to step back to the bed and leave this life of honor behind irreversibly. ¡°¡­ unless you want to break those vows and forsake your knightly chivalry, in which case I¡¯ve got the room reserved all night!¡± Jelena patted the plush cushions next to her. Calaf shook his head. ¡°After I¡¯m back from Riverglen. We can talk.¡± ¡°And maybe more than talk.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Calaf smirked and rolled his eyes. ¡°But I¡¯m not doing this for chivalry.¡± The church doesn¡¯t even practice chivalry. Not the way he was taught. The revealed hypocrisy was enough to cause his hands to ball into fists. One rule they teach to those in the pews, while their arbiters operate with impunity. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for me,¡± he concluded and opened the door. ¡°By the Scout¡¯s roguish grin, that¡¯s even hotter!¡± Jelena shouted as he left. In the end, Calaf of Riverglen, Wayfarer, was perhaps the first man to ever leave a brothel with only the sinful red mark of ¡®Kiss Stealer¡¯ on his Interface.
Chapter Fifty-Seven: Spiders Web of Doubt and Self-Loathing
Years of knightly discipline, down the drain in an instant. That Kiss Stealer Status was visible to all.
Name: Calaf, Disillusioned Wayfarer
Rank: Squire
Level: 41
Status: 119/126 (Kiss Stealer, Encumbered, Overriding Frustration)
At least it hadn¡¯t gone beyond that. Oath-breaker would have bypassed the status section and gone right to his title. All would know. This was, perhaps, cold comfort to Calaf, who was currently doing battle with a horde of dire-tarantulas.
Name: Dire-Tarantulas (x24)
Rank: Beast, Arachnid.
Level 34-36
Status: 69/69 to 72/72
Weapons: - Venomous Fangs (x2) - Webbing - Hairy Feelers
The swarms were particularly thick this season. And with the pilgrimage route seeing less traffic these days, there was nobody else for them to try and devour. Frustration mounted. Spider webbing overrode his hefty endurance to slow him down with an Encumbered status. And there was something deeper: the kind of frustration that needed an outlet but which the most obvious target for venting this frustration, Jelena, was something the Squire couldn¡¯t dare pursue just yet. Instead, he opted for simply impaling three dire-tarantulas at once as they skittered at him in a great horde. Calaf¡¯s weapon was perfectly suited for the beasts of the desert while his shield, armor, and high Endurance were enough to resist all dire-spider venom. Slowly but surely, Calaf stabbed at the dire-tarantulas until the horde was diminished by half. On some unseen signal, their feelers twitching on the breeze, the remaining dire-tarantulas skittered off over a dune. ¡°That¡¯s right. Run away,¡± Calaf growled. XP, Gold, and assorted crafting items made of spider anatomy flowed into Calaf¡¯s inventory. He¡¯d fought off a horde of that size as part of a caravan mere levels ago and received only a pittance of rewards. Solo leveling had advantages. It wasn¡¯t long before the traveling Squire encountered a ransacked caravan. No bodies or survivors remained, though trails of multiple human-sized bundles were in evidence, dragged off to the south and east. Eighteen canteens of water sat in Calaf¡¯s inventory. The maximum possible before weight limits started getting in the way. He would not be getting dehydrated on this leg of the journey. Still, the crestfallen Squire questioned whether or not he should follow these trails. It would only mean more spiders. More experience, yes, but the cart had been ransacked some time ago. It was up in the air whether or not there would be anyone in the dire-tarantula nest left unliquified. What did he owe these strangers? Ones who were probably forsaken anyway? And if they weren¡¯t, they no doubt harbored conceit and smug indifference for anyone caught in similar tragedies in their own hearts. Calaf let out a low growl under his breath. Just the thought of going out of the way for someone who would never do so were the situations reversed caused Calaf to see red. Nevertheless, he took a proper gander at the despoiled wagons half-buried in the sand. He found some dropped mid-level spears and Buckler Shields of Parrying where the caravan guards had been overwhelmed. Inside the wagons, he found some sun-spoiled foodstuffs, and rucksacks full of supplies that didn¡¯t always fit in a personalized Inventory. Calaf rooted through a sack to see if he could find some clues as to who these travelers were.
Item: Children¡¯s Tutorial Toy Description: A simple, unassuming cloth doodad full of pouches and hidden compartments. It¡¯s actually a tool by which children born Of The Menu can learn to use the System and its Interface from a young age.
Calaf rasped. He pulled out the last Spare Sealed Water Flagon of N. Firefield¡¯s Brunette Bunny Ranch to quench his thirst, then rapidly discarded the remaining flask. Down to 17 water canteens, but it would still be more than enough to make it to the river delta. Even with a detour. Thin trails slunk off around and then over a set of dunes. Calaf followed, his Agility and derived stats helping him navigate at points where the trails were already buried in the sand.
A great cavern waited a mere thirty minutes off the trail. This would explain where the dire-tarantulas kept coming from. Dire-Tarantula Sentries skittered about, observing a trip-wire system of thin silk spread out all over the desert. Dire-spiders were already swarming, responding to Calaf¡¯s approach. He must have tripped a few silken traps without ever noticing them. No matter. Calaf was a Squire. A stone wall that faced enemies head-on. Stealth flew against his very purpose. So, he trudged forward, activating as many silk tripwires as possible. Again, the leggy dire-spiders advanced:
Name: Dire-Tarantulas (x32)
Rank: Beast, Arachnid.
Level 34-38
Status: 69/69 to 76/76
Weapons: - Venomous Fangs (x2) - Webbing - Hairy Feelers
Stronger, now, and more numerous! Calaf held his ground. Shield scraping against the desert sands, spear in hand. His boots sunk into the sand, his heels digging into a hidden rocky outcropping.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. In the official System ranks as meticulously categorized and recorded by the Church, Beasts were among the less-sentient creatures. They were generally incapable of strategy in battle. Instead, the spiders surged forth, rushing between two dunes at a one-hundred-twenty-degree angle in front of Calaf. Perfect shielder positioning. The wall of hairy feelers and poison-dripping fangs cascaded against Calaf¡¯s shield. He stabbed and jabbed, his spear taking great chunks out of the lesser, smaller spiders that rushed ahead to defend their nest. Still, Calaf was not pushed back even an inch. As he continued to stab and pick at the horde before him, Calaf noticed two very obscure and specific buffs in his Interface:
Status: Indomitable Solo Might Effect: Increases defensive and offensive capabilities by 25% when working alone.
Status: Muddled Sense of Self-Respect Effect: Decreases casting time by 25%. Decreases incoming damage by 12%.
Well, he wasn¡¯t about to turn a good buff down. Calaf felled spider after spider, not a single fang passing by his shield. The only problem arose when the dire-tarantula corpses piled so high that the next wave threatened to spill clear over his shield. Only when his defensive position was no longer tenable did Calaf engage in a slow, organized withdrawal. Rather than turn and flee, he slowly stepped back, shield still up, and kept up his defensive posture, stabbing a spider or two as he backed onto higher ground. Again, the dire-spiders broke and fled around the time he¡¯d slain half their number. Calaf pursued as these creepy-crawlies skittered back into the cavern. He stopped at the edge. A great, rancid, wafting breeze came from inside the cavern. The breeze itself was light, as if someone was wafting the pages of a giant book at him. The sands began to vibrate. Calaf took several steps back.
Name: Golden Super Dire-Tarantula
Rank: Legendary Beast, Arachnid, Mobile Gold Mine
Level 52
Status: 280/280 (Hungry)
Weapons: - Venomous Fangs (x2) - Bile Spew - Webbing - Hairy Feelers - Giant Feet - Big Stinger (x1)
One of Firefield¡¯s legendary beasts unfurled its many legs as it pushed itself up and out of the dire-spider nest. This was¡­ going to be more than Calaf could handle. Yet still he stood firm. The mighty beast would only catch him if he ran. Level deltas notwithstanding, ninety percent of combat under the Menu was tactics and strategy-based. Calaf of Riverglen could make plans, this beast could not. The golden beast opened by rearing back and unhinging its mandibles¡­
Special Technique: Bile Spew Effect: Spew out rock-dissolving acid from a mighty maw. Reduces Agility of targets.
Vile bile broke against Calaf¡¯s shield in a mighty stream. He found himself pushed back by the force alone. Jedd¡¯s old Shield of Fireproofing smoldered but did not break; just the latest in a line of grizzly pockmarked battle scars. The creature was maybe half the size of Firefield¡¯s stucco cathedral. Too large to parry and barely viable to block against. The beast swung its mighty front leg at Calaf, knocking his shield aside. Then, with a follow-up jab from a second arm, Calaf was sent reeling across the sands.
Name: Calaf, Wayfarer.
Rank: Squire
Level: 41
Status: 96/126 (Kiss Stealer!, Staggered)
Calaf slid on his knee armor, just barely staying on his feet. He rose again and prepped his shield as the beast lumbered after him. Spear thrusts did only scratch damage against the legendary beast¡¯s limbs. With a shield bash, he managed to bring a combined total of ten HP off the Golden Super Dire-Tarantula. A war of attrition would be to the spider¡¯s advantage. Calaf healed up what he could and applied all available buffs. He peered beneath the creature, looking for an opening. A knot the size of a pearl sat between the sternum and abdomen. Like a keystone of an archway. Seemed as good a weak point as any. Calaf rushed forward, running underneath the next scalding acidic bile spew, and had his spear primed and ready to strike. Two quick thrusts produced an immediate effect as the dire-tarantula reared up, spun, and repositioned well away from Calaf.
Name: Golden Super Dire-Tarantula
Rank: Legendary Beast, Arachnid, Mobile Gold Mine
Level 52
Status: 227/280 (Hungry)
A whopping fifty damage! Another couple hits like that and the battle would be an even fight. Calaf stepped back out of bile-spewing range to force the gargantuan beast to close in. While he¡¯d prefer to have lighter armor to start running circles around this thing, the tradeoff to defense would be worth it if those limbs landed a lucky hit again. Another baited flailing of legs, another rush in underneath dripping fangs. One more strike to that now-bleeding weak point:
Name: Golden Super Dire-Tarantula
Status: 170/280 (Hungry)
Well, one more hit and the beast would be down to comparable HP to Calaf¡¯s own. The legendary dire-spider sensed that its meal had gotten wise to its tricks. It let out a great gurgling howl and stomped its abdomen against the ground. Another horde of twenty-plus dire-spiders came out of the cave, filling the ground beneath their den-master¡¯s feet. Calaf¡¯s opening was suddenly much narrower and the consequences for misreading the battle increasingly deadly! The Golden Super Dire-Tarantula let out another cry, and its minions advanced. Just as this new spider army approached, a greenish blur came sailing over the nearest dune. A great crash sent the spiders flying. A blade sliced legs apart this way and that. And in the center of a freshly minted crater was a bearded man with long slick-backed hair. ¡°You¡¯re open. Go.¡± Cried the figure, who possessed no Interface designation whatsoever. Calaf surged forward, spear up, shield deflecting bile every which way. He gave the dire-beast¡¯s weak point one more stab. With a roar, the beast took damage, reared up, and then fell over right in front of Calaf.
Name: Golden Super Dire-Tarantula
Status: 119/280 (Staggered)
It was on the ground, fangs flailing about, eyes darting every which way. Sand and dust were kicked up every which way, but he just needed to run up and get in one or two more blows. Three dire-tarantulas leapt out of the dust, ready to spew their mobility-encumbering webs. They found themselves cut in half with a single swing from Calaf¡¯s surprise ally. ¡°It¡¯s staggered. Finish it off.¡± Calaf stashed his shield behind his back, two-handed his spear, and charged. He thrust the pointy end right down the creature¡¯s gullet, eliciting a pained screech.
Name: Golden Super Dire-Tarantula
Status: 34/280 (Staggered, Reeling)
So close. Only, the creature rose back to its feet, spear still lodged between two fangs. ¡°It¡¯s about to break. Get up there.¡± Came a shrill voice from Calaf¡¯s back. ¡°It¡¯s too high.¡± Calaf swapped out to his sidearm, the trusty knife. Going to need something with a little more range¡­. ¡°Jump.¡± ¡°Eh?¡± ¡°Just jump. I shall give you the boost you need.¡± Calaf took off running and, armor encumbrance be damned, he performed a long jump. Rather than hit the ground again, he found his feet landing on the blunt side of a cracked, reddish blade. With a one-handed swing, the long-haired feral man sent Calaf flying into the air, well clear of the spider¡¯s fangs. Knife in hand, Calaf brought it down atop the Golden Super Dire-Tarantula¡¯s head. Critical hit!
Name: Golden Super Dire-Tarantula
Status: 0/280 (Dead)
Barely. He had just barely slain the beast! Calaf rode the spider down in another great dust-billowing crash. Rewards flowed through Calaf¡¯s Interface, and his alone:
Items:
- Poisonfang Rapier - Golden Spider¡¯s Immaculate Pelt
- Gold x23497 - 6538 xp
Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 42
Strength: 44
Endurance: 64 (+2)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 25 (+4)
Arcane: 10 (+1)
Luck: 34 (+1)
Quad-stat increase and two of those were 2+ into core Paladin traits. Not bad for the level forty doldrums. ¡°Ah. That was timely.¡± Calaf said, savoring the second wind that came with a level-up. ¡°Did she send you to babysit?¡±
Dust settled. The long-haired wild man stood, blade tucked behind his sword arm in a resting stance. His eyes glowed an inhuman color like dried blood that pierced the gloom. ¡°In fact, she sent me to deliver a message.¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell me before I left?¡± Calaf milled about in his Inventory as he talked. The Poisonfang rapier had ridiculous stat requirements, more fitting a Scout than a Paladin. And the spider¡¯s massive hide was meant for some kind of crafting. ¡°She said if you two stayed in that room much longer your chastity was in danger,¡± Enkidu said, rather displeased to be having this conversation. ¡°Are we that obvious?¡± Calaf¡¯s cheeks burned. ¡°Transparently.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ having a crisis of faith here. She¡¯s striking, yes, thank you. Even the most noble of Paladins would admit that. But I have prior commitments, for however long that¡¯s going to last. She and I¡­ are of different worlds. Oh, just, here, take these¡­¡± Calaf left the legendary monster¡¯s loot on the ground for the Menuless Enkidu to scoop up. ¡°Consider them payment. You and Jelena can use it to fund¡­ whatever it is you do these days. I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Her message is that we are going to be traveling to Japella to root through what remains of its church archives. From there we will travel along the route to Deepwood and consult the archives there, if possible.¡± ¡°What a coincidence, I planned to head to Port Town and, hopefully, if some new damnable barricade doesn¡¯t crop up in my path, to Deepwood.¡± ¡°Then you will meet her again,¡± said Enkidu, neither smiling nor frowning. ¡°C¡¯mon.¡± Calaf took off towards the dire-spider burrow. ¡°There¡¯s one more thing I have to do.¡±
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Adventures in Babysitting
A great, yawning dire-tarantula pit sat in a divot between several dunes deep in the Firefield deserts. Calaf approached the maw, having recovered his spear. He advanced with his shield up, wary of any remaining dire-spiders lurking in hidden crevasses. The first man-sized bundle was encountered well within sight of the entrance. Calaf turned to his trusty knife and tentatively opened up the sealed knot of dire-spider webbing. Out plopped a frightened, paralyzed water merchant. Three more man-sized webbing cocoons awaited further in, with two much smaller bundles just past a twist in the cavern¡¯s layout. Thick webbing along the walls, ceiling, and floor denoted the den. When it was over, Calaf had rescued two men, a woman, and two young children from otherwise-certain digestion in these vile cocoons. They were all hovering in single-digits HP-wise, and all afflicted with a kind of poisoned ¡®paralysis¡¯ stat. Calaf consulted his list of available Paladin-path spells. Heal could lift them up from the verge of death. But for their affliction, his Purification spell ought to suffice¡­
Calaf, Disillusioned Wayfarer Casts:
Spell: Purification
Effect: Dispels Poison and Other Damage Over Time Debuffs
Description: Used to heal persistent poison and venomous status effects. One of a slate of spells assigned to early Branded by their devilish wardens. ¡°I use this to heal the occasional dire-wasp stings while collecting honey. Please, just hold still, brave Paladin¡­¡±
One by one, the captured caravan travelers were healed from their paralysis. And with an Intermediate Heal or two, they were back in ship-shape. ¡°Do you see that man up there?¡± Calaf pointed to Enkidu, scowling and looking bored, but still standing lookout. ¡°Follow him back to Firefield. He¡¯s strong; you will be safe so long as he is within earshot.¡± ¡°Great.¡± Enkidu¡¯s grumbling wafted by on the breeze. ¡°More babysitting duty.¡± Further in, the cocoons got¡­ squishier. These were older prey, victims decayed well past the ability to save. Not even a corpse was left to consecrate. There were odds and ends strewn about the floor. A few valuables worth looting; certainly didn¡¯t count as stealing given that their owners were long dead. Calaf again cast a spell.
Calaf, Disillusioned Wayfarer Casts:
Spell: Flaming Sword of Faith
Effect: Sets Your Weapon Ablaze with Cleansing Flame. Works on Any Melee Implement (And Arrows) Not Just Swords. (Req: 25 Intelligence, 25 Charisma, 10 Arcane)
Description: Deals Fire Damage Equal to 25% of User¡¯s Intelligence on Swords, Axes, and Spears. 10% fire damage on arrows. ¡°Keep it back with fire. Flame-swords and napalm-belchers. Fire can keep the rot at bay.¡±
With his spear aflame, Calaf burnt these gore cocoons one after another. He found a clutch of dire-tarantula eggs in the back and burnt those too. Never again would this nest consume another hapless caravan. Neither would its previous victims be left their to rot and decay.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Calaf walked up the steep opening of the former nest as smoke rose out of the pit like a chimney. Enkidu was there, waiting, a gaggle of surviving caravaneers milling about, dazed and sheepish at his back. ¡°Thank you so much for saving us!¡± one of the kids told Calaf. ¡°It was nothing,¡± he managed. Chivalry dictated, yes. But moreover, Calaf did it for himself. Was it still charity if he was doing it for his own peace of mind? Nevertheless, Calaf knelt down near one of the younger kids he saved. He traded that Children¡¯s Tutorial Toy for naught but gratitude. The child seemed to recognize it, and thanked him kindly. ¡°Thank you,¡± the Squire told Enkidu. ¡°For helping out. For agreeing to take these civilians back to Firefield. And¡­ for letting me slay that legendary beast mostly solo.¡± That got Enkidu to smirk, only slightly. ¡°You noticed.¡± ¡°That you avoided attacking the golden dire-tarantula? Yes.¡± ¡°The experience and gold was going to you anyway. You kill one Golden Super Dire-Tarantula you kill them all.¡± Calaf raised an eyebrow. Just how many of those beasts had Enkidu slain in his time? ¡°Give Jelena my regards,¡± Calaf said with a sly smirk. ¡°Anything else you wish to relay?¡± Enkidu asked. ¡°Nothing I¡¯d dare relay through you.¡± Calaf barely stifled a chuckle. ¡°For that I am thankful. Rendezvous in Port Town if you wish to relay things to her. Or with her.¡± Calaf rolled his eyes. ¡°She still hasn¡¯t told me about your embarrassing backstory,¡± Calaf added. ¡°Good.¡± Enkidu growled. ¡°You may wish to burn the dire-tarantula bodies.¡± Wild man Enkidu ran off at a moderate clip, leaving the rescued caravanners to take off after him. Enkidu showed no signs of stopping. The spider corpses were piled high, not even counting the legendary beast laying around perfectly still outside the den. Calaf burnt them all as much as possible with his flaming spear. Calaf took off in the opposite direction, following his footprints back to the pilgrimage trail. Port Town awaited, and he would rather be at the next oasis before nightfall.
¡°Heh. So you two got a little hot ¡®n heavy~¡± Zilara said with a sly grin. ¡°We did not,¡± Jelena said, back in her eyepatch. The former nun and the holy heiress waited about near one of the outer oases of Northern Firefield. Jelena Turnadot was back in her outfit, eyepatch and all. Zilara only gazed on and smiled wider. ¡°Okay, we kissed a little.¡± Jelena felt a dark blush creeping up on her cheeks. ¡°He took the hit and got the Kiss-Stealer status on his Interface. So, he initiated, right? Guess you could say we¡¯re getting a little serious.¡± Jelena paced about while Zilara watched. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s good. After chasing me around half the continent, it¡¯s good that he finally just goes for it.¡± Jelena paced back towards the oasis. ¡°But if he went all the way, that would go against all that steely Paladin sense of duty. And if he did that, well, he wouldn¡¯t be him. Do you see my problem here? Getting him into bed means changing him from what I like so much. But if we just orbit each other, flirting and maybe kissing on the side, that¡¯s nowhere near enough¡­ dam¡¯s gotta break sometime.¡± ¡°I¡¯m twelve. Why are you going to me for relationship advice?¡± Zilara asked with a cool, nasally tone. ¡°But given the nature of the establishment there, I¡¯m surprised you two didn¡¯t just, like, spend the night.¡± ¡°What¡­ you were expecting us to get busy in there?¡± Jelena gave the holy child some side-eye. ¡°How do you even know what goes on in there? Was kind of hoping you just thought it was another hotel, kid.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a brothel,¡± Zilara said simply. ¡°I mean, the sign above the front door has flavor text in the System. It doesn¡¯t take a genius.¡± ¡°Point taken.¡± Jelena put a hand on her hip. ¡°You are way more precocious than the Japella orphans, kiddo.¡± Rather than responding, Zilara flipped her drill-tails over her shoulder, then summoned forth a book from out of her Interface. To those without the Menu¡¯s blessing, this appeared as if the book plopped into her hands from thin air. Those with a Brand would see an additional Interface window crop up near Zilara¡¯s head and an associated bluish glowing light from¡­ wherever Inventories came from. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to get you a glamour ring,¡± Jelena said after a while. ¡°Hide those eyes of yours. Japella will be okay, but any of the major cities, well, guards¡¯ll be all over us more than usual. Say, what¡¯re you reading?¡± Zilara angled her book at Jelena, but not enough to where the older woman could make out any details. ¡°Where¡¯d you get it?¡± ¡°Back in the, uh, inn.¡± Zilara chuckled. Jelena¡¯s expression rippled into a frown. ¡°Not sure if those are child-appropriate¡­¡± ¡°Heh. Y¡¯know I can see some background Interface info that others can¡¯t. Like a chain of ownership. That room in there used to belong to you, didn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°It was my favorite room when working shifts yes,¡± Jelena admitted. ¡°Which¡­ which book is that?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Zilara checked the back, then read aloud. ¡°Yama, proud desert warrioress, kills any man who dares try to court her¡­¡± ¡°Oh no,¡± Jelena groaned. ¡°¡­ that is, until brave missionary-knight Adama trades blows with her in an honorable duel.¡± ¡°Not that one.¡± Jelena tried grabbing the book out of the brat¡¯s hands. ¡°Give it back. And please stop reading it aloud! Any book but that!¡± Zilara artfully dodged. ¡°¡­will our proud warrioress maintain her wild and savage ways, or will she be tamed, civilized, and learn to love the rigid bodices and formal court banquets of her dutiful rival¡¯s homeland¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t share that book with anyone!¡± Jelena snapped. ¡°I¡­ I haven¡¯t read that one in years. Ah, it was my favorite. But it is way above a kid¡¯s reading level. Prose is so purple at least you won¡¯t understand what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°Sounds pretty saucy.¡± Zilara shut the book. ¡°How¡¯s it end?¡± Jelena gazed out into the oasis. ¡°By book three she¡¯s on kid number four.¡± Jelena sighed. ¡°Two of those are twins. There¡¯s a time skip involved. But she never does see the desert sands again.¡± Zilara whistled. ¡°Well. I¡¯m sure that¡¯s scandalously popular around these parts.¡± ¡°Read the series cover to cover at least four times. Mostly between shifts.¡± Jelena reached over and snatched the book right out of Zilara¡¯s hands. ¡°¡­ which is why I know it¡¯s not at all age-appropriate for you, kid. Hell, Come back when you¡¯re, I dunno, sixteen, eighteen?¡± Zilara was left pouting. ¡°I¡¯ll find you a church schoolbook or something later,¡± Jelena said, arms crossed. Then: ¡°Enkidu should be back soon. We¡¯ll head to Japella overnight.¡± The holy child sat on a rock, her arms and legs both crossed, frowning and avoiding eye contact. Jelena sighed. ¡°I used to be in charge of an orphanage. I happen to be an expert on how to look after kids. Just work with me here.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just keeping the book for yourself.¡± Zilara spat into the oasis. ¡°Pervert.¡± ¡°Well, nevertheless.¡± Jelena composed herself. ¡°Say, wanna hear Enkidu¡¯s embarrassing backstory while he¡¯s not here to stop me?¡± Zilara turned to look at Jelena. ¡°Oh? How embarrassing are we talking about?¡± ¡°It¡¯s scandalous and embarrassing all at once. He hates it when I share it with people.¡± ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± ¡°I dunno. It¡¯s going to have to be a short-short version that''s a bit more appropriate for children¡­¡± "Awwwww," said the holy child. "This sucks. If it doesn¡¯t have all the juicy details I don¡¯t wanna hear it.¡± "Maybe when you''re older, kid." Jelena chuckled to herself. That was one story that was most certainly not appropriate for kids.
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Stranger in a Strange Land
Name: Jelena Turandot, Working Girl, Oath Breaker
Rank: Cleric
Level 42
Status: 89/89 (Off the Clock)
How did it come to this? Former church sister Jelena Turandot walked about through the desert outskirts of Firefield. She let out a fatigued sigh. Okay, she knew how it had come to this, but still, she was immediately disappointed and disillusioned that it did. Several months had passed since the orphanage was shut down, its many orphans shuttled out to the grand cathedrals at Firefield or Port Town. The Japella mission burnt down not long after, leaving Jelena with no further role in the church. She could have stayed around Japella, unemployed like all the other fogies that were the only ones left around the old village. All the young ones, the converts, spent the last few years brain-draining over to Firefield. That¡¯s where all the Interface-compatible Branded lived. Where most pilgrimage-related jobs were located. Working Girl. This status was self-explanatory. Jobs in the cathedral were limited and largely already staffed by loyal nuns and deaconesses. That left only a handful of wage earning roles for a burnt-out former sister with a lax understanding of chastity vows. And fewer careers still paid the bills in the off-season. Work was¡­ work. In truth, she much preferred these proclivities when it wasn¡¯t a career. It paid well. By the Menu, did it pay! Jelena was one of the more popular girls at the ranch. A relatively recent hire, she¡¯d already taken to mentoring the constant stream of newer employees. Her, shall we say, ¡®orientation¡¯ program received no complaints so far. Oath Breaker. This status was older and even more shameful ¨C designating one who engages in certain activities outside of the church¡¯s strictly sanctioned matrimonial requirements. Sure, most of the girls back at the ol¡¯ ranch had the status. But Jelena had earned this peculiar mark on her Interface long before she¡¯d ever entered her first brothel. Every Branded in Japella had seen at a glance what their mission¡¯s church Sister had been up to after hours. ¡°Old Turan¡¯s daughter, back to her old habits. Conversion and all that newfound piety hadn¡¯t kept her from fooling around for long.¡± Both statuses were not permanent per se. Working Girl would change the moment she quit her job, same as ¡®Pilgrim¡¯, ¡®Herald¡¯, or ¡®Wayfarer¡¯ that were commonly seen along the path. Oath Breaker could only dissipate with a considerable amount of time from her initial dishonoring of her vows. Even then, it would exist in her personal history within the Menu, for any curious eyes to see. Just the thought of her indiscretions and urges being known to everyone who interacted with her caused Jelena to grimace with shame. And yet, she kept working, kept doing it¡­ Which brought her to her current walk. She¡¯d started taking strolls through the northern desert rather than spending her hard-earned gold back at work. One time she had spent most of the weekend over in the eastern wing, then woke up in one of her coworker¡¯s beds back in the western wing and walked right back over to her assigned room to start her next shift. That was when she knew she needed a change in routine. So, she walked. Got some fresh air and thought about life. This was not what a life of godly piety was supposed to lead to, as promised to her by those kindly deacons when she¡¯d converted. Now her eye was permanently Branded with this mark of a faith she¡¯d cooled on, and all the other faithful knew at a glance what she did to make ends meet. Couldn¡¯t even walk around Firefield without getting propositioned for some off-the-clock transactions. Out here in the desert at least it was quiet ¨C lonely, but quiet. The odd dire-tarantula or dire-gecko was easily dispatched by her repertoire of spells and the skills she¡¯d learned on the pilgrimage route. Occasional battles got her a fair bit of experience and extra gold. But to make a living off that she¡¯d need to be a full-time adventurer traveling the pilgrimage route in perpetuity. Firefield¡¯s desert was barren, but not without sources of sustenance available to the well-trained eye. This was Jelena¡¯s homeland. She¡¯d been siphoning water out of moisture fans long before she¡¯d ever met her first Branded missionary. Working within the Interface made the process slightly different but not necessarily harder. Jelena could spend days out here in the sands without ever needing to meet another person. On this day, though, Jelena discovered something most curious. A horde of dire-tarantulas lay in three mighty piles of thirty each. Their menu designations were all present, all set to exactly zero HP. Something had killed these things meticulously, with precision. And in the dead center of the three mounds was a twisting wisp in a reddish hue.
Anomaly: Pandemonium Wisp Description: (Error! Descriptor Null!)
Huh. The church mission never told Jelena what to do with some kind of Anomaly object. Ever curious, she selected and ¡®Used¡¯ it.
Items:
Dire-Spider Hides (x45) Dire-Spider Fangs x12
Gold x 15000 Experience: 13500
That was¡­ all the rewards from these many kills, all flowing into Jelena¡¯s coffers instead. Only, these things had been dead for some time, with no help from Miss Turandot. Level up!
Jelena Leveled Up! Level 43
Strength: 23 (+1)
Endurance: 28
Agility: 32 (+1)
Intelligence: 68 (+2)
Charisma: 30
Arcane: 18
Luck: 38
Modest gains for a level up at this stage. But she¡¯d been early into level 42 that morning, and now she was halfway to level 44. Two more piles lay off on the horizon. Spurred by curiosity (and a desire for more free experience and gold), Jelena followed this trail.
Two piles of forty dire-geckos each sat beyond the next set of dunes. Again, a so-called ¡°Pandemonium Wisp¡± waited. And when examined¡­
Items:
Dire-Gecko Hides (x37) Dire-Gecko Tails (x15)
Gold x 10000 Experience: 9300
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Well¡­¡± Jelena whistled. ¡°I¡¯m getting quite the haul today.¡± Someone ¨C or something ¨C was offing half the Firefield ecosystem. Slaying dire-beasts with expert precision. Only, the experience and gold garnered from such a massacre could not flow into its intended recipient. The rewards were just hanging out in the ether, waiting for anyone to claim them. Jelena followed the trail of corpses to another Pandemonium Wisp. Here she found four Golden Super Dire-Tarantulas arranged in the compass directions, legs shriveled up and dangling upwards above their massive carapaces. In addition to another Pandemonium Wisp, Jelena also found a great spherical cocoon, nine feet in circumference. This cocoon had collapsed in on itself not too long ago, a process that continued as Jelena approached. Within was a creature that did not possess a Menu designation or, seemingly, any ability to interact via Interface at all. It was humanoid, far taller than the already slender Jelena, though its face was mostly obscured by a tornado of hair. Stabbed into the ground like a sword from ancient legends was a reddish blade. The creature pulled it from the red stone bedrock that existed beneath the Firefield sands one-handed. ¡°Sufficient,¡± it growled. ¡°Further calibration inefficient.¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t been Branded,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Are you from around here? I was under the impression the church had converted every settlement between here and the Fellmarshes.¡± Only this figure didn¡¯t look like any desert denizen Jelena had ever heard of. Beneath that sea of hair, the figure looked more like the fairer-hued folk from down south. Like the generic depiction of a Riverglen lad, if you were to combine all their portraits into a basic average. And he was most certainly male, for he¡¯d emerged from the cocoon entirely naked. This figure looked over to Jelena, only some piercing reddish eyes breaking through all the hair. ¡°Unarmed. Not worthy prey.¡± Jelena took a step back. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Incoming.¡± The sands behind Jelena stirred. Out of a hidden burrow appeared another Golden Dire-Spider, maybe half the size of the other house-sized legendary beasts. The figure in the cocoon struck out faster than Jelena could process. One moment he tensed up, the next that red-stone sword had sliced clear through Jelena and that spider that leaped up behind her.
Name: Jelena Turandot, Working Girl. Oath Breaker
Rank: Cleric
Level 42
Status: 6/89 (Off the Clock, Pre-shock)
The former sister fell to her knees. That sword had cleaved right through her torso in one mighty gash! She wasn¡¯t dead yet, and no second blow was coming to finish her off. She could get all her hit points back in an instant if only¡­ Jelena reached out and selected that Pandemonium Wisp:
Items:
- Poisonfang Rapier (x5) - Golden Spider¡¯s Immaculate Pelt (x5)
- Gold x100000 - 22690 xp
More gold than she earned in a year at the bordello. Hell, enough gold to fund the brothel for two whole weeks! And more than enough XP to¡­ Level up! Level up!
Jelena Leveled Up! Level 45
Strength: 23
Endurance: 30 (+2)
Agility: 34 (+2)
Intelligence: 72 (+4)
Charisma: 32 (+2)
Arcane: 18
Luck: 39 (+2)
That was an exceptionally fortuitous level-up. Three in one day was virtually unheard of at this stage on the path. Certainly not for one more versed in bedroom manners than battle. Newly healed and with some extra hit points to match, Jelena turned to look for her attacker. He was running over a dune, slaying hidden Trapdoor Dire-Spiders whenever he encountered them, and generally hooting like a madman. Jelena looked at where his sword had cut her down. There was no wound. This mysterious stranger appeared to have hit her on accident, not seeing or not caring that she¡¯d been in the way of his prey. Dangerous, but not malicious. At any rate, this wild man was running back towards town. If he was still stab-happy when he reached the outer oases, why, that could cause trouble for the city guards. Whatever this mysterious figure was, he was generating strange anomalies without precedent in church teachings as he slew Legendary Monsters with abandon. That had the whiff of apostasy upon it. And that could bring down the church arbiters upon the entire city! Rather than risk that, Jelena took off running to try and talk some sort of sense into the strange man.
¡°Hey. You there,¡± Jelena cried. ¡°Combat efficiency at peak performance,¡± the naked man muttered to himself. ¡°Require additional skillsets.¡± Though the man¡¯s mouth moved, Jelena couldn¡¯t read lips through that massive beard. The rest of his body was relatively hairless, aside from the crotch of course. Like some kind of ancient, whitewashed statue from the pre-hero age. (But these details were hardly appropriate to share in polite company, so Jelena often left this out in her many retellings¡­) ¡°Skillsets, mister?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°Physical combat is calibrated. Need other forms of conflict. Verbal altercations. Bartering. Socializing. Political maneuvering.¡± ¡°Other forms of combat, huh?¡± Jelena scratched her cheek beneath her Branded eye. ¡°I might have an idea regarding another type of fighting you can do.¡± ¡°Other forms of interpersonal jousting would be ideal. One to one.¡± Jelena snorted. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯ll be a lot of that.¡± This wild man tucked his sword behind his arm. Some kind of idle stance. Without an Inventory, he couldn¡¯t exactly stash the blade. ¡°Brothel has a strict no-weapons policy. We¡¯ll find someplace to store the sword.¡± Jelena wrinkled her nose. ¡°And by the Holy Cleric, you need a bath. C¡¯mon, big guy.¡±
Jelena Turandot threw open the saloon-style doors to a certain familiar brothel. ¡°Hey, boss,¡± she told the Madam. ¡°Got a client in need of a very particular, comprehensive service. Bath, companionship, pillow talk, whole nine yards.¡± In walked the wild man, as naked as the day he was born (if he was ever truly born, and not just appeared out of the ether one day.) The Madam whistled as he came in. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ going to require a dedicated wing. Why, we may even need to shut the place down.¡± The Madam looked him up and down. ¡°Though I¡¯m sure my workers¡¯ll leave satisfied.¡± Jelena turned and shrugged towards the east wing, then the west. ¡°Men or women, big guy? What¡¯s your pleasure?¡± ¡°This wing possesses fewer structural weaknesses.¡± The man walked towards the western side of the building. ¡°It will be more defensible should the need arise.¡± The madam and Jelena watched their new client leave to go peruse his many, many options. ¡°No Menu?¡± asked the Madam. ¡°Something tells me this fellow doesn¡¯t have the gold to pay.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, boss!¡± Jelena threw her hands up. ¡°Open a trade window. I¡¯ll comp him.¡±
A week passed. The first day was all bathing and grooming, of course. Nobody was going to spend time with a filthy client. But then the real fun started. Jelena¡¯d gathered enough coins from those Pandemonium Wisps to fund the brothel. Which was good because nobody else was using the western wing for anything anytime soon. It was an all-hands-on-deck affair! Jelena, as technically the one paying this wild man¡¯s bills, stayed away and decided not to help out quite yet. Instead, she scoured the desert looking for more clues as to just what the hell happened out there that summoned this immaculately chiseled man-beast into being. The cocoon began to disintegrate shortly after hatching, but what remained indicated something both organic and ancient. No samples could be taken, as attempting to Interface with it caused the material to disintegrate and scatter on the desert winds. Beneath the sands lay some clues. Structures lay carved into the red stone bedrock, though without a full excavation team, their secrets would remain elusive. Jelena was quickly distracted from further exploration by the sheer noise emanating from back at the Firefield outskirts. A full week, and they were still going at it! Even the most determined John tapped out around day three. The sounds wafted out of the brothel and carried far in the desert, day and night. Now it wasn¡¯t all moans and pleasurable screams wafting over the dunes. Occasionally there was a harp, and briefly even a full band. The girls were civilizing their client with cultured discourse, pillow talk, and etiquette lessons, just as much as they were having fun with him in the usual manner. ¡°Hmmph. Maybe I should head over to the other side of the building and see Justinian.¡± Jelena¡¯s thoughts turned to one of her favorite coworkers over in the east wing. ¡°Better than just roaming around the desert while the other girls get to have fun with a client on my dime.¡± Another week passed before the cacophonous sounds wound down. Only then did Jelena dare enter her usual working grounds. Several rooms lay ransacked, every surface having been used in ways that made Jelena not want to touch much of anything. She checked each chamber, finding them all in need of room service, until she reached the largest, VIP suite on the second floor. All the girls lay gathered around on pillows or draped over beds and plush benches. Enkidu was there, having his daily stubble shaved by two coworkers Jelena was intimately familiar with, Shamantha and Barbaretta. ¡°Our client has been properly civilized,¡± Shamantha reported. ¡°He should be able to control those wild outbursts of his now. Certainly, grew a little more purposeful in his lovemaking around the day three mark.¡± ¡°Indeed. We¡¯ve even bestowed him with a name,¡± said Barb. ¡°Enkidu,¡± said the man. ¡°This moniker is acceptable.¡± The entire wing full of working girls all sat about dazed, apart from Sham and Barb. They all sighed and swooned in ways that voiced their satisfaction with a bed-rumblingly excellent performance from their client. Jelena gazed upon the scene. She hoped the bordello had enough herbs on hand to keep everyone away from the dreaded Pregnancy status effect. And her formerly feral wild man was still entirely naked. ¡°Well, now that you¡¯ve broken in our VIP client...¡± Jelena sashayed into the room, undoing her belt buckle. Enkidu gazed upon her with a more discerning eye than his previous crazed swordsman shtick. His gaze was measured ¨C and still hungry. ¡°Seems the other girls have given you their stamp of approval. Consider this one a complementary going-away gift. On the house.¡±
Jelena looked over the oasis as the sun began to set. She chuckled under her breath. ¡°You totally did your partner, didn¡¯t you, Hoss?¡± Zilara said after a time, unprompted. ¡°What? Me?¡± Jelena looked down at Zilara. ¡°Did I say anything out loud? I was just reminiscing.¡± ¡°Enkidu. That crazy man. You did him. Probably sorted him out in that brothel back there too.¡± ¡°How the heck do you know that?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°Cold reading, context clues.¡± The holy child shrugged. ¡°Does your boyfriend know?¡± Jelena¡¯s voice dropped. ¡°Calaf is not ¨C and if you must know I disclosed my sordid backstory to him back in the room. Didn¡¯t mention Enkidu directly but he was entirely accepting of my past. Like the noble gentleman that he is, thank you very much!¡± Zilara snickered. ¡°He¡¯ll probably get jealous if he knows your partner in crime is an old fling.¡± ¡°It was a one-time thing! Years ago!¡± Jelena said, flustered and a bit too loud. ¡°Look, how do you even know¡­ about this stuff? I swear I didn¡¯t know what a brothel was when I was your age.¡± ¡°You told her about my embarrassing backstory, didn¡¯t you?¡± Enkidu appeared like a wraith behind Jelena. ¡°Actually, I just hashed it out myself,¡± Zilara said. Enkidu snorted out through his nose. ¡°We should make for Japella.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Jelena adjusted her traveler¡¯s garb. ¡°Library won¡¯t un-burn itself. Either what we¡¯re looking for is there or it¡¯s not. C¡¯mon, we¡¯ll be wasting moonlight if we stay here too long.¡± ¡°Can I get some grub before we march through the desert?¡± asked the holy child. ¡°Very well.¡± Jelena sighed. ¡°Know a place that sells good dire-duck sandwiches just down the main drag. Should be open day and night.¡± The trio left the oasis ¨C and Jelena¡¯s former place of employment, behind as they traveled south once more.
Chapter Sixty: Fox Hunting, Trap Laying
Calaf thrust his spear through the eighth dire-gecko of the day. Bluish blood splashed against his shield, and the creature was slain. ¡°Thank you so much!¡± cried members of the church youth auxiliary pilgrimage caravan. Lightly guarded, these young ones set out down the path in the off-season armed primarily with their faith. Brave, faithful, and foolish. ¡°Truly, your arrival is a blessed miracle! Praise be the Menu!¡± proclaimed more of the kids. ¡°Wait for a proper caravan at the next watering hole,¡± Calaf suggested. ¡°Trust me. There are worse things further up the path.¡± A good deed done (and a paltry amount of experience and gold gained from the rescue), Calaf continued south. Not but an hour later, he discovered another caravan under threat from a medium-sized golden dire-tarantula. He offered his stone-walled defense to them, and this more well-equipped party was able to fell the beast. Rewards were split between the large group, but Calaf felt accomplished all the same. He wanted to help people. If not for some divinely ordained code of chivalry, then at least for his piece of mind. Old habits die hard, he supposed. Opportunities to help were a gold piece a dozen down in the southern deserts. Monsters were swarming all over the place. And with pilgrimage season well in the past, there were fewer high or mid-level adventurers milling about to rescue beleaguered initiates. Calaf helped who he could, benefiting his self-esteem immensely at the cost of slowing his pace down the path considerably. Days passed before he saw even a whiff of the lively greenery of the river delta. The level difference between the brave Squire and these monsters was so high that self-respect was his primary reward.
It was in this headspace, saving lives and clearing out dire-cassowaries for local farmers for the sake of a job well done, that Calaf encountered some old, familiar faces. A standard party of four awaited at a crossroads deep in the swampy river delta. Their team vanguard held the broken remains of a bear trap in his hands. ¡°It got away!¡± thrashed the team leader ¨C a Paladin in armor typical of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt.
Name: Jorge
Rank: Paladin
Level 68
Status: 2348/2348 (Zealous)
Weapons: Great Gilded Holy Club and Ornate Shield of the Church (x1)
Beside him, stood the team vanguard. No doubt in town to try and rank up.
Name: Gerard
Rank: Vanguard
Level: 69
Status: 566/566 (nonplussed)
Weapons: Golden Gilded Twinknives (x1).
¡°I can¡¯t believe you let it get away!¡± yelled Jorge. ¡°It¡¯s a Legendary Beast,¡± said Gerard. ¡°We all saw it. Didn¡¯t we, Isaac? No trap would contain that thing.¡± A third member, the team mage, peered into the overgrowth as if looking for some path.
Name: Isaac
Rank: Crimson Mage
Level: 65
Status: 795/795 (Impatient)
Weapons: Great Spell-Catalyst Zweihander (x1)
¡°Look, the sooner we find this thing, the sooner we can get to the Battletower for my rank up,¡± the mage said dismissively. A fourth member of the party stood away from the rest, gazing at the dirt along the road.
Name: Sarah
Rank: Cleric
Level: 67
Status: 620/620 (Dead-eyed)
Weapons: Holy Stave of the Church¡¯s Most Faithful (x1)
Sarah continued to look down as Calaf approached. She glanced up just enough to make eye contact but did not seem to register or recognize the Squire. ¡°Hello,¡± Calaf said as he approached the group. Gerard¡¯s face registered a flicker of recognition right away. Isaac nodded but otherwise returned to his work poking through the bushes. Jorge looked up at Calaf and scowled. ¡°You¡­¡± Jorge began. ¡°You were at Fort Duran. Among the rebels¡± ¡°That was a mission from the church, clearly,¡± Gerard said. ¡°He was at the victory ceremony.¡± ¡°Yes, yes.¡± Jorge shook his head as if chasing away a thought. ¡°Keep expecting to find deserters or rogue militia still operating on the road.¡± ¡°They say the regular army is still mopping up people coming out of the hinterlands,¡± Isaac added offhandedly. ¡°Well, we could go join them if we could just catch this damnable fox, we could be down there helping.¡± Jorge paced around and stomped the ground. ¡°What are you trying to catch?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Big fox monster with a lot of tails,¡± Gerard said simply. ¡°Likes to disguise itself as a more mundane dire-vulpine.¡± Jorge gritted his teeth. ¡°Scouts are trailblazers. Mages are monster-slayers. What are we missing here!?¡± Oh. That creature. Calaf¡¯s guiding forest spirit. ¡°You¡¯ll never catch it,¡± Calaf warned. ¡°If you did, you¡¯d never defeat it afterward.¡± ¡°And how the hell do you know that?¡± Jorge scowled. ¡°It¡¯s level ninety-six.¡± Gerard and Isaac started coughing profusely. Even Sarah took notice. ¡°The demon king was just barely level ninety-eight,¡± Isaac managed.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Yes, well, it¡¯s a very old and very powerful legendary beast. Unlike any seen before. What are you even trying to trap it for?¡± ¡°To rank him up.¡± Jorge motioned brusquely at Gerard. ¡°Rumor has it that if you catch this dire-fox thing you get a Cat¡¯s Paw of the Thief.¡± ¡°Scout,¡± Isaac corrected. ¡°Cat¡¯s Paw of the Scout, that thing, right! And that allows you to rank Vanguards up to Scout without trudging through Ye Olde Docks. Which we can¡¯t manage to find for some reason.¡± Calaf controlled his breathing for a bit. Maintained his calm. ¡°If it will help you on the path, I can show you where the docks are located.¡± Calaf paused. ¡°If they¡¯re still there.¡± Jorge scowled, but a quick, whispered conversation with Sarah turned things around. ¡°Okay. Better than our current scouting options,¡± Jorge said much to the consternation of Gerard and Isaac. ¡°Lead the way.¡±
One last time, Calaf joined this party and provided his guidance. Before he was the over leveled mentor, but now they were all well ahead of him on their journeys. Sarah said nothing as the group trudged through the swamp. It was as if she wasn¡¯t even there. Isaac and Gerard proved more talkative, but there was an air of tension between them and the party¡¯s de facto head. Calaf had his crude map out, having led the group back towards Port Town and then out through the very gate he¡¯d exited so long ago now. The remains of the old camps were still there, often with tent stakes still embedded in the ground. He was able to retrace his steps well enough. The burnt-over underbrush of the swamp was already beginning to reestablish itself along the path. But that gap between mighty trees remained, offering access to the centuries-abandoned wharves now buried well inland along a dried-up delta river finger. Ye Olde Docks. This patron dungeon of Scouts and Thieves changed little since Calaf¡¯s last, brief interlude here. However, there was one addition: a new party of level seventy-somethings lay sprawled out in the riverbeds. Hit points hovering thereabouts -20. ¡°They must not even have made it up to the piers.¡± Calaf grimaced at the scene. ¡°You should burn these bodies. I can do it if you can¡¯t for whatever reason.¡± ¡°Are we going to try this?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°At this level?¡± ¡°We cleared Fort Duran a full week before the heretics moved in, and the Bastille Sepulchre twenty levels under par. We can do it.¡± Jorge ended every sentence with an authoritarian click of his tongue. ¡°Two more. Just need to clear two more dungeons. The easiest ones. And then it¡¯s over.¡± ¡°Jorge, are you okay?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± ¡°About what happened at the Fort¡­¡± ¡°What about it? We put down a bunch of heretics. Killed ¡®em all.¡± Jorge grinned madly. Sarah sobbed, which went unnoticed by the Paladin. ¡°You were responsible for cutting off the escape of anyone fleeing the refugee camp,¡± Calaf said. ¡°We were, same with the rest of the swords for hire while the church militant took the Fort itself. What of it? Cut ¡®em down left and right. With a bunch of level fifteens and the like it wasn¡¯t so hard. We did our duty. Got accolades signed by General Perarde himself!¡± Jorge¡¯s eyes were wide. ¡°Now if we can just drag the rest of the party up to max rank, they said they¡¯d let us join the regulars. Can¡¯t have been for nothing. Can¡¯t have been for¡­ can¡¯t have been.¡± Jorge kept repeating this mantra even as he urged his party forward. Sarah was the last to follow, having to will herself forward with each step. ¡°Sarah,¡± Calaf called out. She turned to look at him with her sad, defeated eyes. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a woman. One with shaved reddish hair. Hailed from the plateau around the Olde Capital. You probably saw her back at¡­ back at the Fort.¡± Sarah shirked away at the very mention. ¡°It¡¯s vitally important that I find her. Did you happen to know where she went?¡± he asked hopefully. But Sarah only shook her head and ventured into Ye Olde Docks. ¡°Oh, Sarah, one more thing¡­¡±
Calaf Casts:
Spell: Tautological Defense
Effect: Provides a Party-Wide Buff Equal to 25% of Caster¡¯s Defense.
Description: Developed during the early Church era out of deference to the martyred Paladin of Yore. ¡°Mia, behind me!¡±
A defensive blessing surrounded Sarah and her party. ¡°May that aid you on the road ahead,¡± he said softly. ¡°T-thank you,¡± Sarah said, barely audible over the noise of the swamp and Jorge¡¯s domineering commands from up on the boardwalks. It was the first time Calaf had heard her talk since that victory ceremony in Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. Another good deed done for its own sake, Calaf traveled the short distance back towards Port Town.
Jelena, Enkidu, and their new charge arrived in Japella just before sunrise. They moved quickly and furtively, avoiding all possible combat with dire-beasts. ¡°Home again, home again,¡± Jelena Turandot whistled as they ran through the mostly abandoned northern outskirts of her tribal desert village. ¡°Nice place you¡¯ve got,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Real homey, Hoss.¡± ¡°You should¡¯ve seen it in its prime,¡± Jelena said with a smirk. They returned to a familiar scene near the village center. The burnt-over ruins of the church mission. ¡°Hmmm. Residual remains of charcoal in the air,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Can see it in the deeper Menus.¡± ¡°Freak lightning storm hit the thatched roof,¡± Jelena explained. ¡°All the other buildings are made of stone. Mission burnt, nothing else did.¡± Enkidu grumbled about, milling around the confessionary hall. ¡°Most cathedrals have the same general layout,¡± he said. ¡°Seen one you¡¯ve seen ¡®em all,¡± Zilara added. ¡°Library should be in the back, ¡®round near the Pryor¡¯s quarters.¡± ¡°Right you are,¡± Jelena said. The trio walked over behind the confessionary hall and through some cinder-charred pews to the pryor¡¯s living quarters. The position had never been filled, and the chamber was mostly occupied by interim deacons for the duration of the church¡¯s presence in Japella. There, through a hole in the wall, sat the Japella Mission church archives. A modest library lined with church records and holy texts. It was a small collection compared to any dozen cathedrals or churches encountered along the pilgrimage route. The ceiling had all burnt away with most of the books, leaving the room exposed to the cloudless night of the desert sky. ¡°We¡¯d started collecting everyone¡¯s birth records here,¡± Jelena explained. ¡°Collected all the verified family trees we could in a series of long scrolls.¡± Jelena started rooting around under a burnt-over desk while Zilara watched, and Enkidu paced the room. ¡°My job for the first year was to transcribe these scrolls often in triplicate and then ship them off to the cathedrals at Firefield, Deepwood, and the Demon Lord¡¯s Fall.¡± Jelena fiddled around with some kind of box. ¡°The master copies were left in a Steel Safe of Fireproofing down here. I handed those off to gram-gram before leaving town. Probably still in the ol¡¯ house. But in their place, I stuffed all the books that didn¡¯t burn.¡± ¡°So, we¡¯re not breaking and entering, just taking back some books on loan,¡± Zilara said. There was a click as the safe was unlocked. Jelena swung a door open on thick, rusty hinges. ¡°Here we go.¡± Jelena pulled open a few books. ¡°Let¡¯s see. Hymnbook, Testament of the Ancient Heroes of Yore, another Hymnbook, town tax records...¡± Jelena frowned. ¡°Hmm. This is the smaller of two safes. Could have sworn I put it here. Enkidu, move that bookshelf, will you?¡± Enkidu picked up a burnt-over bookshelf and moved it one-handed. Beyond was a false wall less charred by the conflagration that had consumed the rest of the mission. Evidence of exceptionally sturdy construction. ¡°Ooooh.¡± Zilara chuckled under her breath. ¡°So that¡¯s what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°Just let me find the correct combination of boards to press here.¡± Jelena poked about on the wall, ear to the wooden siding. ¡°There we go.¡± A false compartment was detached, to be likewise carted off by Enkidu. Within was a Large Steel Safe of Fireproofing. The complex locking mechanism was intact, but the door swung open. ¡°Huh.¡± Jelena peered into the waiting safe. ¡°It¡¯s all been¡­¡± A few books still littered the floor of the safe. Spare papers. ¡°Sounds like somebody beat us to it,¡± Zilara said with an airy tone. Jelena nodded. She leaned in to pick a few books off the ground. ¡°Hmm. Here¡¯s what I was looking for.¡± She presented a book, A History of Church-Approve Daemonology: A Grimoire.¡± Zilara held her hand up and selected ¡®Use¡¯. ¡°There we go,¡± the holy child said, soaking up the combined knowledge. ¡°But I don¡¯t think this book will have what you seek.¡± Frowning, Jelena flipped through the book the old-fashioned, Brandless, way. She frowned harder. ¡°Well. It¡¯s¡­ missing.¡± A great chunk of the middle section of the tome was torn and missing. Entire entries on types of demons just ripped right out. ¡°Who else knew of this trove?¡± Enkidu asked. ¡°The church, one assumes.¡± Jelena tossed the book back into the safe. ¡°Probably just going about collecting old records. Took most everything else by the look of it.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure.¡± Zilara¡¯s eye-Brands began to glow. She scanned the room. ¡°Tell Auntie Turandot and big brother Enkidu what you¡¯ve found, now,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Never say that again,¡± said both Zilara and Enkidu. Jelena crossed her arms in mock indignation while the holy child did another scan. ¡°Detecting traces of bard magic around here.¡± Zilara put her finger out to catch some mote or particle that her unbranded caretakers could not see. ¡°A song that triples movement speed.¡± ¡°Someone wanted to get here before us, specifically,¡± Jelena concluded. ¡°That stench.¡± Enkidu sniffed the air. ¡°The hunters have been here. At least the bard. Knight and the one with the long sword too.¡± Jelena turned to Enkidu. ¡°Perarde was here?¡± ¡°Days ago. Yes.¡± ¡°Guess they were desperate for whatever was left in the archives.¡± Jelena rubbed her hands together. ¡°Well, the plan always was to head over to Deepwood and consult the official archives after this. C¡¯mon, use the old deaconess quarters to crash sometimes. We¡¯ll leave at dawn.¡±
The crew slept light. By the time the sun rose over the desert, they were ready to depart. Almost wish I could visit gram-gram, Jelena thought as they got packed and prepared to leave town. Alas, probably best to leave a light footprint if the hunters are on our trail. The trio walked casually down south out of Japella, aiming for a quick route down to Port Town. Enkidu held a hand up and stopped them as they neared the old ¡®Welcome to Japella¡¯ sign. ¡°Someone comes.¡± An impossibly lanky figure emerged from behind the nearest building. He wielded a curved blade longer than he was tall. ¡°That explains the stench,¡± Enkidu said, deadpan. ¡°Have you heard the tale of the most wanted criminals, who returned to the scene of the crime to revisit a great arson?¡± Came a voice from far above. A second church hunter stood on two translucent, shimmering blocks in midair. He was crouched over, observing like a dire-owl. ¡°It¡¯s said they led the brave hunters of the church right to their ancestral stomping grounds, and the whole town was put to the sword for apostasy.¡± Sand whipped along the trail in front of them as an uneasy stalemate ensured. ¡°Threatening gram-gram, are you?¡± Jelena muttered through gritted teeth. They would have to cross Japella off the list of safehouses indefinitely. ¡°What were you doing looting the mission archives?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°Two church hunters for a simple gofer mission?¡± ¡°Four,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Hmm? Oh, right! Four hunters. We know that Bard helped you march here lightning fast. Is Perarde here?¡± Baldr frowned from his high perch. ¡°If Perarde were here your entire hometown would be a smoldering ruin already.¡± ¡°The Hammer of Faith is off securing more valuable reliquaries,¡± Walter said from over near the building. ¡°As is our bard.¡± ¡°Leaving us stranded here with no movement buffs.¡± Baldr sighed. ¡°It was pure happenstance that we caught you. Just waited about to see what fell into a trap, like those dire-tarantulas out in the desert.¡± ¡°Hey, kid.¡± Jelena subtly pulled Zilara closer. ¡°There are smoke bombs on the belt at my waist. See ¡®em?¡± ¡°Uh, yeah!¡± Zilara said. High above, Baldr¡¯s frown worsened. ¡°The holy child. I was wondering who dissipated my barrier back at the fort. Well, we¡¯re just cleaning up all manner of loose ends today. Surrender the child and perhaps you may be granted the honor of Branding before your execution.¡± Jelena glanced down at Zilara. ¡°I can get two shots off before this guy¡¯s right on top of us. Go wild with the smoke once that second shot goes off. We¡¯ll escape to the south. Over between the two women and Walter, Enkidu prowled, sword drawn and ready. ¡°It¡¯s going to take more than the two lesser church hunters to bring in the great Jelena Turandot,¡± said the thief. ¡°What do you mean ¡®lesser¡¯!?¡± Baldr spat. ¡°Do your worst, Baldr. Or, wait, what was it, Baldr¡¯natch?¡± A most inhuman growling noise came from Baldr¡¯s perch. He didn¡¯t like people sharing that name. His fingers twitched, ready to start spamming magical barricades. Jelena drew first. She pulled out a long, slender pistol and fired off a shot. The bullet shattered one of the barriers Baldr was balanced on, sending him tumbling to the desert floor. The pistol itself was smoldering; it would be some time before it was ready to fire again. No sooner had the bullet squarely ripped out of the muzzle with a flash was Walter in the air, sword swinging for Jelena¡¯s neck in a wide arc. Enkidu blocked the path with his body and parried the long blade with his own, ancient short sword. A swift kick sent Walter reeling back to the nearby building, and Enkidu was off in pursuit. Swords clashed, Walter¡¯s blade taking massive chunks out of the adobe dwelling as the duelists moved at inhuman speeds. Jelena pocketed her spent weapon for later reloading once they were in the clear. She pulled out a second (and final) firearm and leveled it at the falling Baldr. For his part, Baldr arrested his fall with a complex couch of summoned barriers. Then he surged forward, propelled by a barrier summoned at his back. His left arm was held high, ready to gouge at Jelena¡¯s remaining eye just as soon as he got within reach. With the gun leveled at Baldr¡¯s center of mass, Jelena fired. Right on cue, Zilara started yanking smoke bombs off the older woman¡¯s belt and chucking them everywhere. ¡°Head south, into the desert! Enkidu, cover our backs! Go, go!¡± Anything to lead the church hunters away from the quiet, dilapidated, unassuming village of Japella.
Chapter Sixty-One: The Town That Dreaded Midnight
The first thing Calaf did upon this third visit to the delightfully dingy Port Town was find an inn that looked like it didn¡¯t ask many questions and book it for three days. For two days, he slept. Exhaustion reigned, and he¡¯d scarcely had time to breathe since he¡¯d last wandered through the damp streets of this seedy sailor¡¯s port. On occasion, he crawled out of the inn¡¯s rather mediocre and unsupportive bed to go dig up some food in the downstairs tavern, but he seldom stayed for long. Dreams were vivid and nightmarish hallucinations of being chased through the Port Town cisterns by some creeping fetid growth. Calaf looked down to find that he was not in his heavy Squire armor, but instead wearing a sailor¡¯s outfit, the garb of a fair-leveled Cleric, or even a finely tailored church dress. At any rate, the rot always caught up. Calaf ¨C or whatever poor soul he was playing in this dream-tide puppeteer show ¨C died, but the dream would always continue, his body moving though no life remained. Continued, that is, until Calaf was jolted awake by a piercing scream right around midnight. He shot up in a cold sweat nightly. But when he looked about, he discovered an inn devoid of anyone out and about, and streets outside so eerily quiet it was as if the port had been abandoned without him noticing. Eventually, Calaf settled for lying about in bed and staring at the wooden logs that made up the ceiling. While he wasn¡¯t sleeping, he wasn¡¯t getting more exhausted. Sometimes that was all you could hope for when your mind was not at rest. With nothing but time to think, the Squire¡¯s mind turned to that status effect. Kiss-Stealer. Nobody had remarked upon it among the caravans he saved or even the familiar faces he¡¯d encountered along the road. Maybe it wasn¡¯t all that big of a deal.
On the third day, having slept only out of exhaustion, Calaf ventured out of the inn to explore. Port Town was perhaps the one station on the pilgrimage route that was reliably busy year-round. Trading and exploration ships were constantly coming and going about the port, while the city was the church¡¯s major lifeline to other converted regions overseas. The odd convert sailor would inevitably spread the Interface across the sea via childbirth and family formation. More than a few far-flung islands were Of The Menu, even if the church couldn¡¯t always influence these far-off parishes to enforce orthodoxy. Despite this hustle and bustle, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but notice a steady stream of outbound traffic hell-bent on leaving before sundown. One major problem with doubling back along the pilgrimage route: the stores of Port Town lacked gear that fit his level range. Everything was a downgrade compared to his desert-cast weapon and his redoubt-forged armor. There were perhaps some lowly clerical spells he could begin investing in, but these were of little utility to one on the path of the Paladin. With little in the way of equipment to acquire, Calaf stocked up on food and water rations for the road ahead. He looked around for any word from the north, any rumors about what happened at the Battletower after he was sent off with Perarde, any word on Riverglen. Rumors were in short supply. The most he heard was that any late unpleasantness regarding rebels or apostasy was done and dealt with and that the road was clear from ¡®glen to ¡®marsh. With no leads to pursue and with Calaf still dreading another long trip between stations, Calaf resolved to visit the local cathedral before retiring for one last night. Calaf arrived at the cathedral just as the bi-weekly evening mass was starting. The sun was beginning to dip below the sea, and the slow, winding beacon from the old lighthouse was just beginning its nightly circuits. The Squire shivered, remembering that house of horrors. Mass had already begun, with the kindly interim Pryor Deacon beginning the reciting of the Olde Heroes¡¯ Liturgy. Rather than try and squeeze into the back of the sermon, Calaf made for the reliquary vault and the statuary hall. The spot where one ranked up was of personal significance after all. In this, he was rebuked, as two high-level knightly guards stood watch, the gate shut closed. ¡°None may pass,¡± said the rightmost knight in a whisper. ¡°Why not?¡± Calaf asked. Quiet was necessary, so as not to disturb the mass. ¡°There¡¯s a breach. Four disappearances in the past fortnight. See the deacon if you wish to know more,¡± said the leftmost knight. Calaf took a seat and attended the same sermons he¡¯d been listening to since birth back in Riverglen. By the time he sat down, communion was already underway. "Together, these great heroes did push back the forces of devilry and heretical doubters both. We are blessed with their Holy Interface forever more." Pryor Deacon held his hands out in a wide embrace. "Now, my flock, do open your Menus and move over to communion." The faithful, which were relatively sparse for this mass, opened their Menus in a flurry of bluish Interfaces hovering over the pews. They selected their Inventories, then Food, and then selected or filtered for ¡®Official Communion Wafers (x1)¡¯. Via their Menus, they selected ¡®Eat.¡¯ Such was how the faithful interacted with the world. As a late arrival, Calaf had not been traded any communion wafers. Instead, he merely repeated the liturgies under his breath. ¡°As the Besainted Priestess and Martyred Paladin decreed, eat this in remembrance of humanity¡¯s great victory over the Demon King,¡± orated Deacon. ¡°So that none may forget how the Ancient Heroes of Yore rescued us all. To quote our Holy Cleric, oh Priestess: ¡®When every man and woman is kept in their place, fettered by these shackles of gold, only then shall all be right with the world¡­¡± This sermon. It would¡¯ve been the one Pryor Yordan was repeating that fateful day ¡ª the day of the murder. Calaf¡¯s attention waned. The ceremony went on without him. Chivalry dictated that he cease the hunt for Jelena after she saved his life the first time. By the second, he was actively in her debt. But the church¡¯s definition of chivalry felt increasingly weighted towards entrenching its own power and smiting heretics these days. Surely the church arbiters would not accept such an excuse. Deep down, Calaf wondered if it was all post-hoc justification. Church chivalry merely set up a code of honor that benefited people like Perarde, who already reigned at the top. Meanwhile, Calaf¡¯s personal sense of honor was also a selfish mask that benefited primarily him. He simply didn¡¯t want to fight Jelena and certainly didn¡¯t want to bring her to justice. What he wanted¡­ For the first time, Calaf¡¯s thoughts gave a proper definition to his angst. Was he no longer pursuing Pryor Yordan¡¯s murderer because of honorable payback-in-kind for their numerous lifesaving good deeds¡­ Up at the front of the cathedral, Deacon raised his hands to the stained glass. ¡°Hallowed Be the Menu. Amen!¡± ¡­ or was it because Calaf desired the murderer, slayer of his foster father, carnally? ¡°Amen,¡± he echoed, harboring even more doubts than when the sermon had started.
After it was finished, Calaf approached the godly pryor in the cathedral¡¯s wings. ¡°Hello once again, brave sir knight,¡± said Pryor Deacon. ¡°I trust the sermon was to your liking?¡± Deacon was a fair enough orator, but the lessons within just rung hollow in the young Squire¡¯s soul, now. ¡°I suppose, Father Deacon,¡± Calaf managed. ¡°Please, please, just Deacon if it pleases you. We were traveling companions, and therefore comrades of equal status,¡± Deacon said. ¡°If I understand correctly, you were among those who answered the crusader¡¯s call¡­¡± Silent, Calaf gave the faintest of nods. ¡°How fared the campaign? Is the sanctity of the church safe from those who would usurp its rule?¡± Calaf looked upon the Deacon with a guarded gaze. While pryors and deacons held important confessionary roles, the spiritual rot that troubled Calaf was not something he ought to bring up to even a kind and friendly soul such as this.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°Hmm. What¡¯s this? I see you¡¯ve gained a certain reputational status.¡± Pryor Deacon¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Kissing unprompted, are we, brave knight?¡± Calaf lost his breath. Figured this would come up eventually. Still, he counted to three, refocused, and responded: ¡°If you must know my betrothed took the initiative,¡± Calaf said all matter of factly. ¡°Ah, the kindly Deaconess from the Riverlands? Well, that¡¯s quite unlike a ranking woman of the church. But given the mortal peril you involved yourself in, a bit of closeness outside of the Menu¡¯s bounds is perfectly understandable¡­ within reason, of course.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°And I merely paid back a kiss in kind.¡± Blending two separate truths was not quite a lie. If it was, Deacon did not pry further. ¡°Come, give testament to your adventure on the crusader¡¯s call,¡± Deacon implored him. ¡°The scribes will need firsthand recollections for the church¡¯s official records¡­¡±
Deacon brought Calaf aside to provide some firsthand testimony of the events at the Battletower, and those much later at Fort Duran. ¡°Hmmm. Entire dungeons cleared out and used as a stronghold of apostasy¡­¡± Deacon rubbed his chin. ¡°Yes, these are strange times indeed.¡± There was little Calaf could do in the retellings to exonerate Paladin Joan and her longtime love, the ex-Bishop Cayo. Instead, he cast all possible scorn onto Honest John, a humble merchant and aspiring cult leader who¡¯d caused such trouble and used untrained and na?ve pilgrims as fodder. Better to castigate someone still, presumably, alive. Someone Calaf legitimately despised. Mayhaps church scholars some years from now, in more reasonable times, could relitigate Joan and Cayo¡¯s cause based on what information Calaf provided here. But it was not going to happen now. The doomed reformists were not going to be declared victorious here during this mere testament in the Port Town cathedral. ¡°Hmmm. Yes, these battles were¡­ pitched,¡± Deacon said. ¡°Are you okay, brave knight? I know many crusaders who return home, shall we say, changed. Even the most noble of causes is no balm from night terrors. Why, some even have adverse reactions just being in the proximity of certain spells being cast.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± The pair was quiet for some time. Until the church doors were pushed open in a huff. Some foreign-accented shouting was heard, and cathedral guards moved in to quell the din. Deacon excused himself. ¡°Now, now. Let him in. He has as much a right to redress as the others.¡± A sailor barged in, two Branded children of no more than five years of age at his feet and another, near-newborn, in his arms. All were named ¡®Dirk, Yol, and Mel, son/daughter of Mal¡¯ in the Interface. ¡°Will no one come and help me search for my wife?¡± said the sailor. The sailor was unbranded, so there was no direct way of noticing his name or status at a glance. He introduced himself as Mal, a sailor on extended shore leave, leave that was about to end in two days. ¡°Someone needs to do something,¡± said the sailor. ¡°My wife is missing. Went looking for her coworker, who also went missing ¡®bout a week back. And more than a few of my crew and the crew of some of the other boats have up and vanished too.¡± Deacon frowned but did not respond. ¡°We all hear the screams at night. Something¡¯s out in the streets, now!¡± yelled Mal. ¡°I¡¯m shipping out in two days. I¡¯d like to leave my young¡¯uns with my wife before I head out. I¡¯ll have no choice but to take ¡®em with otherwise, but the youngest is hardly seaworthy.¡± ¡°Our cathedral has orphanages, as do all along the path and even in missions abroad. Your children would be safe here,¡± Deacon said. ¡°Deacon, what¡¯s the matter?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Oh? You haven¡¯t heard? There¡¯s been a rash of missing persons cases of late. At least one ¨C a friend of this poor sailor¡¯s wife - went missing right in this very cathedral. As if they were spirited away.¡± ¡°It¡¯s happening in the street now,¡± said the sailor, combative. ¡°Something¡¯s happening. Me and some of the boys are forming a posse to find out what.¡± ¡°¡­ did any of these missing people happen to stop by the lighthouse?¡± Calaf asked, to piercing glares from Deacon.
Deacon took Calaf aside again. All the while, that sailor paced around near the cathedral entrance with his children. The youngest seemed to sense the father¡¯s apprehension and began to stir and whine. ¡°What do you know of the lighthouse?¡± Deacon raised a suspicious eyebrow. Calaf exhaled. ¡°There¡­ was a church hunter there. The first time I was in town. Baldr. He roped me into finding some thieves guild hideouts. Only, his methods of interrogation killed without any consideration for commending his targets to the crypts or otherwise disposing of them safely. When I returned last time I was here, there was¡­ something new in there.¡± ¡°Hmmm. Yes. The guild of thieves,¡± Deacon said slowly. ¡°I¡¯d heard tell it was deeply embedded in this city ¨C but disposed of root and branch just before I assumed my role.¡± There was an uncomfortable pause, as some echoing sound of falling stones into deep water came from back in the reliquary hall. Deacon leaned in closer. ¡°We¡¯ve sent ranking church personnel to investigate, but none have returned,¡± he whispered to Calaf. ¡°Some guards in the reliquary hall went missing three nights back. I dare not put anyone below level sixty guarding the gate now.¡± ¡°Do you know what that¡­ thing in the lighthouse was?¡± Calaf asked. Deacon shook his head. ¡°I fear not. Only that it wasn¡¯t alone. I do not know what lurks in the cisterns and aqueducts of Port Town. Only that it¡¯s in no way contained there.¡± ¡°We¡¯re sure it¡¯s the cisterns?¡± ¡°Residents have been complaining about foul taste to the water for weeks.¡± In the steamy off-season, the cisterns should be low on water. Lots of nooks and crannies to hide in. The whole network of drainage, storage, and water transport would be exposed. ¡°Okay.¡± Calaf walked to the sailor. ¡°You said you were forming a posse to go looking for your wife?¡± ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°How long has she been missing?¡± ¡°Thereabouts three days. Went looking for her coworker, who has been missing for longer.¡± Calaf bowed his head. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry. If you don¡¯t think your kids will last locked in your apartment or house for the night, the Pryor should have resources for them. But¡­ if you want a place to look, there¡¯s an old thieves'' guild hidden hideout built into a cistern just a bit north of here. Perhaps you should search there. Take a Branded with you if you can, especially one who has access to flame spells.¡± Whether the sailor took this advice to heart, Calaf had no idea. Mal took his children back home at least. ¡°You said there were disappearances in the reliquary hall?¡± Calaf asked Deacon.
By the interim pryor¡¯s command, the high-level guards stood aside and let both Deacon and Calaf pass. ¡°A member of the flock in excellent standing went here to pray some days ago,¡± Deacon explained. ¡°She disappeared without ever leaving the grounds of the reliquary hall. She was waiting for the longest time for a recently converted lover but neither ever left this cathedral. By the time I noticed it was past midnight. Nevertheless, we searched the grounds and found¡­¡± A foul air wafted from behind the statue of the Holy Cleric. Reddish vines grew out from a fissure in the cathedral¡¯s mighty stone walls, wrapping over everything like fell crimson kudzu but notably avoiding the statue¡¯s base. ¡°It¡¯s been growing worse. Something¡­ took a guard from out of here in the bright light of day. Had to cancel the previous sermon because of it. Only the bravest visit the cathedral for my ceremonies now.¡± Calaf stepped on the thickest red vine. It bristled, tensing up like a tripwire, coiling its way into the fissure and through the town cistern network. All the other vines retracted slightly, forming a tighter net such that there was nowhere to step that would not disturb the growth further. Something knew he was waiting. Something was now watching them in turn. ¡°I called for church hunters to investigate,¡± Deacon added. ¡°But with the late unpleasantness, they¡¯re all a bit booked. We¡¯ve sent guards into the cisterns at various points, but it¡¯s been days¡­¡± ¡°How many guards?¡± ¡°Four parties, all at various points in the aqueduct network. Anymore and we wouldn¡¯t have anyone manning the walls. Nightly street patrols are already lax, and now the disappearances are happening out on the street.¡± Deacon¡¯s head dropped. ¡°The guard captain personally led the last expedition through this very tunnel. Recruited some adventurers for hire and even unbranded looking for a chance at redemption to boost their numbers. That was last week.¡± Based on the standard party size and accounting for the additional reinforcements at least two dozen church guards were missing somewhere in the reservoirs and aqueducts of Port Town. That didn¡¯t count the missing persons they¡¯d been sent to rescue. That¡¯s potentially forty or more bodies, all fused and repurposed like that entity under the lighthouse. ¡°These unbranded¡­¡± Calaf paused to gather his thoughts. ¡°Was there a woman with shaved-short red hair among them? Maybe came from the north?¡± Deacon nodded. ¡°I believe there was. She had the airs of a shell-shocked crusade veteran about her. Poor dear denied my counsel and volunteered straight away. We were about to send another group for search and rescue. A larger group may have better odds¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Calaf declared. ¡°Alone.¡± Better not to risk anyone else¡¯s life. He alone had the slightest clue of what he could be up against in there. He alone had a rough knowledge of the cistern layouts thanks to his dealings with the thieves'' guild. Anything to get his mind off his troubles. Anything to try and find some clue as to Karol¡¯s whereabouts. ¡°Allow me to apply some blessings,¡± Deacon said. He clasped his hands in prayer and threw up defensive buffs, a one-time use barrier shield, a slight holy damage enhancement of his spear, and a silencing spell that hushed Calaf¡¯s boots as they splashed through the cistern water. ¡°Thank you, Pryor.¡± Calaf followed up with a spell of his own:
Calaf, Troubled but Resolute Wayfarer Casts:
Spell: Flaming Sword of Faith
Effect: Sets Your Weapon Ablaze with Cleansing Flame. Works on Any Melee Implement (And Arrows) Not Just Swords. (Req: 25 Intelligence, 25 Charisma, 10 Arcane)
Description: Deals Fire Damage Equal to 25% of User¡¯s Intelligence on Swords, Axes, and Spears. 10% fire damage on arrows. ¡°Keep it back with fire. Flame-swords and napalm-belchers. Fire can keep the rot at bay.¡±
With his spear ablaze serving as a makeshift torch, Calaf took the first quiet step into the cistern. The vines reacted less to each movement, perhaps lulled by Deacon¡¯s stealth spell. ¡°Oh, by the way,¡± Deacon¡¯s echoed whisper came from his back. ¡°Not sure if this information helps, but of those who have gone missing in the streets at night, they¡¯re almost all unbranded¡­¡± Calaf¡¯s shield was large enough to just barely fit through the cistern¡¯s narrow passageways. It would be invaluable should he be attacked from the front, but cause problems should anything come at him from behind. Cautiously, Calaf took another step forward into darkness¡­
Chapter Sixty-Two: What Lies Beneath
¡°Okay. The entrance should be somewhere around here.¡± ¡°It¡¯s that off-colored stone three over from your left hand.¡± Zilara pointed upward, well out of reach for the young girl. Jelena tilted her head at an awkward angle to see past her eyepatch. Sure enough, there was a tiny, five-sided brick of a slightly lighter shade that didn¡¯t quite fit in with the rest of the aqueduct. ¡°Oh, there we go.¡± Jelena pressed the brick inwards. Further along the aqueduct wall, another five-foot by eight-foot fa?ade of bricks moved up and out of the way. A hidden doorway was revealed. Finding it using the Menu would have been easy peasy. But Jelena¡¯s eyepatch highlighted the problem with that. ¡°Good job, kid,¡± the relic thief said. Enkidu was at a narrow archway just to their left, leaning against the cold stone. He reared up and made for the archway in silence. I bet he knew where the hidden switch was this whole time, Jelena thought. It was tough, living sans System in the lands wholly controlled by the Church of the Menu. Enkidu¡¯d never been branded, while Jelena had forsaken it. This holy child they¡¯d come to be caretakers for was integrated into the System far more than most. She could read between the lines of the Interface, even edit and perhaps control the Holy Menu, with practice. All this made Zilara invaluable ¨C and a perpetual target of the church for the rest of her days, and the days of her entire family line. It was a recipe for perpetual flight ¨C and fight. Good, then, that Jelena and Enkidu lived a very mobile, extremely kinetic existence. The trio walked into the damp confines of the aqueduct. Thieves and smugglers built these passageways running parallel and overlapping with the water transportation system of the city. They made handy shortcuts when there weren¡¯t brigands and cutthroats hiding within waiting to knife you. ¡°This isn¡¯t our usual route,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Some pirate-looking guys were at the old cistern. We¡¯ll just have to take a detour. No problem, yeah?¡± ¡°It¡¯s your hideout,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Lead the way.¡± Jelena peered into the dark. The cisterns seemed a bit gloomier than usual. ¡°Curious,¡± she muttered. ¡°Can barely see a thing. Hey, kid, your eyes work in the dark right?¡± Twin silver-colored eyes pierced the dark. ¡°Can see a rough outline of everything.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Jelena waved her companions further inside. They wouldn¡¯t need a torch, at least. Goal number one in slinking through the cisterns was to lay low from the church hunters. Enkidu had kept Baldr and Walter at bay for a day and a half until the group had managed to disappear into the swampy wilds of the river delta. The hunters would still be searching, and they knew Jelena and company went south¡­ The second goal was to raid the late Metzger Cross¡¯s old storage rooms for supplies. More food always helped and spare gold stashes were never a bad thing to dig up. But Jelena¡¯s ultimate goal was to find some spare rings of Title Spoofing and Glamour. Useless for herself and Enkidu, outside the Interface such that they were. But the holy child¡¯s two biggest identifiers ¨C that custom class and the twin-eye brands ¨C would be covered up. Suddenly, they could move without a constant church presence hounding them at every settlement. The trio walked north and west, following the winding aqueduct. While it still flowed down the channels to its lowest level, the waters seemed more brackish than usual. And that smell, a foul stench of decay she¡¯d never quite encountered before¡­ Enkidu let out a sniff and a grumble as they walked, slowly, uphill.
Calaf¡¯s previous experience in the cisterns and his handy map helped him navigate. No sooner had he walked into the dingy channels and narrow confines of the town cisterns were his nostrils overpowered by a familiar smell. That stench. Calaf¡¯s mind flitted to his experience in the dark of the lighthouse basement. He¡¯d smelled that before. These waterways supplied some small fraction of the city¡¯s water to ritual pools in the church¡¯s reliquary halls. The pools surrounded each statue as just a narrow trickle of water, a reminder of the Menu¡¯s life-giving and life-enhancing properties. No doubt this was how Metzger and the cabal of thieves moonlighting as bishops made their treks between the cathedral and their thieves¡¯ guild hideouts. If so, it should be a simple matter of following the channels north and west. There were plenty of alcoves, side passageways, and small rooms off the path that required investigating. Vines grew arbitrarily, overtaking entire doorways while ignoring other chambers without rhyme or reason. Waters were low in the dry season. Many passages were high up and inaccessible. Others required ladders that had rusted away or were entirely missing. Still, the fetid vines and tendrils hung low, lapping up water and skirting the walls and ceilings of the lowest levels. Far above, this cistern was open to the air. All the better to collect rainwater in the rainy seasons. The flash of the lighthouse passed by, but did not illuminate, the shaded cistern at regular intervals. Two entrances waited ahead. The furthest away was covered so thickly in vines that the passage was inaccessible. The other, just off to the right, was untouched by the rot. Calaf exhaled. If his bearings were correct, the quickest path back to the thieves¡¯ guild cistern was right through that thick coverage of vines and fungus. Fell spores wafted out. He certainly didn¡¯t want to breathe that in, and burning the obstruction away would be too time-consuming. He thought that this path to his right would take him east a ways. According to the maps, some channels looped back around north and west. He would have to try this alternative route. No sooner did Calaf refresh his flame buff on his spear did he make out the distinct sounds of leather boots on the wet stone coming from up ahead. The Squire knelt, focusing his ears as much as his off-class Agility stats would allow. The sound of a swinging axe off stone came from up ahead. More footsteps, fleeing further away. Scowling, Calaf advanced. It appeared Mal¡¯s pirate posse was already attempting their rescue mission. It also appeared that this posse required rescuing themselves. Calaf picked up the pace.
No signs of battle were found in the next cistern. Even the din of flight and combat receded far into the distance. Only a few dropped hatchets were discovered in the shallows. Of foreign make, these hand axes were not compatible with the Interface; Calaf couldn¡¯t give them a proper swing in combat if he tried. More footfalls from near a far passageway, up a damp set of stairs. These were fast and furtive. Panicked. Calaf followed. Sounds wafted in from all directions, whispers drifting through narrow grates and shouts echoing off waterfalls and drainage pools. Navigation grew near impossible amidst the cacophony. There was little in the way of plant growth here at least, so Calaf just traveled forward toward the next reservoir to get his bearings. A figure lay doubled over on his back at a crossroads in the narrow corridors. ¡°Are you hurt? What happened here?¡± The sailor did not respond, merely gazed up at the cold stone ceiling in a state of shock. He said something in a foreign language. Unbranded, there was little information to be gleamed as Calaf stood over him. It wasn¡¯t Mal, at least Calaf didn¡¯t think it was Mal; hard to tell between the low light and the lack of identification and status windows, admittedly.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. This unconverted sailor¡¯s body had been¡­ torn apart, with bones broken by hand. As if mauled by a particularly vicious dire-gorilla. ¡°I can¡¯t heal you without a Brand,¡± Calaf said. Healing items could have some nominal effect, but he needed to get this man back to a priest. Then that priest would likely need to convert the man with a Brand just for the poor fool¡¯s survival. Again, the sailor said something in a foreign language. Perhaps a prayer. With a shudder, the man doubled over and then remained still. That was it. This man was dead. HP would be at 0 were the foreigner Interface compatible. But as a non-convert, he was just¡­ dead. No chance of being commended to the crypts. No promised resurrection in the far-off promised future. ¡°Whatever faith you have across the sea, I hope it has some better end for you,¡± Calaf said, then closed the dead man¡¯s eyes in a fashion he¡¯d heard was favored in foreign lands. Calaf rose and continued onward. He had mere minutes left on his silent-walking buff and wanted to cover more ground before he started alerting the entire cistern network every time his heavy metal boot splashed against the water lapping at his shins. The Squire advanced, shield raised. Just as soon as Calaf took five steps beyond the fallen sailor, the corpse lurched upward. Its shoulders slouched and angled downward as if it were held aloft by strings.
¡°Here we go.¡± Jelena rooted through an old treasure trove. ¡°Courtesy of the thieves¡¯ guild.¡± The former church sister and current relic thief provided Zilara a Bronze Ring of Title Spoofing and a Gold Ring of Glamour. There were some Silver Rings of Level Spoofing but the kid hardly needed that so long as she had the other two. ¡°Looks like there¡¯s quite a few of these. The whole chest is full of them,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Guess it¡¯s their official ring storage. At least Metz was organized.¡± ¡°What¡¯s in the others?¡± Zilara asked, already equipping her new rings. ¡°Counterfeit gold, it seems,¡± said Enkidu. ¡°While we¡¯re here, might as well go knock off the rest of the treasure troves.¡± Jelena turned, then found the darkness of the cisterns a bit too gloomy to navigate by. ¡°Hey, kid, mind using those magic eyes of yours to navigate us?¡± Only, Zilara was staring at the lone door out of this chamber. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± the child asked softly. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°The lady by the door.¡± Jelena froze, then reached for a knife. ¡°She¡¯s gone. Left before I could read her Interface. Think it said she was a maid.¡± Impossible. Jelena hadn¡¯t heard a single footprint. ¡°Enkidu, keep watch, buddy. You¡¯ve gotta tell us when we¡¯re being tailed.¡± ¡°I neither heard nor smelt a thing,¡± said the wild man. ¡°Shit. Ominous!¡± Jelena reached for her other knife. ¡°Okay, weapons up. Zilara, stick near me, tell me when someone¡¯s coming. We¡¯ll¡­ head back to the treasure troves near the old cistern, then take the secret passage out. It¡¯s the fastest way to go.¡± The trio ventured back into a narrow crawlway. Enkidu had their back. Jelena took point, with Zilara hiding behind her legs directly behind her. She had Zilara check each corner before proceeding onward. ¡°Something comes,¡± Enkidu said, his ears nearly twitching. ¡°There!¡± Zilara pointed off to the right. A rushing horde, moving so fluidly it was like storming floodwaters, hit them from a blind turn.
Calaf tumbled backward into a drained cistern. He fell from a high ledge into water up to his knees. His spear landed in the reservoir and was extinguished. That nameless sailor wailed against the Squire. Each punch was harder than it ought to be, even for a particularly muscular unbranded human. The first hit dissipated his blessing-based shield from Deacon, and then every additional jab and punch shorn hit points off the Squire. With shield in hand, Calaf provided a mighty bash that sent the walking corpse flailing backward. The sailor fell into the water¡­ then was hoisted as if picked up by the scruff and was placed back on his feet. Hands flailed about like they were on wires. Another shield bash, this time angling the sailor into the wall. Calaf bashed and bashed again until the sailor was embedded into the solid brick. With a sigh, Calaf went fishing for his spear. No sooner did he pick it up than he was beset by a new opponent rushing on surprisingly silent feet despite the fact they were ankle-deep in water.
Name: Marianne, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Initiate
Level 2
Status: -157/10 (Dead)
Name: Yalo, Homeless Wayfarer
Rank: Initiate
Level 3
Status: -349/14 (Dead)
The duo, a man in wanderer¡¯s robes and a woman in a torn and dirty maid outfit started tearing into Calaf with the same surprising brute strength. He held his shield forth, but some claws and jabs inevitably got through. Both corpses were covered in vines, dull-orange flower petals, and the odd fungal growth. ¡°Welcome back,¡± said the trio all at once. Even the maid¡¯s voice came out deep and guttural like heavy globules of fat were insulating the vocal cords. Calaf struck out, stabbing the maid square in the abdomen. The corpse took another thirty points of damage but proceeded to continue to advance, sliding down the spear. ¡°I missed you,¡± said the three possessed corpses. A swift kick sent the maid flying. Calaf saw a glow down the nearest hallway. That meant fire, which presumably meant life. The sailor he¡¯d bashed into the wall was peeling himself out. Rather than stick around to get overrun, Calaf made a fighting retreat. Soon his shield was taking up the narrow corridor, keeping the reanimated corpses at bay.
A group of foreign sailors, nine out of ten unbranded, fought their last stand in a cistern with a built-up wooden platform over the water. They were beset by other walking corpses, both Branded and unbranded. Calaf could hear the sounds of battle. But he still had this entire hallway on lockdown, the three corpses unable to get past his shield. ¡°Is anyone there?¡± Calaf yelled back. ¡°They¡¯re everywhere!¡± Was the only response. ¡°Fire. Use fire!¡± he said. The corpses pushed Calaf back to the edge of the hallway, his feet in the cistern where an open battle raged at his back. ¡°We¡¯ve got a couple that way,¡± said one sailor. ¡°They get up from literally anything else we do to them! Hack their arms off. Hack their legs and heads off¡­¡± Calaf relit his spear with Flaming Sword of Faith and stabbed the nameless sailor¡¯s corpse currently bearing down on his shield. The corpse went up like dry parchment, despite waterlogged clothes and skin. On some unseen signal, the maid and Yalo ran off. ¡°These are retreating. Hold on, I¡¯m coming to help you!¡± In the cistern at large, pandemonium reigned. Sailors hacked at Branded corpses, shaving off HP and slicing off limbs to no effect. An unbranded sailor was slain by two of his repurposed fellows. No sooner did they move to the next, nearest living body did the dead man get back up and join them. One sailor went wild with a torch, frying three foes at once, who all went running off deeper into the waterways to find a pool to dive into. Successful use of flame seemed to give the army of puppet corpses pause. They all slunk away through corridors in the compass directions, even the dead sailors whose corpses were fresh kills got up and ran off. ¡°Is everyone okay?¡± Calaf asked. A handful of sailors remained standing. Many more were on the floor, doubled over with various injuries. ¡°Is Mal still here?¡± Calaf cried. His voice echoed through the damp cistern. ¡°Aye, over here,¡± groaned a man on the floor. ¡°One of those things grabbed my stomach and just¡­ just started pulling things out.¡± The sailor¡¯s shirt was pulled up, revealing some grizzly black and purple wounds around the man¡¯s midsection. ¡°I think they broke some of my ribs with their bare hands.¡± Mal grimaced in pain. ¡°I can¡¯t heal you without a Brand,¡± Calaf said. Maybe six other sailors remained with any ability to fight. There were many injured but no corpses, save for a single dead Branded.
Name: Garth, Sailor
Rank: Fighter
Level 21
Status: -2/89 (Dead)
All the other dead bodies had gotten up and shambled off. ¡°Can any of you carry that man back?¡± the Squire asked. The sailors looked at him like dire-salmon were swimming out of his ears. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°To commend to the crypt¡­ oh, never mind. It would leave you exposed. Allow me.¡± Calaf ensured the fire enhancement on his spear was still burning and plunged it into Garth¡¯s corpse. Better to burn than be allowed to decay and join the rotting undead swarm. ¡°How many people did you come down here with?¡± Mal had by now been helped up to his feet, leaning against one of his fellow sailors. ¡°The entire ship. We¡¯re all that¡¯s left.¡± Six were still capable of fighting, and maybe ten could still walk. This was no army. ¡°How many torches do you have left?¡± Calaf asked. Three remained, two unlighted from having fallen into the water. Calaf relit them with his burning spear. ¡°Retreat. Leave this place,¡± Calaf said. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere until I find my wife,¡± Mal said. ¡°She¡¯s one of you Branded. Works as a maid.¡± ¡°A maid?¡± Calaf exhaled. ¡°I¡­ encountered a maid earlier. She was rotting, covered in this fungus.¡± The cistern grew quiet. ¡°Her name.¡± Mal scowled at Calaf. ¡°You can see names with that Brand thing, right? What was her name?¡± ¡°Mary¡­ Marianne.¡± Mal grimaced. ¡°Damnit. That was her friend. That was the only maid you¡¯ve seen? Barbara went looking for her straight from a shift at some trade conglomerate¡¯s manse. She would¡¯ve been wearing her maid¡¯s apron.¡± ¡°I have seen no others.¡± Calaf put his hand on Mal¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If I find this Barbara, I will get her out of here. You have my word. And if she¡¯s already taken¡­¡± Mal swatted the Squire¡¯s hands away. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare torch my wife! I don¡¯t care how bad a condition she looks like she¡¯s in, we¡¯re gonna get her back!¡± The unconverted didn¡¯t see the Interface like Branded did. They didn¡¯t see the Menu designating that these shambling fungus-addled corpses were listed as ¡®Dead¡¯ clear as day. They didn¡¯t see that these were corpses that were attacking them and not just friends and allies bewitched by some foul magic. They were at an impasse. A low rumbling came from a platform midway up the cistern. Something was barreling down a corridor at high speed, bringing with it a whirlwind sound of metal against stone and flesh. And ahead of this stomping deluge, another pair of fleet footsteps¡­ they grew closer, closer, until¡­ Jelena Turandot ran into the cistern from a ledge two stories above. She held a small child in her hands. She looked down and immediately spied Calaf out of the crowd. ¡°Jelena!¡± Calaf¡¯s eyes widened the moment she came into view. He raised a hand to wave to her, to warn her that there was something foul in these tunnels and that she should flee for her safety. ¡°Incoming!¡± Jelena shouted. She dived out of the way, while Enkidu was pushed out of the corridor at high speed, a stream of Branded and unbranded corpses rushing out in his wake.
Chapter Sixty-Three: Delving Deeper
Dozens upon dozens of fungus-ridden corpses crashed dead center in the cistern. What members of Mal¡¯s posse could still flee ran for the edges, then made for stairs or higher ground. Those that couldn¡¯t disappeared, and soon joined the horde. Calaf struck out with his burning spear, igniting corpse after corpse. An unbranded sailor here, a missing innkeeper there, a cathedral guard who¡¯d crashed against his shield. Still, they kept coming. He stood between the horde and Mal, who was backed against a corner. As a Squire, it was his role, his purpose. Enkidu stood dead center in the reservoir, slicing everyone within sword range. Arms, heads, and torsos were all shorn off and sent flying, only to come crawling back or reattaching themselves to their host corpses like they were bound by invisible strings. This was, perhaps, the one foe Enkidu was not equipped to handle, for it shrugged off his usual viciously high-offense, minimal-defense attack style. High above, Jelena fled with Zilara in hand from a single corpse.
Name: Isen, Firefield Mage
Rank: Cleric
Level 47
Status: -1470/130 (Dead)
The relic thief turned, held out a small metallic tube, and pulled a knob. The shrill din of a gunshot filled the cistern, echoing off every stone. Steel buckshot flew out in a plume, knocking her foe down and adding a whopping two hundred fifty damage to the creature¡¯s negative HP status bar.
Name: Isen, Firefield Mage
Rank: Cleric
Level 47
Status: -1722/130 (Dead)
After a brief pause, this corpse was propelled by some force back to its feet and continued the assault. Jelena swore, the exact word unintelligible over the fighting. ¡°Going to need incendiary ammo,¡± she said. Down against the wall, Calaf continued his doomed defense against the rising tide of walking death. ¡°Mal, can you walk!?¡± he cried. Mal nodded, limping over to the nearest stairs. Calaf provided much-needed cover until the injured man was at higher ground. The sailors had let loose with those torches when the horde fell upon them. Any corpse that was so much as nicked by the flames lit up like a torch. It was certainly the case with Calaf¡¯s fire spear. ¡°Enkidu!¡± Calaf bellowed. He held his fire spear out, using his shield as a ram to force his way towards the center. The wild man caught on to Calaf¡¯s meaning. He cut his way to Calaf¡¯s position, then tapped his sword to the burning spearhead. The fire caught, and Enkidu immediately turned his new fire sword against the corpses that had taken to grabbing and gnawing and tearing at his abdomen. Three quick sword strikes bounced harmlessly against Calaf¡¯s Shield of Fireproofing as the Squire made his retreat toward higher ground. Once he was on the stairs, Calaf found Jelena¡¯s position again. Isen, the dead cleric, continued his slow limping walk, that gunshot having torn some ligament or another. ¡°If I only had access to your spells under the Interface, there¡¯d be none of you left,¡± said the cleric, deep and guttural. The voice was echoed by every other corpse in the cistern, even the ones on fire. ¡°What was that!?¡± Jelena asked. Mal only swore in some foreign tongue. From a high point on the stairs, Calaf readied his spear.
Special Technique: Thrown Spear Effect: Chuck Your Spear at An Enemy (Not Recommended Mid-Fight!)
Still aflame, the spear flew and nailed Isen in the center of mass. This corpse, too, turned into a candle. Enkidu¡¯s assault had by now turned the cistern floor into a sea of fire. Corpses ran off to find water and filtered out of the dried-up reservoir like flowing liquid. At least one sailor was dragged, screaming for help, into the darkness by the horde. Enkidu was dissuaded from following only when his sword extinguished itself.
¡°By the flame god, the entire crew,¡± Mal managed, still doubled over on the stairs. ¡°Just the three of us!? Out of a crew of fifty!¡± The wounded down on the cistern floor had no chance when the deluge of fungus and rot hit. They¡¯d been trampled or otherwise killed and joined the swarm. Those who could fight tried to get to high ground and were mostly consumed in turn. Those with torches managed to at least put up a fight, and they made up the other two survivors aside from Mal. ¡°What¡­ was that?¡± Jelena asked, carrying Zilara over to Calaf and Mal¡¯s position. Enkidu sniffed the air near one of the drainage passageways. He was comparing scents, trying to find a trail. ¡°You three, get back to the cathedral.¡± Calaf pointed to the sailors. ¡°Aye, can barely walk.¡± Mal fell to his knees. The two remaining sailors picked him up. ¡°Splitting the party seems bad in this kind of situation,¡± Jelena said.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°Keep your torches ready at all times,¡± Calaf ordered. ¡°How do we¡­ get out?¡± asked a sailor. ¡°There.¡± Calaf swiftly reoriented himself and pointed to the passageway he¡¯d come through. ¡°Straight through an intersection, a left, straight through, a right, then a left and straight until you reach the reliquary hall. There may still be at least two of those things ¨C again, keep your torches at the ready and check your corners!¡± ¡°If you see my wife.¡± Mal coughed up some blood. ¡°If Barbara¡¯s been turned by whatever foul necromancy¡¯s running around down here. Promise me you¡¯ll. Burn her. Same with her coworker, Marianne.¡± ¡°On my honor.¡± Calaf gave a polite nod. Then, to the other two sailors: ¡°Get him to Pryor Deacon. He¡¯ll know what needs to be done to heal Mal.¡± Though it may require some sacrifices on Mal¡¯s part. Jelena smiled as she observed Calaf¡¯s determination. She was busy prepping a makeshift torch from various items on her person and a bit of driftwood she¡¯d found on the ground. ¡°Hey, kid.¡± She handed one to Zilara. ¡°Go with them. You¡¯ll be better off at the cathedral than down here in the thick of it. Plus, you can see in the dark. Should help these boys out.¡± With a torch in hand, Zilara gave a mock salute. ¡°Straight, left, straight, right, left, straight on. Af-firmative.¡± ¡°Remember to use your glamor and title rings once you¡¯re in the clear. It¡¯ll help us out down the road. Oh, and¡­¡± Jelena got on one knee and whispered. ¡°¡­ if they go for these guys first, you take off running, okay? Just have to be faster than the rest of ¡®em yeah? No shame in leavin¡¯ ¡®em if it gets you to safety.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t let you down, Hoss.¡± Down in the cistern, Enkidu had caught a scent. Calaf and Jelena went down to investigate. ¡°Follow the rot,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Calaf asked Jelena. ¡°Pleasure to meet you again too, hot stuff,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m going to put a stop to the army of bloated corpses propagating here under one of the largest cities on the continent. Like a big goddamn hero. What¡¯re you going to do?¡± ¡°Same,¡± Calaf said simply. ¡°Maybe in more eloquent words but¡­ same.¡± The pair smiled at each other as Enkidu waited, arms crossed.
¡°Eighty-three,¡± Enkidu said after a period of uncomfortable silence. The Flaming Sword of Faith spell could be spread to Enkidu¡¯s swords and Jelena¡¯s knives with about a third of the duration that it had on the spear. They stopped to reapply the enhancement, ensuring it was always active for at least one weapon. That these flaming implements doubled as torches was a nice bonus. ¡°What?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Eighty-three foes were burnt in that cistern. I counted maybe one hundred fifty in total.¡± ¡°Oh, good, so they¡¯re only down by a bit more than half.¡± Calaf paused. ¡°By the Interface, how did so many people go missing?¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised.¡± Jelena shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s more common in trading hubs like this with little in the way of established community and many nooks and crannies, but there are a lot of ways to fall through the cracks.¡± The trio¡¯s slow crawl through the Port Town aqueducts stopped as they heard footsteps cut through the darkness to their right. Calaf raised his spear but could not spy their tail in time. ¡°Sounds like a trap. Let¡¯s ignore it, let them come to us,¡± Jelena said. But Calaf took a step into the darkness, shield raised. Around a corner, he found a line of corpses lying here and there through a side hallway.
Name: Idril, Church Guard.
Rank: Cleric
Level: 45
Status: -5/138 (Dead)
Name: Orun, Church Guard.
Rank: Squire
Level: 43
Status: -7/168 (Dead)
Name: Norman, Church Guard.
Rank: Cleric
Level: 39
Status: -8/138 (Dead)
¡°Must be the guards sent down here from the cathedral,¡± Calaf said. ¡°They lasted awhile. Only recently died.¡± Jelena and Enkidu watched his back as he disposed of these corpses. Better to avoid surprises at their backs. Calaf stabbed the first corpse with his fire spear. He moved to the second, noticed that ¡°Orun¡¯s¡± finger muscles were beginning to twitch, and cremated him as well. Then, when he moved to Norman: ¡°These Brands are s-so very troublesome,¡± said the corpse. ¡°It takes so p-p-prohibitively l-long to override their-¡± Calaf burnt this third corpse as well. Footsteps sounded from the next doorway. ¡°Someone¡¯s close,¡± he said and advanced. A silver dagger bounced harmlessly off Calaf¡¯s shield. He jutted the shield out and a diminutive figure in robes not at all meant for combat at this level fell over onto her back. The figure¡¯s brand was Scoured and the Interface scrambled. But the name could be made out:
Name: Karol of the Olde Capital
¡°How did you get here?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Did Deacon have you come down¡­¡± Karol shook her head. ¡°W-ho? No. I begged the guard captain to let me join. I think he¡¯s stumbling through the halls now. He attacked me when I saw him last.¡± The poor Crimson Mage was shivering. Even she did not know how long she¡¯d been down here for. The fire spear provided some modicum of warmth, but she needed to get topside as soon as possible. ¡°Why did you come down here?¡± ¡°To be useful,¡± she said, voice hoarse. ¡°If my life can be of some use to the church, maybe it¡¯s not for nothing¡­¡± The party gave Carol what healing items and foodstuffs they had available. ¡°Friend of yours?¡± Jelena asked. Enkidu snarled. ¡°She¡¯s the one who¡­¡± ¡°Who¡­ who told you to kill Cayo?¡± Calaf asked. There was a period of silence, during which droplets dripped down from the ceiling into a stagnant waterway. ¡°The¡­ the Deaconess,¡± Karol spoke slowly. ¡°Told me that Scouring the Brand wasn¡¯t a sin if it were for a cause befitting the church. Said I¡¯d be able to get closer, kill the heretics defiling the good name of the Menu.¡± All Calaf heard next was his breathing. Only when Jelena touched his shoulder did he again notice anything beyond the labyrinth of his own mind. ¡°Charlotte told you to do this? To destroy your Brand?¡± In truth, Calaf had feared this since Fort Duran. He¡¯d been operating off this very assumption, even suspecting Karol would attempt some sort of martyrdom of the sort along the path between here and Riverglen. Only now that he¡¯d caught up to Karol had it been confirmed. As for Charlotte, well, the Squire had been thinking of how to approach that since he first set off south through the desert. ¡°Is there anyone else alive down here?¡± Calaf asked. Karol shook her head. ¡°We-we followed someone for a while, but she got away. Just as scared of us as she was of this¡­ thing.¡± She shuddered at the very thought. She hid her face in her hands, then gradually lowered them. ¡°You still have his shield,¡± Karol said, looking at Calaf. ¡°Can you walk?¡± Calaf offered his hand. ¡°Can you fight?¡± Enkidu asked more pointedly. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll do it.¡± Karol nodded and took Calaf¡¯s hand.
The new crew of four advanced down the hall, following the coiling roots and vines deeper into the waterways. Everything was converging at a single, central point. ¡°I know where we¡¯re headed,¡± Calaf realized. The floor was entirely consumed by reddish, veiny roots. In time, the walls and ceiling were consumed too, and the chamber appeared to narrow. Still, the crew stepped forward. Enkidu and Calaf were up front, Jelena in the middle, Karol at the back. The roots all spilled out into another empty cistern, one very much familiar to Calaf. The entire floor was consumed with reddish kudzu, while the new fungal growths changed the chamber beyond recognition and even appeared to soak up and absorb what little illumination remained, he would recognize the cistern where he¡¯d had his first encounter with Metzger in any lighting. High up, at the top of the cistern, was a massive nerve bundle of fungal growth and red-leaf vines. At its heart was a great, glowing pustule. It did seem to be the core of the infestation. What¡¯s more, this bundle was blocking both light and rainwater from above. They were up on a high ledge. Water was meant to cascade from here down into the storage reservoir below. A climb would be required to get down to the floor. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± Enkidu said. He lit his sword upon Calaf¡¯s spear once more, then raked it along the vines at their feet. Flames took off in long arcs, disintegrating the vines and clearing a large swathe of aqueducts. The way down ¨C via a series of precarious footholds moving down the cistern counter-clockwise ¨C was revealed. ¡°Take point, Enkidu,¡± Jelena said. Flaming sword in hand, Enkidu did so. ¡°Keep those eyes open,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Well, eye,¡± Jelena added with a smirk. ¡°But aye.¡± There was another pause. ¡°Kind of wish we hadn¡¯t told Zilara to leave,¡± she went on to say. Once on the ground, the party of four fanned out. Karol stayed near Calaf. Her breathing was irregular, and right at the Squire¡¯s ear. ¡°If anything happens, stick by me,¡± he told her. Without her working Brand, the Crimson Mage had no fire spells. And her blood-stained, reforged dagger was a makeshift weapon not terribly useful for setting aflame. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see anything,¡± Jelena said. Enkidu sniffed the air. ¡°It¡¯s too easy.¡± ¡°Someone just chuck a fireball at that thing up on the ceiling. Sooner we get out of here sooner we can skedaddle out of town.¡± ¡°Something comes.¡± The mushroom-covered wall to Calaf¡¯s left moved. Out lumbered a body twice the size of the average man and with an arm span longer than Calaf was tall. A mighty anchor-sized fist was already pulled back and ready to deliver a full-force punch. This time, Calaf blocked the blow with his shield. He went sliding into a central pillar of mushrooms reaching up to the core. ¡°As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,¡± gurgled the appropriated vocal cords of Bruce, former Thieves Guild heavy. ¡°These Brands slow the conversion process. How troublesome.¡±
Chapter Sixty-Four: Fetid Nest of Rot
Name: Bruce
Rank: Monk, Thieves Guild
Level: 60
Status: -2598/120 (Dead)
¡°These Brands slow the conversion process. How troublesome.¡± Bruce¡¯s puppeteered corpse wound up for another punch. These cadavers attacked without any fetters that would cause living mortals to hold back. But Calaf was far stronger now than he was when he first encountered Bruce here in the very same cistern. He blocked again, being pushed further into the wall of fungus. Dozens of corpses emerged from the walls and dropped from the ceiling. All were ready to do battle as soon as they landed. It was as if this was some sort of nest by which the dead were consumed and converted. Enkidu wasted no time engaging anyone in stabbing range. Corpses lit aflame and burnt into heaps as his flaming sword went wild. A group of three corpses fell at the far end of the cistern. They rose to their feet and rushed into position in a triangle pattern around Enkidu, well out of range of his strikes. Each was a Cleric, titled ¡®Port Town Monastic Friar.¡¯ With a sickening, wet peeling sound, the friars¡¯ bodies opened like flowers lengthwise. They erupted in a screaming cascade of vines and tendrils that had replaced all organs. Everything must have been under great pressure, as the rot just kept coming in volumes that far exceeded what a cadaver should have held. The rot surrounded Enkidu, who swung away and burnt vine after vine. But even the swordman¡¯s inhuman speed was not enough to keep the tide at bay, and it soon washed over him even as he continued his assault. Jelena¡¯s fire-imbued knives cut other corpses away. She sliced up a long-dead sailor labeled as ¡°Bart¡± in the Menu, then burnt another labeled ¡®Griff¡¯. She then danced circles around anything that lunged at her. That was, until she encountered:
Name: Edward, Overcurious Child.
Rank: Initiate
Level 1
Status: -380/10 (Dead)
Jelena froze. The corpse took a swipe at her with an improvised shiv, which she barely dodged. Then, Edward, Overcurious Child burst into another high-pressure bloom of vines that sent Jelena flying towards the far wall. She wound up tangled in vines around her arms and neck, her eyepatch disheveled and revealing her Scoured Brand. Bruce and the other unsanctified corpses all chuckled at once. The undead monk reached back to grab the tangle of vines exploding out of Edward. The overcurious child dropped to the floor, deflated, while the vines fused with Bruce¡¯s fist. ¡°¡­ The unbranded, though. They are quite easy to convert. In ideal conditions, with the right temperature and shade and dampness just like this, the life drains out of them while I can slink right in.¡± Vines began to constrict around Jelena¡¯s neck. She dropped her knives and instinctually reached up to her throat to free herself, but the tendrils writhed to defy her grip. ¡°Get away from her you- guh-¡± Calaf was tackled by a repurposed cathedral guard captain and dropped his spear. The guard captain loomed over Calaf, arms clawing at his neck. Calaf beat him away, then grabbed his shield and blocked the corpse¡¯s lightning-fast counterattacks.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Over along the wall, Jelena¡¯s struggles were weakening. ¡°Yes. A quick death, and then I will repurpose this flesh.¡± Bruce¡¯s puppet body had something approaching a smile, held taut by rigor mortis though it was. Calaf¡¯s shield was Fireproof, yes. But he cast Flaming Sword of Faith on it anyway to get a nice incendiary sheen on the business end. With a leap, he slammed it into the ground, sending a wave of embers flying every which way. The guard captain burned, and even Bruce¡¯s vines caught fire only to be swiftly replaced by new growth. ¡°Soon. The Spark of Life cannot be fettered for long.¡± Over by the wall, Jelena let out a sickly gurgling sound. Her arms grew heavy and began a slow fall towards her side. Both eyes grew unfocused. She twitched slightly. Brief flashes of Jelena, just another face among a horde rife with fungal growths and parasitic infestation rushed through Calaf¡¯s head. She¡¯d be attacking him within seconds. He couldn¡¯t let that happen. The spear was not where he¡¯d dropped it. Instead, Karol had it, spearhead still aflame, and was rushing towards the central fungal pillar. She began to climb. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it!¡± Calaf cheered. ¡°Burn the core. Cleanse this place.¡± ¡°Futile,¡± Bruce bellowed. ¡°Foolish. Another unbranded for my collection.¡± Calaf turned to his trusty Steel Vorpal Knife he¡¯d been saving for just such an occasion. He leaped forward and sliced some vines away, then took a swing at Bruce proper. A mammoth hand grabbed the knife. ¡°I knew your parents. Dead on the side of a random road in the plains,¡± said the entity. Another Flaming Sword of Faith incantation set the knife ablaze and burst Bruce¡¯s free hand to pieces. Calaf sidestepped his foe¡¯s tentacled hand and with an acrobatic leap more befitting a Scout class, he sliced Bruce¡¯s neck clear off. Bruce¡¯s HP was now in the -3000 range. Still, his head hung on by a series of squirming vines in place of a spine. Calaf ran to the back of the puppet, readied his knife in both hands, and lunged, thrusting the knife into Bruce¡¯s side. ¡°One mistake on the road. Any death for any reason that doesn¡¯t leave you locked away in the crypts, and you too will be with me,¡± Bruce spoke, despite his vocal cords being run clean through. The gargantuan frame of Bruce finally caught fire with the knife embedded deep within him. Bruce continued to gaze dead-eyed and upside down at Calaf even as the flames turned the mountainous corpse into a towering inferno. The vines around Jelena¡¯s neck loosened. She fell to her knees, coughing profusely. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Calaf rushed to her side. Jelena coughed up bile, constantly rubbing her neck. It was some time before she could even talk. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± She coughed again. ¡°Ah, guess we¡¯re even.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve saved my life at least twice,¡± Calaf said. ¡°This just repays the one.¡± When Jelena¡¯s breathing was under control, she took Calaf¡¯s hand and helped herself to her feet. She kissed his cheek on the way up. ¡°Feel free to repay that one however you want.¡± Jelena winked. All the while, Karol continued to climb the central fungal mound, holding a fire-imbued spear in hand. She held the weapon as close to the burning spearhead as possible, then thrust it into a pulsing pustule at the heart of this web of vines. The core caught fire, spreading to the roots and vines and rapidly burning the infestation away throughout the entire reservoir complex. Vines shriveled right at Calaf and Jelena¡¯s feet, fire racing onward through corridors and aqueducts. ¡°Ah, we did it.¡± Jelena let out a long, fatigued sigh. ¡°That we did.¡± Jelena leaned forward. ¡°Working together really helps build camaraderie.¡± ¡°That it does.¡± Calaf felt a blush on his cheeks. ¡°So, got any plans on how to celebrate?¡± Jelena smiled. The moment was ruined as long-imbedded corpses began to fall from the newly burnt-away fungal growth lining the cistern. The central pillar remained, resistant to burning, while the destroyed tendrils took Karol¡¯s footholds away. Then, another corpse wearing a ruined maid apron, buried within the pillar itself, emerged through a thick carpet of mushroom caps. Karol grappled with this corpse and fell, twirling, to the ground. The corpse of Marianne, Maid of Port Town, having garnered another handful of negative hit points onto her long-dead Menu designation since her last encounter, landed atop Karol and started throttling and tearing at the former crimson mage¡¯s minimal armor. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be that easy!¡± Jelena cried, picking up and re-lighting her knives against Calaf¡¯s smoldering shield. All around, more and more corpses continued to fall. A veritable hive was here, waiting. Destroying its nerve center only riled up the rest of the army of creeping undeath. Armed only with his shield, Calaf set it aflame once more and served as cover for Jelena while she hacked away at anything that came near them. They made their way towards where Karol was being attacked. The triangular jungle of gnarled kudzu over on the far end of the cylindrical reservoir smoldered and burned. Enkidu emerged, sword still with a whiff of flame about it, and set about slaying any walking corpse that rushed for him. With a mighty, flaming shield bash, Calaf incinerated the late Marianne, freeing Karol. She remained on the floor, too injured to move, as Calaf, Jelena, and Enkidu stood around her, slicing and bashing as the entire horde bore down upon them. Only once the last corpse fell upon Calaf¡¯s shield and set itself alight did the cistern again fall into an eerie, uncomfortable silence.
Karol¡¯s wounds were vast. She stared up at the remaining rot that climbed up the cistern¡¯s walls. They¡¯d burnt away most of the vines, but the fungus was too thick to ever truly eliminate. ¡°C¡¯mon. We¡¯ll get you back to the cathedral. Get you a Brand again.¡± ¡°Calaf. She¡¯s too injured to move.¡± Jelena said. ¡°Then we¡¯ll get a priest in here,¡± Calaf said, harsher than he meant. ¡°She¡¯ll need healing spells.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Karol managed, voice giving out. ¡°Without my brother. The Brand is useless. I¡¯ll be resurrected into a world that doesn¡¯t¡­¡± She coughed up some viscous, orangish fluid. ¡°¡­ doesn¡¯t have my family in it. That¡¯s no paradise.¡± Calaf closed his eyes but did not respond. ¡°Tell that kind Deaconess that I served.¡± Karol coughed. ¡°Served the church well. Just like she said. When she cut my Brand away I was so scared. But I did what she requested. I was useful.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell her.¡± Calaf¡¯s face was unreadable. ¡°Better to be burnt here than¡­ than¡­¡± Karol¡¯s fingers began to twitch off rhythm with the rest of her body. ¡°Than¡­¡± Wordless, Calaf retrieved his spear, then cast Flaming Sword of Faith. He waited until Karol¡¯s eyes fluttered shut, a last shuddering breath leaving the Crimson Mage, and then plunged his spear into her heart. Burnt, to deny her to the rot.
Chapter Sixty-Five: Unstoppable Tide of Life, Unbridled
The fetid plants had been burnt away, though some fungal growth remained. The odd leaf was left swaying about in a faint breeze on the floor. Calaf studied a five-pronged maple-style leaf that had survived the blaze. It was red and orangish, not unlike a tree in the Fall. Calaf, Jelena, and Enkidu walked out of the cistern. The flames cleared out many of the thickest trunks and branches of the rot. Entire pathways were revealed that had been blocked previously, including the old secret route to the thieves¡¯ guild hideout. The trio traveled there and then saw evidence of the old sailor¡¯s posse that had been blocked by the growth and ventured deeper into the cisterns, unknowingly to their doom. ¡°Ah, guess we¡¯ve got to hit the cathedral, don¡¯t we?¡± Jelena said. ¡°Getting Zilara back is going to require¡­ finesse.¡± This pathway would drop them back out at the north side of town, a fair jaunt from the cathedral. Doubling back through the cisterns, retracing their path through the aqueducts and channels was always an option. Not that anyone other than single-minded Enkidu was willing to spend another unnecessary minute down here in the depths. As they made for the exit, Calaf felt eyes upon him. Moreover, he heard the shimmer of an Interface. The Squire turned his head left, just noticing the hem of a maid dress disappear behind a blind curb. Calaf pursued. ¡°Hey, wait!¡± Jelena said. ¡°We don¡¯t know how many of these things are still out here.¡± ¡°I saw her interface. Just¡­ stay close, keep us covered!¡±
The figure zipped this way and that through the dingy, rot-covered halls. Calaf followed as fast as his heavy armor would allow. ¡°Wait. We¡¯re here to rescue you,¡± he said. Still, the mystery woman fled. ¡°Your husband was here with us!¡± Calaf said. Ah, well, he should probably attempt to say things that didn¡¯t sound like he was part of a rotting collective. Nevertheless, Calaf chased after her ¨C again, behavior that hardly differentiated him from the walking corpses they¡¯d been fighting all night! The chase ended at a dead-end side chamber with five shallow graves now filled with rotten growths. Cowering in the corner, Menu designation marking her as among the living, was:
Name: Barbara, Maid of Port Town
Rank: Handywoman
Level 36
Status: 36/68 (Terrified Beyond Capacity for Reasonable Thought)
One of the noncombat classes. Still, judging by all the gunk on her dress, Miss Barbara, wife of sailor Mal, had engaged in all manner of combat to survive in the depths. ¡°We¡¯re here to rescue you!¡± Squire Calaf said. Yes, that was better. More human, less out to convert her into one of the undead. The terrified maid shook, holding an improvised blunt object as her only defense. Enkidu and Jelena arrived at the entrance. The appearance of a long-haired wild man and a one-eyed rogue, both unbranded, did little to calm Barbara¡¯s nerves. To win her trust, Calaf cast an Intermediate Heal to top up her health. ¡°These things. They¡­ can¡¯t do that,¡± Barbara said. ¡°See? We¡¯re still alive,¡± Jelena said rather abruptly. ¡°I can carry her if need be,¡± Enkidu added. ¡°Won¡¯t be necessary.¡± Calaf offered his hand, which Barbara took. For their next conundrum, the group had to determine how best to exfiltrate. Barbara was freezing, suffering from days under the elements, and afraid of every shadow. She required a proper healer, which only the cathedral could provide. Enkidu and Jelena were of course continent-most-wanted super-criminals, who didn¡¯t want to risk an uncomfortable conversation with the church guards. Still, Zilara ought to be at the cathedral, and they weren¡¯t leaving without her. What¡¯s more, nobody wanted to spend another minute in these dingy reservoirs. Still, the group retraced Mal and his ship crew¡¯s doomed rescue expedition, rediscovering areas where each sailor fell, then rose, in turn. Nobody thought for a moment that they¡¯d slain every living corpse in this winding drainage and water storage network. The reservoirs would require a deep cleansing, potentially a years-long operation. ¡°What were those things?¡± Barbara asked after a time. Calaf shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t know. But I¡¯ve seen them before.¡± On their trip back, Calaf took the time to describe his previous encounter with that entity beneath the lighthouse. ¡°I¡¯ve seen some dead pilgrims in my time,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Ones decayed beyond the ability to consecrate. Back when I still had the ol¡¯ Brand, things would¡­ move. Corpses changed position, it seemed. Some unbranded animals even disappeared after they were killed.¡± ¡°How did you lose your Brand, oh savior?¡± Barbara asked. ¡°Oh?¡± Jelena put a hand on her eyepatch. ¡°Lost it in a freak haberdashery accident. Yes.¡± The lie dampened the mood, and they marched in silence through the reservoirs on a southerly route.
The crew approached the narrow entrance back to the reliquary hall. Rot still reigned here, though no further repurposed corpses were yet seen. Neither was there any evidence that Mal¡¯s group had been ambushed during their retreat. ¡°Okay, we¡¯re going to be beset by guards as soon as we enter the church,¡± Jelena said. ¡°We can always just fight our way to Zilara and make for the eastern gate,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°A decapitation strike would leave the entire city in chaos. We could escape in the confusion.¡± ¡°Wait, wait!¡± Calaf threw his hands up. ¡°I know people there.¡± Jelena sighed. She seemed like she¡¯d wanted to go for that route. It was a reminder to the upstanding-if-disillusioned Squire that, rapport though he¡¯d established with the pair, they were still outlaws. Calaf was going to have to reconcile with that if he and Jelena were going to be together as allies ¨C or otherwise. ¡°Let me escort Barbara in.¡± Calaf rested a reassuring hand on the maid¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I will explain things to the Pryor. He¡¯s a trusted friend of mine.¡± ¡°I think even the kindliest pryor will still hand us over to the church arbiters,¡± Jelena said. The tension between the pair¡¯s life paths hung in the air, and Jelena seemed to sense that. Enkidu let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Okay, okay. We¡¯ll play by your rules.¡± Jelena took a step down a side corridor. ¡°We can double back to the surface around here, stop by once you¡¯ve¡­ ironed things out. At worst we just sneak in and get Zilara. Hopefully, she remembered those rings¡­¡± The pair of outlaws slunk off, leaving just one more straightaway between Calaf, Barbara, and the safety of the cathedral.
¡°I¡­ I just went looking for my coworker,¡± Barbara said as they entered the statue hall dedicated to the Ancient Heroes of Yore. ¡°I never found her. Only, I saw her sailor beau¡­ changed.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I am sorry,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Marianne, another maid? We found her. She¡¯d slain a friend of mine. But we put her to rest.¡± Barbara began to cry, which summoned the guards at the statuary hall¡¯s locked gate. ¡°Let us in!¡± Calaf shouted. The gate swung open, and Calaf escorted Barbara out. Healers waited in the darkened main hall of the cathedral. They quickly and rather brusquely separated Barbara from Calaf and applied some additional healing and purification spells to the beleaguered maid. Pryor Deacon was there waiting for Calaf. ¡°You survived.¡± Deacon¡¯s smile appeared pleased at the fact. ¡°When those three sailors returned with only a single child in hand to show for their sacrifices, we feared the worst.¡± ¡°I found your church rescue party,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Dead, aside from the quarry I was looking for. She, too, died, unbranded, cleansing the reservoirs of corruption.¡± ¡°Please. You must be tired and thirsty. Come.¡± Deacon had a set of tea and other warm drinks arranged at a pew. ¡°This will be a long story. Please, tell us what happened down there, for the records.¡±
Calaf described the fateful events of that night. All the while, faint rays of early morning began to shine through the cathedral¡¯s glass. A trained cleric transcribed every word, the same as with his testimony regarding the Battletower crusading actions. Further testimony was interrupted when a figure ran out of the healer¡¯s hall and into the cathedral. ¡°Barbara! Hey, let me see my wife.¡± Deacon waved off some church guards, allowing Mal and Barbara to rush to each other and embrace near a buttress. The sailor now had an Interface designation:
Name: Mal, Foreign Sailor
Rank: Convert
Level 1
Status: 15/15 (Barrel Chested)
A healthy HP pool for a level one. Branding would have been necessary to heal his extensive injuries in a timely fashion. Mal ran up to embrace his now much higher-level wife, Barbara. ¡°It¡¯s been days!¡± he declared. ¡°We were attacked by those things almost immediately upon entering the cisterns. How did you survive?¡± Barbara blubbered out an explanation about fleeing for her life almost constantly for days at a time. ¡°Where are the kids?¡± ¡°Safe! In the apartment, door and windows are locked.¡± Mal examined his wife¡¯s status through his new Interface. ¡°Level thirty-six!? What, you going to be the breadwinner now?¡± ¡°Levels are a pure function of combat and occasionally crafting experience,¡± Deacon interrupted the happy couple. ¡°Your sailing career will remain viable. Why, we have plenty of converts among the merchant marine.¡± ¡°Ay, but now I¡¯m a sailor with no crew!¡± said Mal. ¡°Hells, none of that matters now. Just let me have some time with Barb.¡± Calaf scanned the cathedral. He was looking for a certain someone thereabouts twelve years old. Only, instead of any silver-haired girl, he found a young woman with short black hair:
Name: Zelda, Unassuming Child
Rank: Haberdasher
Level 26
Status: 70/70 (Plain and Unsuspicious)
Not much of a disguise regarding the title. Was there even a ¡®Haberdasher¡¯ class? Calaf did not know. Still, the glamour ring had blessed her with extensive modifications to her appearance. Silver bangs and drill-tails were replaced with a plain straight black bob-type affair. She could pass as Jelena''s fairer-complected cousin, which perhaps was indeed the relic thieves'' alibi. Gone were her eye brands, replaced with a fake one on her ankle instead. An uncommon place for it, but not one that drew any inquisitor¡¯s attention. ¡°Hey, where¡¯s Hoss?¡± she asked. ¡°Hello, ¡®Zelda.¡¯¡± Calaf stifled a chuckle. ¡°They¡¯re laying low. Waiting to pick you up without altercation.¡± ¡°Y¡¯know Hoss likes you something awful,¡± the child currently known as Zelda said. ¡°She totally wants to jump your bones. Would¡¯ve done so too but she¡¯s caught up on your whole honorable knight-man shtick.¡± Calaf¡¯s cheeks morphed into a beat-red hue. ¡°Well, she is a striking and remarkable woman who I have found myself wishing to know more about.¡± ¡°Kay. Gonna tell her the feeling is mutual. What about that fianc¨¦e of yours? Or are you just going to engage in mutually assured homewrecking?¡± Calaf stammered about. His mind was still running over the last years¡¯ worth of interactions with Deaconess Charlotte. She was always pious, but so was he. What he¡¯d long suspected and recently confirmed with Karol, though¡­ went beyond piousness into fanaticism. Or, perhaps, to be pious was, ultimately, to be a fanatic. ¡°Heh. Already planning to break up so you can fall into a bunk with Hoss, huh?¡± ¡°It is not that.¡± Calaf¡¯s face grew redder. ¡°How does Enkidu ever tolerate you? You must grate on his sensibilities something awful.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think he does.¡± Zilara/Zelda chuckled. Deacon returned to Calaf¡¯s pew. ¡°Hello, child. Do you have parents in town? If not, we can arrange a caravan to escort you to any town on the route.¡± Zilara shrugged. ¡°My caretakers will come pick me up eventually.¡± ¡°Now, Squire Calaf, I have a personal request.¡± Deacon rested his hands in his lap. ¡°Did you find any trace of Barbara¡¯s poor coworker? Marianne, per her interface.¡± ¡°Dead, long before we got there. Her body was immolated.¡± Calaf let out a sigh, fatigue catching up to him. ¡°Pity.¡± Deacon exhaled, deflated. ¡°I feel responsible, for she was plucked right from the reliquary hall. Why, it was as if she were led in there to the slaughter. The poor dear. She was one of our most faithful congregants.¡± Zilara got to scanning the room, peering into everyone¡¯s Interfaces. She frowned. ¡°Hmmm. That one over there.¡± Zilara pointed at an assistant deacon near the stained glass. ¡°He¡¯s got spoofing rings¡­¡±
Name: Deacon Jeb
Rank: Seer
Level 33
Status: 90/90 (Austere and Pious)
Interim Pryor Deacon ignored her at first. But assistant Jeb only stood there. ¡°Yeah. Level spoofing. It¡¯s affecting his HP.¡± Jeb tilted his head at an unnatural angle. Only then did Zilara get the pryor¡¯s attention. ¡°Junior Deacon Jeb?¡± The spoofing assistant Deacon¡¯s hand exploded into a tangled morass of vines. It sent his spoofing rings flying, revealing the true self:
Name: Deacon Jeb
Rank: Seer
Level 33
Status: -458/90 (Dead)
The web of tendrils caught two unassuming assistant deacons in its embrace. Another vine caught Zilara by her ankle and lifted her upside down into the air. Immediately, the church guards closed in, spears drawn. Calaf and Deacon jumped to their feet as well. ¡°You can see me. But I can see what you truly are as well,¡± Deacon Jeb spoke with that same deep-throated growl as all the other repurposed corpses. ¡°You will be a useful addition to the collection.¡± A shot ran out, fraying some of the tendrils and breaking the stained glass beyond. The rot shirked away from direct sunlight as it streamed into the church. ¡°No sudden movements.¡± Jelena arrived; firearm drawn. ¡°Next shot is incendiary.¡± Maybe it was a bluff. Maybe not. The entity did not care. ¡°I know of you,¡± it said. ¡°You have gifted me many specimens in your long and storied career.¡± ¡°What is your plan?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°Explode into tentacles in the middle of a cathedral? What, kidnap the kid? She¡¯s ours. Tendrils off.¡± Jeb approximated something approaching a smile. ¡°There is no plan but to spread and-¡± A fireball interrupted the proceedings, courtesy of Zilara. She held her palm out and summoned another:
Zelda, Unassuming Child Casts:
Spell: Basic Fireball
Effect: Launches a simple fireball.
Description: Used for lighting torches and occasionally nailing dire-rats. ¡°See, you just point and cast. It¡¯s simple.¡±
Another palm-sized mote of fire flew from Zilara¡¯s hands towards the converted deacon. Fire grew high as the dried-out corpse lit up like a torch. ¡°Fire is a weakness of mine,¡± said the entity. ¡°But all life inevitably ends in my hands. Your church cannot stifle the spark of life unbridled forever.¡± A third fireball severed the tendrils holding Zilara up. Enkidu rushed forward to catch her. All the while, Deacon stepped forward to confront his long-dead former assistant. ¡°I am a timeless-¡± the entity began.
Deacon, Interim Pryor Casts:
Spell: Greater Holy Smite
Effect: Violently Cleanse all Impurities
Description: Expunges all things unholy. ¡°Huh. A repurposed demon spell. Curious.¡±
A shockwave of pure force burst out from Deacon¡¯s position. As it washed over Jeb, the corpse and rot both was utterly disintegrated.
¡°That was...¡± Deacon¡¯s voice gave out, short of breath. ¡°¡­ Something most unholy.¡± ¡°You think?¡± Jelena asked. Threat gone, the guards swiftly surrounded Jelena¡¯s party. ¡°Stand down,¡± Deacon ordered. ¡°Sir, this pair matches the description of infamous relic thieves,¡± said a guard. ¡°Let them pass,¡± Deacon said, more sternly this time. ¡°We owe them that much.¡± ¡°But sir, they came from near the reliquary. They could have stolen something even now.¡± ¡°I will personally give them candlesticks and scones from the pryor¡¯s quarters if they wish to get their hands on church property,¡± said Deacon. ¡°For their deeds in the aqueducts, it is the least we can do. Let them go, and give them free access to leave the city.¡± Jelena smiled and then sent Calaf a glance. ¡°Hey, that¡¯s the one what saved us!¡± Mal said. ¡°Barb says she saved her too. You want to throw her in jail? You gotta go through me.¡± Deacon raised his hands, urging peace and parlay. He looked at Zilara, still being carried by Enkidu. ¡°You are this young woman¡¯s caretakers?¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°We¡¯re on babysitter duty, yeah.¡± ¡°Now, wayward child, I must ask: why did you help us?¡± Deacon gazed at the trio, concerned and wary. ¡°The survivors said your aid was invaluable.¡± ¡°Doin¡¯ my good deed for the day.¡± Jelena shrugged. Calaf chuckled despite himself. ¡°We kind of just got caught up in the proceedings. We were down there for our own, ah, reasons. Anyway, all turned out for the best in the end, eh?¡± Jelena mock-washed her hands of the whole mess. ¡°So it did,¡± Deacon said. Small cinders still burned near the podium. ¡°The arbiters will need to secure the sewers,¡± Deacon added. ¡°Ah, maybe even the entire town.¡± ¡°Good. Send all four of them down there. They¡¯ll be busy all year.¡± Jelena smiled, self-satisfied. ¡°C¡¯mon, Enkidu. Let¡¯s get out of here before these church dogs change their mind.¡± The posse of relic thieves left the cathedral. Jelena was hamming it up a bit to fit her infamous persona, but she continued to smile when looking at her favorite, personal church dog. ¡°See you around?¡± Jelena said as she passed. ¡°Hopefully.¡± Calaf nodded.
Chapter Sixty-Six: Slaying the Bobbitt-Wyrm
¡°Ay, we don¡¯t have any of these fungus monsters back home,¡± Mal said once the worship hall had quieted down. ¡°Got a ship with no crew and the captain¡¯s probably down there eatin¡¯ brains still. Goanna sell the boat, buy passage back home for me, Barb and the kids, I will!¡± Barbara seemed receptive, so long as she got to stay with Mal. She hadn¡¯t left his side since he barged in. ¡°Deacon, what was that thing?¡± Calaf asked. The interim Pryor shook his head. ¡°I truly do not know. There are church rituals for purification and the like. Extensive instructions regarding how to dress the dead for consecration. They¡¯ve been in use since before the Demon Age. It¡¯s possible¡­¡± Pryor Deacon stopped talking, deep in thought. ¡°Where could I find these church records?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Deepwood, where all church records are stored.¡± Deacon nodded. ¡°The grand cathedral at the end of the line, perhaps, but that¡¯s seldom open to the public. Deepwood is closest and likeliest.¡± Calaf smiled. ¡°I was heading there already.¡± ¡°Arbiters have already been summoned. They¡¯ll be here within twenty-four hours. If your friend hasn¡¯t left town already, I recommend warning her.¡± ¡°F-friend?¡± Calaf tried acting natural. ¡°The relic thief? I¡¯m sure they¡¯re far from here by now.¡± Rather than pressing, Deacon gave a knowing nod. ¡°If you are heading through Deepwood, may I request you visit the archives?¡± ¡°I was going to check a few things while I was out there.¡± Calaf nodded. Deacon looked this way and that as if checking over his shoulder. ¡°While there, if you would please find what you can of, ¡°The Spark of Life Unbridled.¡± Again, Deacon paused and checked around as if this conversation was potentially being overheard. But they were alone at the front door of the cathedral. ¡°That¡¯s the phrase that repurposed assistant deacon referred to him¡­ itself by?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Indeed. You may have to be quite thorough in your search. But if you find anything, just pass it on to me. A simple letter will suffice.¡± Calaf made his leave. On his way out of town, he couldn¡¯t help but notice a significant procession building near the north gate. Three of four church hunters marched down the street. Drawing this many in one place in peacetime was sure to draw a crowd. And crowd the good locals of Port Town did, cheering, glad they¡¯d soon be able to venture out after dark these days. ¡°By the Interface, it¡¯s General Perarde!¡± cried a maid. ¡°Heck, that means something really bad is lurking in the alleys at night!¡± said another. ¡°Still, with the Hammer of Faith here no problem¡¯s going to last for long.¡± None would know the deeds that Calaf, Jelena, Enkidu, Zilara, the dozens of nameless sailors from foreign lands, and especially Karol had accomplished the night before. Well, Deacon would know. Barbara would know, certainly, Mal would tell all who would listen. But their accomplishments would pale in an instant to the famous arbiters who came to clean up afterwards. By name recognition alone they would hog all the glory. Still, virtue was its own reward. Calaf had saved lives, and he was gradually weaning himself off the adoration of crowds or the dictates of chivalry. Calaf left quietly out the eastern gate, Plains Junction-bound.
Another day¡¯s walk brought him to the edge of the great plains. In a lax season such as this, the ferries were easily conscripted without much of a wait. Calaf was becoming quite adept at traveling the pilgrimage route. No beast of the river Delta was of any threat at this level. He marched on the slow but steady route down to Plains Junction. The town appeared far in the distance like a mirage and grew steadily closer. After a half-day travel, the town was still visible. Such was life on the plains. This was Leggy Lizard territory. The corpse of the legendary monster was found, pre-looted, near a rocky outcropping. Someone had beaten Calaf to this prize. Not that the lizard would¡¯ve been much of a threat to the Squire. Instead, Calaf stood on a rocky outcropping and got his bearings. It would be another quarter of a day before he was in Plains Junction. Calaf got to thinking about his parents, themselves born Under the Menu. Many years prior the pair of initiates had left their child in the Riverglen Cathedral''s care while they attended their holy pilgrimage. The pair never returned. It was perhaps a common fate for low-level initiates on the pilgrimage. Certainly, for those who strayed off the path, danger did not always summon a higher-level helper to rescue them. Perhaps this is why all those pilgrims of low regard out in the hinterlands had turned to level-spoofing cultivation so easily. Things were dangerous off the trail. Were they out here, somewhere? Bleached along the side of the road? That thing in the Port Town sewers claimed it knew them, dead somewhere in the plains. Perhaps the one fate worse than being a pair of bones forgotten off the roadside. Just entertaining the thought brought a shiver up Calaf¡¯s spine. The chill grew so bad his Interface shuddered, then quickly reestablished itself. He refocused on something, anything but that fetid entity. Over on the western horizon, however, he couldn¡¯t help but notice a great whirlwind. Huh. That should be near the lakebed, Calaf thought. Calaf compared his route to the junction with a detour over to the lakebed. At this rate, he¡¯d be in town before sundown either way. Spear and Shield in hand, Calaf took off to the west.
A great alliance of six full parties was doing battle against a familiar legendary monster¡­
Name: Dire-Worm
Rank: Legendary Beast, Beast
Level: 46
Status: 1642/1706 HP
The great dire-worm of the plains whirled about, kicking up a miniature whirlwind of dust and sand as it assumed a defensive stance amidst the dried-out lakebed. ¡°Where¡¯s our paladin!?¡± cried a level-thirty-something Trailblazer. ¡°We still have our Cleric!¡± cried a lower-rank Stalwart-type. ¡°Stick to the plan. Keep healing and providing barriers!¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. A Cleric of higher rank than the other alliance members stood on a raised mound above the dried-out lakebed¡­.
Name: Iodem, Cleric for Hire
Rank: Cleric
Level 59
Status: 450/450 (In Over His Head)
The great dire-worm swung its eyeless, mandible-snapping head over to the Cleric and let out a sludge-spewing artillery barrage.
Special Technique: Bile Spew Effect: Barf up refuse, filling the immediate surroundings with toxic sludge.
As it was before, the empty lake-bed was covered in purplish sludge that radiated fell and debilitating status effects. A clump of bile landed right on the Cleric, producing immediate dire effects:
Name: Iodem, Cleric for Hire
Rank: Cleric
Level 59
Status: 350/450 (Bobbit Venom!)
Health ticked down in fifty-HP chunks, every half second. Well before Calaf or anyone else on the field could cast any healing or poison-cleansing spells, the poor Cleric¡¯s status wound down to zero. Iodem, Cleric for Hire, did not so much fall to the ground dead as he melted down into himself. Like a puddle. Purple ooze leaked from a hollowed-out body. ¡°It ate our tank!¡± cried a level twenty-five. ¡°Our healer is down!¡± ¡°Power levelers are gone. Everyone flee to town!¡± said another, around level thirty. ¡°Flee!¡± ¡°We only need to outrun the slowest member of the group!¡± Calaf ensured his grip on his hand-me-down Shield of Fireproofing was tight. The shield did not have perfect poison resistance, but it should keep that thing¡¯s venomous mandibles at bay. He need only dodge the bile-spewing slag attack. Where before the dire-worms of this lakebed had been a daunting foe in the distance on that initial walk into Plains Junction, now Calaf had several levels on the beast. A level delta had not been enough to save Iodem, but Clerics didn¡¯t have Calaf¡¯s Endurance or a shielder¡¯s skillset. Calaf ran up to the hill where that healer had met his end. Time for his good deed for the day. For chivalry, yes, but also for his own sake. ¡°Rally around me!¡± he told the fleeing level thirties and twenties.
Calaf stood at the site of the dire-worm¡¯s last hapless victim, spear and shield both out in a vicious, mocking pose. The dire-worm had no eyes, but it sensed its surroundings all the same. Curled up in a spiraling mound, the worm reared back, tendrils snapping, and it surged forward. Sheer force and mass from the blow pushed Calaf back, but his guard held Two snapping, venom-dripping incisors failed to get around the massive tower shield. He poked at the creature¡¯s feeling antenna with the spear in his offhand, dealing scratch damage to the HP pool in the thousands. The fleeing alliance turned around. ¡°Target its back end.¡± Calaf¡¯s feet slid, and he steeled himself. ¡°And the points between its segments!¡± There ought to be a weak point, not unlike those gargantuan golden dire-spiders of the desert. Focusing on those points should do far more damage than just hacking away at this gargantuan worm with basic axes and swords. A party of Trailblazers maneuvered around the beast while it was distracted. They began their usual Scout-path sneak attacks and techniques on the unguarded side while the beast was busy trying to eat Calaf. They got a good hundred HP off the creature before a second mouth popped out the back end of it, grabbed the lead party member in its powerful pincers, and ate him in one gulp. ¡°It¡¯s got a mouth on the backside too!¡± Calaf continued to poke at the creature with his spear, doing whatever damage he could and looking for a weak point. At least with the thing¡¯s (main?) mouth wrapped around his shield, it wasn¡¯t about to go running off toward his much weaker allies. Parties in this alliance were arranged by class. Four parties were made up entirely of mages and clerical-types ¨C ranged damage dealers. A fifth was made entirely of Scout-type bow and knife wielders thereabouts level thirty. A sixth party was more balanced between tank, melee, and healers. It had been anchored around a level 64 Paladin and Cleric Iodem, now in the dire-worm¡¯s stomach and melted on the ground, respectively. That left Calaf to fill the gap for both. He cast his AoE protection spell, Tautological Defense, to grant some buffer to his squishy, under-leveled comrades. Immediately thereafter the tug on his shield ended and Calaf stumbled back another three steps before adopting a renewed defensive stance. The dire-worm reared up in a now-familiar prelude to its bile-spewing attack. ¡°Clear the lakebed!¡± Calaf said. ¡°Stay well away from the edge, it has deceptive range!¡± ¡°Are you sure you know how to kill this thing?¡± asked a party member, a cleric. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it done. You need to sever it at the joints in its segments.¡± Over by the shore of the long-dead lake, one of the mages went to retrieve Iodem¡¯s gear. ¡°Wait!¡± Calaf cried. He rushed forward, holding his shield out to protect the Cleric as a hail of purple slag rained everywhere. ¡°I should have just enough INT to use his catalyst. I can keep us healed!¡± said the nameless mage of no renown. ¡°How did you get that much intelligence as a non-healer class?¡± Calaf¡¯s shield kept them both in shadow as the toxic rain died down. ¡°Uh, cultivation.¡± The mage averted their eyes. ¡°Over by the Battletower, there was this merchant¡­¡± Apostasy. Good. Not for the first time, Calaf turned to that old axiom: what would Jelena do in this situation? Well, whatever she needed to win, verily. Calaf chewed on his tongue, then swallowed his pride. ¡°Great. Well, if it gets the job done.¡± The unimportant mage looted that catalyst from their dead power-leveler. ¡°Ready!¡± ¡°Get back,¡± Calaf warned. ¡°It¡¯s going to charge again. I¡¯ll draw it off.¡±
The worm angled both ends of its armored form towards Calaf. He still had its attention. Good. Shield up, Calaf stood his ground. One mouth slammed against it, then another. The Squire held his ground even as that ground itself was pushed back by the worm¡¯s twin maws acting as massive shovels, excavating entire tracks of the lakebed. There was scarcely an opportunity to strike back with his spear under this barrage, for what good it would do. Instead, those mages and clerics gathered in the wings, preparing a flurry of mid-level fireballs and lightning bolts. ¡°Wait for it to rear up, that¡¯ll expose its underbelly!¡± Calaf said. Sure enough, the creature reared up, bile ready. A sea of flame and lighting struck the beast below the maw, forcing the creature to abort its attack. Calaf smiled. They¡¯d figured out its pattern! Celebration proved premature, as the dire-worm''s back end reached out for Calaf with a quick jab. The shield blocked its venomous teeth, but the blow sent Calaf to one knee, off balance. The dire-worm¡¯s front rushed at him, still dripping with Bobbit venom from its failed bile-spew. No time to dodge nor block! He could probably tank a single blow before healing would be needed, but that venom was another story. Calaf shut his eyes and looked away, only for the creature to bounce clear off a barrier that dissipated. That mage had cast a holy blessing upon him. It was a saving throw, salvaging the entire operation! Calaf gave the mage a nod and was back on his feet just in time to block another blow from the main mouth. Footing was not with Calaf, and this blow sent him tumbling like a Plains Junction weed on the wind. He collapsed to his hands and knees in the lakebed, amidst some recently upturned dirt.
From a distance, it looked as if the dried-up lake bed that this dire-worm called its nest was layered in fine white chalk. Close-up, however, this chalk was revealed to be chewed-up and digested bone dust coagulated into a thin gruel. Deep under the surface sat a layer of more intact bones. Dire-horses, yes, but also humans. Squire Calaf found himself face to face with a skeleton, its empty eyes whitewashed by decades in the elements. It gazed back at him, just as the entity claimed it watched the world go by through corpses. Just the thought caused Calaf¡¯s Interface to act up again. They could have been mirror images of each other, the Squire and this corpse. Thereabout the same height and build. The long-dead pilgrim stood in a crouching pose where the slag had melted him. A broken and gnawed-on right arm indicated where a basic and now-melted shield like those starting from Riverglen would¡¯ve carried. Held out in a vain attempt to defend against the worms. And behind this figure lay another skeleton, curled up. Her bones hollowed out where dire-worm larvae had consumed her from the inside. Calaf spotted the faint markings of a Menu Brand on the bones of this Stalwart-corpse¡¯s left wrist. Dead on the side of a random road in the plains. The entity¡¯s guttural gloating echoed through Calaf¡¯s mind. Again, his Interface buckled against the weight of his inner turmoil. His Brand-hand felt coarse ¨C as if burning, even as he held his shield in a death grip. Outside this excavated shallow grave, the sounds of battle continued. ¡°It¡¯s turning to face us. Everyone scatter! Flee! Flee for your lives!¡± Calaf shook his head. When he stopped, he was staring right into this skeleton¡¯s empty eyes. Immediately he was back in that negative headspace. But this time he was itching to murder. ¡°Hey!¡± Calaf, Disillusioned Wayfarer, emerged into the lakebed as the dire-worm finished up another bile-spewing barrage. ¡°Hey, you!¡±
Special Technique: Provoke Description: Draws all Enmity from the selected target onto the user for at least thirty seconds. Not recommended if you are injured.
Calaf had harnessed the most important of a Paladin¡¯s duties ¨C the ability to draw and maintain the enemy¡¯s ire. He held his spear out in mocking challenge, spittle flying from his lips as he let lose all manner of taunts. ¡°Yeah, you!¡± He bellowed whether the beast could understand him or not be damned. ¡°Who the hell do you take me for!? C¡¯mon! Hurry up and eat me. Come and have a go! Uglier things than you have tried!¡±
Name: Dire-Worm
Rank: Legendary Beast, Beast
Level: 46
Status: 1100/1706 HP
They weren¡¯t dead yet. This was a fight they could win. The worm¡¯s main head reared back to try and devour Calaf once more. It lunged, and Calaf lunged in response. With a renewed grip on his shield, Calaf held it like a battering ram. He leaped and, with a mighty thrust, rammed the shield bottom-first down the dire-worm¡¯s waiting gullet.
Chapter Sixty-Seven: Trisecting the Bobbit-Wyrm
Two barbed, girthy skewering jaws were blocked in the mighty dire-worm¡¯s throat, unable to reach out and devour Calaf as his shield-turned-battering ram was blocking the creature¡¯s esophagus! ¡°When it rears back, focus all attacks exactly one-third up its body!¡± Calaf ordered. ¡°That¡¯s where it¡¯s segmented. We can still do this!¡± Sure enough, the creature retracted its neck rather than try to force down something that did not want to go down without an inordinate struggle. Calaf was left with an acid-melted half of a shield, more of a stub. Good for parrying and little else. The worm reared up to spew digestive bile again¡­ and was struck by the full force of now less than twenty mid-level fireballs. The creature wobbled, and then its entire front-facing head snapped clear off! Magmalike sludge still lingered at the spot of its gaping wound.
Name: Dire-Worm
Rank: Legendary Beast, Beast
Level: 46
Status: 600/1706 HP (Decapitated)
¡°There we go!¡± Calaf cried. Still, the beast had more health than any other creature yet faced by the guard. ¡°Can we really kill it?¡± asked a Trailblazer. ¡°Come a long way since skewering dire-rats back in the sewers,¡± Calaf said. ¡°But same principle. Keep up the attack. Its second head doesn¡¯t hit half as hard!¡± The second head proved much more cautious in its weakened state. It took a defensive stance, only peeking out to try and see if it could reach out and eat easy prey from relative safety. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯re so close!¡± said one of the lower-level clerics. ¡°If we don¡¯t kill this thing, it¡¯ll all be for nothing.¡± Still on an adrenaline high, Calaf provoked the beast once more. Then, when it still didn¡¯t come out of its shell, Calaf ran up, spear in both hands and climbed the beast. He ran to where the creature¡¯s back ¡®head¡¯ would be and thrust his spear between two rocky plates. Calaf gave the spear a slow and grinding twist. The beast reared up to buck this parasite off its back. An opening! Another barrage of fire struck the beast between its primary plates. It wobbled, then the back third detached. Calaf rode the beast down as its HP drained to zero.
Three great segments of the dire-worm sat gathering dust in the riverbed. Calaf stood there, spear chipped with battle damage and shield mostly melted. He stashed both on slings beside him. ¡°Thank you so much!¡± said that quick-thinking mage who¡¯d pocketed Iodem¡¯s catalyst. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± ¡°You saved our lives,¡± said a Trailblazer, who then looked down, dejected ¡°Most of them.¡± ¡°Keep anything you want from this thing,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Burn the segments, and any other corpses here, if there¡¯s anything left of them. You don¡¯t want to leave them be with no way of getting back to a priest of consecration.¡± He¡¯d received a paltry amount of experience and gold. Not that he needed either. For the rest of the alliance, that experience had resulted in a level-up or even two. ¡°Who are you, stranger?¡± asked one of the party.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Just a Wayfarer,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Live around Riverglen.¡± Interface used to mention that. ¡°We did it!¡± ¡°Woo! That¡¯ll be enough gold to buy a whole new armor set over in Port Town!¡± ¡°Might even last us through the desert!¡± The parties celebrated as Calaf walked away. He stopped just before the ground began to rumble. Calaf turned. Two of the three segments of the legendary dire-worm ¨C the segments that still were connected to a head ¨C reared up. They let out twin roars, venom dripping from their maws.
Name: Dire-Worm (1 of 2)
Rank: Legendary Beast, Beast
Level: 46
Status: 569/1706 HP (Trifurcated)
Name: Dire-Worm (2 of 2)
Rank: Legendary Beast, Beast
Level: 46
Status: 569/1706 HP (Trifurcated)
¡°What!?¡± Calaf raised his spear and the half a shield he had left. He¡¯d ram it down another worm¡¯s throat or die trying. Rather than stay and fight, the pair of new dire-worms buried their heads in the dirt and got to digging. They ran off, the burnt-over back ends rapidly morphing into a fresh maw. ¡°Now what?¡± asked a Cleric. ¡°Now we get back to Plains Junction,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Tell the church there¡¯s two dire-worms about. They send an arbiter around every few months. He¡¯ll take care of it.¡± ¡°Should we even still be here!?¡± asked another Trailblazer. ¡°Relax.¡± Calaf put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°They won¡¯t attack again until their segments grow back. Probably.¡± Or maybe they¡¯d eat Walter next time. Who knew which option would be a better outcome? One final third of the great dire-worm writhed about on the lakebed. It was hard to retreat without any mouths. ¡°We should still burn this one entirely,¡± Calaf said. ¡°At least there won¡¯t be three running about.¡± The alliance trudged back East towards the Plains Junction once the middle third of the legendary monster was well and truly slain. All the digging from the now twin dire-worms had covered up a great deal of earth from the riverbed. Those two skeletons of the Shielder and Healer were buried once more. Calaf left his ruined shield ¨C the last legacy of Paladin Kai ¨C wedged into the sands on a mound atop the riverbed. Maybe someone could have use of what was left of it when fighting the legendary monster in this spot down the line. Maybe someone would finish the job and make one of the beasts choke on it.
Calaf walked back into town, armor scuffed, weapon dinged, and without a shield. He stopped by the cathedral to warn the church guards about the situation out by the lakebed. Walter would want to expedite his vermin extermination schedule. Task done, the Squire then went about checking in with traders and merchants for a new shield. He found something functional:
Item: Redstone Greatshield of the Desert Wastes (22000 gold) Description: A heavy stone great shield from the deserts of Firefield. Blocks all Physical, Poison, and lightning damage. Incredibly heavy. (Requires: 30 STR, 50 END)
That¡¯d do. He could surely find another way to use it as a battering ram again. He had the stats for it too and at his level range should more than be able to manage the weight. The Redstone Greenshield of the Desert Wastes was just wieldy enough for him to reasonably block one-handed and still strike with his spear. Duly, Calaf noted that both his weapon and shield were both from the desert. She¡¯s really rubbing off on me, Calaf thought, blushing for no other reason than Jelena¡¯s stupid, cocky, carefree face came to the front of his mind. He finished up his business in town by getting his Redstone Spear of the Desert Nomads reforged by a proper blacksmith. He was awarded a Redstone Spear of the Desert Nomads +3 for his trouble, with some extra poise and piercing force. He likewise had his armored repaired. Pricey upgrades, but he had the coin. The sun was low in the sky by the time he finished up. Calaf considered stopping by an inn. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s him!¡± ¡°Yeah, the guy who saved us back with the dire-worms.¡± Calaf couldn¡¯t help but notice he was being watched. Not by any prying eyes, but envious ones. ¡°Sir, good sir! They say you stood up against the worm single handedly!¡± ¡°Oh, me?¡± he asked. ¡°I had help.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you tanked single-handedly for a whole alliance!¡± ¡°Just doing my job,¡± Calaf said with a quick bow of his head. ¡°Wow! How can I be like you?¡± Calaf examined this fawning fan. They were barely level twenty, a Stalwart. A late-season pilgrimage-goer. ¡°It¡¯s just a matter of ranking up the levels. Gaining combat experience.¡± Calaf shrugged. He walked away, not used to adoring fans. ¡°You¡¯re a shining example for the church, good sir!¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sure.¡± It was an easy trip, uphill mind you, to Twelfthnight. Perhaps he would carry onward, get an inn there, recuperate for a day amidst the hot springs, and then head onward to Deepwood from there. Calaf carried on to the south, into the evening. On that day, his Menu designation was thus:
Name: Calaf, Disillusioned Wayfarer, Folk Hero.
Rank: Squire
Level: 42
Status: 155/155 (Brow Held High)
Finally, that ¡®Kiss Stealer¡¯ status had fallen off his Interface. The road sloped steadily upward. Calaf picked up the pace, more than capable of fighting anything on the short road between Plains Junction and Twelfthnight. It was a road well-traveled.
Chapter Sixty-Eight: Into the Woods
An unbranded pirate captain, body lousy with rot and fungal decay, slunk through the Port Town cisterns. Their numbers were culled, but only a single corpse was required to regrow the collection. Muffled voices echoed through the halls. Remnants of the collection were following, observing¡­ and being snuffed out, one by one. This ship captain¡¯s mind was long gone, given to the rot. Its repurposed cadaver moved like flowing water, seamlessly adapting to this new threat in the cistern. On some unseen signal, the captain¡¯s corpse rushed forward on all fours. This was the most expendable specimen of the collection. Its fetid master would sacrifice it to deliver a message. The captain leaped from a high outflow into a dried-up cistern. Broken nails and worn-to-bone fingers were out ahead of it, ready to gouge and tear anything within throttling range. Before the remains of this pirate captain could reach its target, however, it found itself surrounded by barriers along every joint and through every chest cavity. A million barriers burst at once, disintegrating the corpse and sending its head flying off at an odd arc to the cistern floor. Another barrier caught it and the pirate¡¯s head was left lopsided, staring at a pair through the dull gold sheen of a barrier. ¡°You.¡± Baldr scowled. ¡°You¡¯ve managed to overwrite Branding.¡± ¡°It was a matter of time,¡± Walter said, also scowling. ¡°Indeed it was,¡± the severed head spoke, though its vocal cords were disintegrated. The trio waited in the cistern at a bit of a stalemate. ¡°Purging every individual mushroom in this maze is hardly a viable use of our considerable skillsets.¡± Baldr sighed, then looked at the head with a gleam in his eyes. ¡°You could¡¯ve always sent some more of those dutiful church guards down to cleanse these channels of my corruption,¡± said the head. ¡°Then we would be called in some months later when the infestation is many times more dire.¡± The head managed something approaching a nod in its gilded cage. ¡°Something to that effect. Why, with rot spilling out into the town even at daylight hours, perhaps I would be able to fell even arbiters of your caliber.¡± The pair of church heavies only waited there, unimpressed. ¡°Not that there¡¯s much I can do with you lot,¡± the head continued. ¡°Not enough calcium in those carapaces, yes?¡± ¡°You¡¯re damn lucky we¡¯re out of earshot of any unwanted listeners,¡± Baldr said. ¡°Oh, you¡¯d have to purge them too?¡± the head chuckled. ¡°I can see you for what you truly are. Child of an old friend, yes?¡± Baldr looked away. ¡°I swear, we should make Perarde fight these battles. He¡¯s the one still upholding the old mission. What¡¯s it to me if the rot takes a town or two? Nothing this parasitic filth says or does will matter once the lord¡¯s will be done.¡± ¡°With the Brands subverted, it could put the whole project at risk,¡± Walter said. ¡°It was only a matter of time,¡± chuckled the head, its lips subtly shifting into a wicked grin. ¡°Your shackles could not save your cattle from the inevitable indefinitely.¡± Five Branded corpses, all with hit points well into the negative hundreds, leaped down into the cistern. They were instantly bifurcated by a flaming sword, courtesy of Walter. Baldr continued to look at the head, not evening flinching. ¡°Hmm. Using Branded corpses now? Its collection is running low.¡± The head roared; a booming voice barely muffled by the barrier. ¡°I am a timeless chorus! Decay is inevitable. All fates bend towards me. Even fire can only keep the rot at bay for so long. Decay shall outlive all things and all stars-¡± ¡°You should invest in fire spells,¡± Walter told Baldr, ignoring the rant. ¡°It¡¯s the most effective way to cleanse this infestation.¡± ¡°-Entropy made flesh! A ceaseless march to a universe entirely of rot, every breath your cattle-branded soul-slaves take leading them, albeit glacially, into my waiting embrace-¡± Baldr cracked a smile, still gazing down at the head. ¡°Oh, not the only way. Fire burns the rot away, yes. But you see, there will be no rot left¡­¡± ¡°-Even your Demon Lord¡¯s corpse shall be among my collection. I operate on a scale of eons! Waft deeply from this showcase of the inevitable fate of all thin-¡± The barrier shattered with a snap of Baldr¡¯s fingers, utterly disintegrating the head without a trace. ¡°¡­ if the infestation is destroyed down to its basest components. Like a scalpel versus a war axe. Savvy?¡± A gurgling cry sounded from every channel and entrance in the cistern. Corpses rushed through impossibly narrow crevasses. ¡°Well, back to work.¡± Baldr snapped some barriers into existence as he stepped back-to-back with Walter. ¡°Nice of them to come to us all at once!¡± Another repurposed corpse, belonging to a hapless lighthouse watchman, impaled itself upon Walter¡¯s sword, grabbing at the hilt even as its hands burned to try and slow down the swordsman¡¯s mobility.
Calaf awoke with a start. He couldn¡¯t recall what had startled him as soon as he lifted his head off the pillow. It felt like he was still back in the cisterns, though. He had to look about and remind himself he was safe in an inn two regions away. The Twelfthnight hot springs were as rejuvenating as ever, and wide-open for use with the pilgrimage season wound down. Calaf bathed amongst the springs for two days, wiping away layers of pilgrimage-route grime and general fatigue. Each morning, he woke up more refreshed than the previous day. It was a strange feeling, after so long on the road. By the third day of this, Calaf was ready to depart. He checked out of the inn and traveled on a westerly route. This was the last segment of the road between Riverglen and Autumn¡¯s Redoubt that Calaf had yet to travel. The trail continued to travel steadily upward into scenic alpine highlands hugging a jagged mountain range. Soon the pine trees grew so tall their tips could not be seen from their base and were grouped thick enough to serve as a perfect umbrella from the mountain¡¯s frequent rains. So thorough was the forest canopy that Calaf walked through a heavy storm for five hours before he noticed that the strange pitter-pattering sound was caused by droplets hitting the pine needles far above, not the frolicking of dire-squirrels. The deep woods here were well-tread, being one of the earliest and most heavily trafficked routes along the path. Frequent beastly encounters included those dire-squirrels (timid, harmless), dire-elk (travel about in herds, plenty of endurance but seldom threatening, a nice meal if you can fell one), and the odd dire-bear (smaller, black varieties, weaker cousins of more imposing Autumn¡¯s Redoubt brown dire-bears further up the path). None were particularly threatening to a pilgrim on their initiation, and positively harmless to at properly equipped Squire.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. All in all, the woods were a moderate difficulty increase from the tamer hills of Riverglen and its adjacent granite throughways. A way for travelers to hone their skills and increase their levels before the less forgiving plains and swamps ahead. This is to say, the return trip was uneventful. Even boring. After a day¡¯s travel through idyllic, red-barked pine woods, the tree line gave way to a high overlook. Below, in a natural valley between two peaks, was Deepwood. The holy city, where the earliest tenants of the church were carved into the trees themselves. Even buildings were carved into hollows within the mighty trunks. The Grand Cathedral at Deepwood and its holy archives were easily identifiable even from this distance. A great door was burnt into the largest tree in the grove, itself perfectly cultivated to grow large enough to fit all church offices and departments running up and down its trunk even while it continued to live and grow. The cliffside path was narrow, leading travelers on a half-day winding but steady route down the mountains and into the valley. For most pilgrims this would be the view leaving the city after spending a few days walking through its groves and contemplating the Cleric¡¯s teachings. Along the way, Calaf encountered a fork in the road. Well-maintained stone and brickwork split off on the left fork while a more unofficial dire-goat path continued into a glen on the right. This rightmost path would lead into the rough and tumble hinterlands, and from there back to the Battletower. It was rough terrain, but the paths were straight enough that it was arguably easiest to get to the tower from here and over the rocky hills and crags on the Twelfthnight route. The cliffside offered great acoustics such that the sounds of a scuffle were easily audible from down the rightmost path. There were shouts and the distinct clang of metal against metal. Once more, Calaf detoured to perform a good deed ¨C and assuage his conscience ¨C once more.
The dire-goat path evened out into a gravel path worn into a depression in the rock and dirt, just wide enough for a wagon to reasonably roll through. A glen in the woods was lined by the great red pines but otherwise represented a break in the trees. There, off to the right of the road, was a trio of bears, relatively beefy for the region.
Name: Black Dire-Bear (x3)
Rank: Beast
Level: 23
Status: 89/89
The trio was soon joined by another set of three, and then another. All converged on a central point. There, a lone swordsman sliced through dire-bear after dire-bear. It was Enkidu, identifiable by his wild sword-slinging technique as well as his complete lack of an Interface. Each swing sliced through his ursine opponents, even as the bears flooded into the glen by the dozen. Enkidu swung and sliced until it was done. Once the last dire-bear fell dead, another two figures crept up from out of some short grass. ¡°Good going, ¡®Kido!¡± said Jelena. Zilara, meanwhile, pondered a small dead spot bereft of ferns amidst the wooded glen. ¡°Keep it up. I think you¡¯re almost there,¡± said the holy child. ¡°You doing a commission?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Think there¡¯s someone in Deepwood that trades some church marquees of quest completion for twenty pristine bear hides.¡± Jelena¡¯s head turned on a swivel. Her smile grew wider as soon as she saw her erstwhile pursuer. ¡°Hey!¡± she waved warmly. Oh, by the Menu, she¡¯s glad to see me too. Calaf waved back and tried acting casual. ¡°Don¡¯t attack the animals!¡± the relic thief said. ¡°Let Enkidu kill ¡®em. If one goes after you just lead him over, do not fight back. We¡¯re testing something!¡± ¡°Oh¡­ okay?¡± Another dozen bears emerged from the far line of trees. Jelena beckoned Calaf over to their position. He snuck over, careful not to draw the ire of the beasts flowing into the glen, and fell in beside the pair. ¡°So, what¡¯s an upstanding gentleman such as yourself doing in a place like this?¡± Jelena asked, hand on her hip. Over on her other shoulder, Zilara let out a stifled but annoyed groaning sound. ¡°I see you made it out of Port Town okay,¡± he said. ¡°What are you doing with all these bears?¡± Enkidu sliced through another two dire-bears over in the center of the field. Jelena nodded. ¡°Zilara has access to all sorts of background System tools. We¡¯re using them to test out something I saw a long time ago.¡± An item waited, empty, on the ground in front of the pair:
Item: Dire-Bear Attractant (Strong) x1 Description: Summons bears. Excellent bait for hunting. Use with caution.
¡°Why?¡± Calaf asked. This tool could be useful as a leveling aide. But Enkidu possessed no levels. And they weren¡¯t in this for bear hides. ¡°Just watch!¡± Jelena grabbed his head and tilted it towards the battle. A particularly fearsome Silver-Maned Dire-Ursine, the highest-rank a bear was like to get to in these woods, fell, head rolling away, at Enkidu¡¯s feet. Still there was no experience to be gained or even items to collect. ¡°See anything?¡± asked Jelena. Calaf peered at the massacre site before him. ¡°What am I looking for?¡± he asked. ¡°It takes a while to form. Oh, there!¡± Zilara pointed behind Enkidu¡¯s shoulder. A reddish whisp not unlike smoke condensed into a solid, manifested out of the ground. It was translucent, curled back in on itself at the top like a question mark, and possessed an Interface designation:
Anomaly: Pandemonium Wisp Description: (Error! Descriptor Null!)
Zilara snickered. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s it exactly.¡± ¡°What¡­ is that?¡± Calaf approached cautiously. ¡°You two can see it?¡± Jelena squinted. ¡°I can¡¯t see anything at all. Must be specific to the Interface.¡± ¡°I also do not see anything,¡± said Enkidu. ¡°A Pandemonium Wisp,¡± Zilara said. ¡°So normally when a Branded defeats a non-branded foe, they get no gold for the kill, and experience points are dodgy. But when a non-branded entity kills something Branded, it¡¯s the exact opposite problem. All that experience has to flow somewhere, right?¡± Calaf had experience slaying the unbranded. The long route bypassing the forest through unchurched territory had seen Gorman and Calaf fight off numerous beasts sans a Brand. ¡°These Pandemonium Wisps are sort of a failsafe. Experience points, gold, and any items flow in here. It only becomes strong enough to show up if there¡¯s a mass slaying.¡± The whisp awaited, strangely static amidst the forest. Jelena rubbed her neck. ¡°So, this is what I found back in the day¡­¡± ¡°I first noticed these back in the cistern,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Too small to make themselves apparent as more than a small mote, though. I described it, and it meshed with something Hoss saw when she discovered angrier Hoss, here.¡± The group of four approached the wisp. Jelena and Enkidu continued to be unable to see the thing and so relied on Calaf and Zilara to guide them. ¡°Should we¡­ use it?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Let¡¯s go for it,¡± Zilara said. ¡°What¡¯s the worst that can happen?¡± Zilara reached out with her Interface and selected the Pandemonium Wisp.
Items:
Bear Hides (x28) Bear Asses (x24)
Gold x 5000 Experience: 6348
Experience, gold, and items flowed into their inventories. Calaf was perhaps three-fourths of the way to the next level. Zilara, however¡­ Level up!
Zilara Leveled Up! Level 27
Strength: 18 (+1)
Endurance: 16 (+1)
Agility: 20 (+1)
Intelligence: 25 (+2)
Charisma: 23 (+1)
Arcane: 28 (+3)
Luck: 26 (+2)
¡°Alright.¡± The holy child whistled. ¡°Check it out.¡± ¡°Good job,¡± Calaf said with a smile. That was an exceptionally good level-up for the twenties. It was rare for anyone to rank up in every stat. The wisp dissipated. Just another strange mystery of the System Interface. ¡°Good with kids?¡± Jelena twirled a lock of her curly hair, looking at Calaf. ¡°Oh, get a room,¡± Zilara said with a scowl. ¡°Or not,¡± Enkidu added. ¡°Just go do your business away from our eyes.¡± The group returned to pondering the area where the Pandemonium Wisp had once been. Grass had disintegrated where the wisp once stood, creating a minor dead zone in an otherwise fertile glen. ¡°Well.¡± Jelena rubbed her hands together. ¡°Not something I need to concern myself with anymore, I suppose. Maybe we¡¯ll find something about it in the church library?¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going there too?¡± Calaf said and realized too late they were probably there for a heist. ¡°Are you headed there?¡± Jelena asked, leaning towards the Squire. ¡°Wanna go together?¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Yes. I, ah, I mean, if you¡¯re there for lawful purposes, I mean.¡± ¡°Tourism,¡± Enkidu said simply. ¡°Just passing through,¡± Zilara added. ¡°That¡¯s not a lie, we are just going down there to take a look in the archives.¡± Jelena had one hand on her hip. ¡°For the record, the alibi is that I¡¯m an impoverished desert nomad, who lost my Brand and my faith in a freak oasis-side haberdashery accident.¡± ¡°What kind of accident?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter! Anyway, I¡¯ve come to the grand archives at Deepwood to try and rekindle my faith.¡± Jelena held out her hand. ¡°What do you say? Wanna stop by there together?¡± Calaf rolled his eyes, blushing. They were going to the same place, after all. It only made sense. ¡°Very well.¡± He took her hand. ¡°Until the archives, at least.¡± ¡°Glad to have you,¡± Jelena winked.
Chapter Sixty-Nine: Silence! In the Library
Deepwood was smaller than most of the major stations along the pilgrimage route. It was a city dedicated to church ecclesiastical offices, and they were chiseled into the trunks themselves. Groundside log cabins were rarer than the occasional treehouse high up in the smaller trees. ¡°Smaller¡± here was understating things; even the most diminutive tree within Deepwood¡¯s city limits was wider and taller than the largest oak in Riverglen. Even a single, red-barked mammoth surely contained more plant mass than every forest in the first among towns. This was the end of most laypeople¡¯s faith-mandated pilgrimage. On aesthetics and religious significance, the route saved the best for last. Religious strictures were carved into the bark around town and along the roads heading north and southwest. As they passed through the ceremonial stacked-log walls of Deepwood, Calaf spied one such etching into the bark above the gate:
Thus Spoke the Priestess, Commandment of Status Resistance:
[Effect Resistance = (.5* Endurance) * Defense + (1/Armor Poise)]
Mia, the Ancient Cleric of Yore and Holy Priestess who founded the Church, etched these formulas into the very bark of this unassuming grove. These were simple commandments, expanded upon by bishops and doctrinal councils through the centuries. Using this formula, Calaf could determine his Effect Resistance ¨C essential for Shielder-classes ¨C to the exact decimal point. The highest-level Paladins possessed enough Eff Res to tank all status effects! Alas, Calaf¡¯s calculations were foiled, for he was bad at math. There were descriptions of leveling stats classifications. Teachings on the nature of the Holy Menu and its purpose. Random exultations of faith and well-wishes. This holy town was the most direct window into Cleric Mia¡¯s mind during the time of the ancient heroes. The other heroes had fought their battles and disappeared into history without any public testament. It was no stretch to declare that these wood-engraved etchings were the foundation of the church! Scholars could spend centuries amidst the Deepwood groves, deciphering the Cleric¡¯s teachings. Many had, and new commandments were discovered and interpreted each pilgrimage season. Two Branded, one self-excommunicated apostate, and a brandless walking into town on the off-season would arouse suspicion. But Jelena had an elaborate alibi: noble Calaf and his niece were escorting a poor woman who¡¯d accidentally Scoured her brand in a haberdashery accident, alongside her foreign father from overseas. They¡¯d come to explore the tenets of the faith before a (re)-baptism. The relic thief was entrapping our Paladin-aspirant into a lie! Still, playing as eager converts would provide them with surefire access to the Cathedral of the Deepwood and its adjacent archives. Perhaps aiding the thief in this lie would help produce more noble ends, therefore upholding Calaf¡¯s chivalry.
The Cathedral of the Deepwood beckoned, its gargantuan trunk a commanding presence from every point in the forested valley. The tree that had been home to most of the Holy Priestess¡¯s etchings was a natural headquarters for the church in this region. Trained clerics had helped hollow the tree out while preserving its life and the legibility of the bark-engraved etchings as the tree continued to grow. Huh. Calaf pondered his surroundings as the group approached the wide-open hollow cathedral hall. Come to think of it, the church wastes no time in Branding every beast and dire-animal in the realm, but never plants. Was that possible? The answer was likely to be found within the cathedral library itself, located in an adjacent great-wood tree trunk accessible by some carved-out stairs and an interjoined branch. Church personnel waved them in; the church always was a sucker for willing convert sob stories. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to hang around,¡± Zilara said at the entranceway. ¡°Check out some of these carvings.¡± ¡°There¡¯s copies of every etching on parchment in the archives,¡± Calaf explained. Zilara shot him a piteous look. ¡°Getting impressions of the real thing will be more useful. There¡¯s more to gleam in the System metadata¡­¡± While everyone else pretended to know what ¡®metadata¡¯ was, Zilara stood there with her hands crossed. ¡°Very well. Enkidu, look after ¡®Zelda.¡¯¡± Jelena nodded towards their glamor-ring wearing charge. Enkidu grumbled his displeasure, and acceptance, of the command. ¡°My mission is the archives,¡± Calaf announced. ¡°I¡¯m going to take a look too,¡± Jelena said with a smile. ¡°What a coincidence.¡± Zilara snickered. ¡°Have fun, you two.¡± The group went their separate ways. Enkidu tried adding something but was poked in the ribs by Zilara¡¯s elbow and dragged off back outside. ¡°Well, they¡¯ll be out of my hair for a while,¡± Jelena said under her breath. Calaf looked to the relic thief. She had an expression on her face as if she was plotting something. ¡°Just what are you planning?¡± he asked, peerless. ¡°Oh, nothing.¡± Jelena hummed. ¡°Come on, before the cathedral guards get suspicious.¡±
The Deepwood Archives were open to the public outside of mass and ceremonial periods. They waited, preserved since antiquity, in the hollowed-out and petrified remains of the second-largest tree in the grove. The entrance was only available by carefully-cultivated branch pathways from the second floor of the cathedral proper. All the church¡¯s holy texts were stored in more permanent and accessible forms than bark carvings in rows upon rows of towering bookshelves. ¡°So, Hot Shot.¡± Jelena shot him a smile. ¡°I¡¯m headed to the demonology section. Wouldn¡¯t be surprised if its access has been restricted.¡± ¡°Restricted? How come?¡± Jelena chuckled. ¡°You poor na?ve little Squire. Just, go find us a quiet study table and start researching whatever it is you¡¯re looking for.¡± The ¡®ground¡¯ floor of the archive (though it was thereabouts five floors off the ground) covered the hollow from bark to bark. Hundreds of concentric circles along the floor were testament to the mighty tree¡¯s age before it had died. Dozens of other floors spanned the length of the trunk above them, mostly consisting of small balconies and walkways that spanned the hollow. ¡°Higher floors should be quieter,¡± Calaf muttered to himself. ¡°Try the third one.¡± Jelena winked, then turned and began to walk off. Calaf grabbed her hand. ¡°What¡¯re you planning?¡± he frowned. ¡°Trying to sneak off and raid the reliquary?¡± ¡°Perish the thought!¡± Jelena grinned at Calaf. ¡°That¡¯s down in the roots of the cathedral anyway. I¡¯ve been there before ¨C during my pilgrimage.¡± ¡°You have?¡± Calaf hadn¡¯t even visited the Deepwood reliquary during his brief initial pilgrimage. ¡°Yep. Worry not, there will be no relic thieving today.¡± Jelena skipped off as Calaf watched her go. What an interesting person. One he had the sudden compulsion to study in more detail¡­
Calaf found a secluded table on the third floor of the archives, then began gathering tomes from all publicly available floors. He collected a great stack of books and scrolls, far more than would fit in his Inventory. The excess sat on the table, forming a veritable wall on either side of the Squire. Hours passed with Calaf digging through the archives. Descriptions on each book helped him sort through things, though not even in the most promising tomes did he encounter anything dubbed ¡°the Spark of Life Unbridled.¡± In this way, his mission from Deacon was heading towards failure. The plan was to work his way through official accounts of early church history. This entity that had set up shop in the Port Town sewers possessed some conflict with the Interface. It was harder ¨C though not impossible ¨C for it to subvert Branded corpses. Little was known about the Holy Menu and its intricacies prior to its discovery in that scorpion nest far to the south by the ancient heroes. Perhaps the all-consuming rot was some force in opposition to its holy System? Instead of finding the slightest bit of info on this threat, Calaf found himself neck-deep in the minutiae of Branding protocol. Did you know that a pregnant woman who undergoes Branding will not pass the Interface on to already-conceived children naturally? An unconverted woman with a Branded partner would produce offspring Branded right out of the womb. Likewise, a converted woman with an unbranded partner would pass on the Brand via bloodline ties. Scoured Brands on either parent would not clear the Brand from children in utero, at least, though a Scoured parent could not pass on the brand to any newly-conceived children either. Obviously, the inheritable location of the brand would default to the branded parent in a ¡°mixed¡± marriage. But only in that specific scenario: an unconverted mother taking the Brand while pregnant, did the children require additional baptism. It was for this reason that missionaries were encouraged to apply the baptismal branding ceremony early, to maximize the spread of the Menu and its glory.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Calaf yawned. Fascinating stuff, but little that would shed light on why that entity that commands the rot would have a harder time subverting cadavers of the Branded. Still, the books piled higher. There were plenty of tomes speculating on the purpose of the Holy Menu, but surprisingly little about its origins. Scouring etiquette, though, there was plenty of that. Excommunicated heretics and the like were to have their Brand scoured ¨C by raking off sufficient layers of skin or tissue until the Interface became unusable. Or, if necessary, by simple amputation of the limb or offending body part. Either punishment to a Brand on the neck was ill-advised. Once excommunicated, the Menu and all church services were cut off to the Scoured subject. Inventories could be accessed only to summon items out, but nothing could be placed back in. All gold reserves therein were likewise cut off. Scourings by accident were appealable ¨C though a pious subject who lost their access to the Menu in a freak haberdashery accident ought to rush right to the cathedral to reapply a Brand, and therefore regain their inventory. To not do so was suspicious, evidence of self-excommunication, a far more dire crime. Calaf thought back to Jelena. She¡¯d taken out her very eye, losing access to any gold in her coffers, just to be rid of the Menu. For someone out to sustain herself through a life of crime, losing the free gold repository must¡¯ve been a massive sacrifice. Yet, she¡¯d judged the trade off worth it all the same. It was testament to her strong will and determination¡­ and there Calaf went, blushing at the thought of her again. He refocused. Even those with Scoured Brands maintained some marking of the System on their soul. It was a matter of much speculation whether these poor souls could be consecrated even without a working Brand. The exact nature of this soul-imprint was ambiguous, but the treatise confirmed repeatedly that these excommunicated were cast out from the System so long as their Brands were gone. Nothing on six floors full of church documents referenced any kind of rot or impurity at all. Just then, Calaf had an idea: he went to the seventh floor, the highest publicly available bookshelves, and returned to his nest with the most snooze-worthy church tomes of all. Proper Preparation and Burial Procedure of Deceased Faithful for the Coming Day of Glory. Authored by a barely known friar some three decades after the death of the Demon King. Within were hundreds upon hundreds of pages regarding how to properly consecrate a dead body for eventual resurrection in the Golden Era some unknown (but always far-off) distance into the future. There were protocols for Branding ill or infirm converts on their deathbeds. Care and maintenance of the church crypts. Crematory preparations if a proper consecration spell could not be implemented for whatever reason. And lastly, in the final volume of three, a description of the purpose and procedure for burning unconverted bodies ¨C or those who could not be commended to the crypts in time. Calaf hunched over the table, reading the tome manually as his Inventory was full. He even pulled up his Menu, its soft glow serving as an ersatz torchlight, to read by. Burning anyone who could not be consecrated, converted or otherwise, was of the utmost importance. ¡°To keep the rot at bay.¡± No further elaboration was provided. Calaf sighed. His mind was going numb, and he hadn¡¯t even addressed the massive pile of books on the table itself. So tired was he that he nearly missed a figure slinking up behind him. ¡°Found anything?¡± Jelena asked. Again, Calaf yawned. ¡°Ah, nothing but minutiae. What¡¯ve you found on your end?¡± ¡°Something big. Take a gander.¡± Jelena held forth a tome larger than most of the ones on the table. Jelena held the book open manually, sans Menu such that she was. Calaf observed the book via Interface:
Item: Scholar Goodfellow¡¯s Treatise on Demonology Description: A lengthy tome detailing all church teachings on Demons and the Demon King. Compiled approximately one century after the quest of the Ancient Heroes of Yore.
¡°Demonology?¡± Calaf arched an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah. Take a gander!¡± Jelena flipped to a specific page she¡¯d preserved with a folded page-tip. What Calaf saw, however, was¡­ ¡°It¡¯s¡­ fuzzy?¡± The page bled, as if the ink had melted off. White page and black text swirled together. ¡°What?¡± Jelena looked at the page again. ¡°It looks okay to me.¡± She angled it over for Calaf to see again, but once more he could not see a thing. ¡°Odd.¡± She checked the page again as if it was going to change when she didn¡¯t look at it. ¡°It sounds like it¡¯s scrambled specifically for Branded.¡± The pair looked at the page themselves and found they were looking at two very different views. Whatever the cause, it seemed to be a filter that prevented Branded from viewing sensitive church documentation. Regardless, Jelena narrated: ¡°Okay, so what I¡¯ve found is this: Templar. Noun. The highest tier of foe among the Demon King¡¯s ranks. The only form of Demon possessing a rare sense of autonomy beyond serving as a pawn of their Lord.¡± ¡°Templars? What other forms of demons do they have in there?¡± ¡°The first volume is a lengthy discussion of demon-types. Imps, Sentries, flying scouts, and so forth. They mostly correspond to our modern classes, oddly enough. But look at this.¡± Jelena flipped through a few more pages, until she reached a lengthy section that was ripped out at the seam. ¡°There¡¯s nothing there.¡± ¡°Exactly. It¡¯s been removed.¡± Jelena shut the book and scooted it over to the very edge of the study table. ¡°So not only have these pages been bewitched to prevent the converted from reading them, but more pages have also been removed wholesale. Which is fishy, right?¡± ¡°Where did you find this book?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Seventh floor. Highest before the restricted section.¡± The restricted section. A sealed-up eighth floor with scarcely even windows for ventilation. Only the most important, and most secure, books were stashed within. The only entrance was up a winding half-circular staircase from floor seven, always guarded by two level seventy-plus paladins. Calaf sighed. It sounded like the only way to proceed would be to access this extra, uber-restrictive archive. His temporary partner assumed he was still too noble to engage in breaking and entering the restricted section at this point. Likewise, there was no easy way past the guards without battle, no easy way back out either. Top all that off with the fact that there was no guarantee that the texts within were not also scrambled, and sneaking into the restricted section was likely more trouble than it was worth. With their plans dashed; Jelena pulled up a chair. ¡°C¡¯mon. Let¡¯s read through this collection you have here.¡± She pulled up a book. ¡°Church funerary practices? Good a place as ever to search for that weird plant monster.¡± ¡°It¡¯s more of a fungus¡­¡± Calaf managed, checking his own book via Interface.
The pair read for a bit, side by side. They reorganized the wall of books to form a near-perfect barrier between them and the world at large. Jelena¡¯s extra eye helped confirm there was nothing in the text that had been altered for those marked with the Menu. ¡°So.¡± Jelena let out a whistling exhale. ¡°Once you¡¯re back to Riverglen, got any plans?¡± Calaf, for his part, was buried in a tome on the earliest church history publicly available. The Menu did allow him to quick-look for ¡®rot¡¯ and ¡®life unbridled,¡¯ rapidly speeding up the search. ¡°May not stay for long,¡± he admitted. With the search for the origins of their fungal nemesis not going so well, Calaf found himself seeking out Scouring protocols and monastic regulations. These subjects proved even denser than the last, until¡­ ¡°The vow of silence,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ regular protocol.¡± ¡°Hmmm?¡± Jelena looked over. ¡°What is?¡± ¡°The monastery at Port Town. Metzger had dissidents forced into a special brand-augment that removed their ability to talk.¡± Calaf flipped through the book again to re-read the passage. ¡°It¡¯s common to all monasteries. Here in Deepwood, Riverglen¡­ it¡¯s standard protocol.¡± ¡°Japella wasn¡¯t large enough to have a monastery,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Did see some surprisingly quiet monks around the Firefield cathedral from time to time.¡± ¡°They¡¯re all dissidents. Attempted reformers.¡± Calaf¡¯s scanned the page to ensure his eyes did not deceive him. He pushed the book over so Jelena could see. ¡°Well,¡± she said under her breath. ¡°Even I did not know that.¡± Just another stack on the pile of things Calaf would have to confront Charlotte over, in time. Jelena scooted the books around to give them a wide, blank space on the table. There were a few fellow visitors to the library down on the second floor, but the third floor was quiet, intimate. ¡°I didn¡¯t leave the church due to some major blowup or revelation. Smashing the System was not my intent.¡± Jelena motioned to her eyepatch. ¡°Merely burnt out. Live for me and mine, now. Guess I¡¯m not the horribly apostate rebellious spirit you¡¯ve been searching for.¡± Jelena punctuated this with a weak smile. ¡°No, no. It¡¯s okay.¡± Their hands drifted closer. ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ surprised by you,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°While perhaps I said some things early on I¡¯ve come to regret¡­¡± ¡°Remember when you ambushed me in the hot springs? ¡®Stop right there, criminal scum!¡¯ - you said that a lot.¡± They chuckled, and Calaf¡¯s cheeks grew redder. ¡°Yes, yes. What I mean to say is¡­ I find you to have a fascinating story and would love to learn more about you.¡± Now Jelena¡¯s cheeks were a cozy shade darker than the rest of her face. ¡°I think that can be arranged,¡± she said with a smile.
Kiss-stealer! The most accursed status effect returned to its unwanted place next to Calaf¡¯s hit points. The Squire was too preoccupied to lament his lapse in discipline, busy as he was with Jelena occupying the same chair. Further research was on hold, as the pair found it much more productive to study each other. Their lips jostled about. His fiendish rival¡¯s tongue growing bolder as it snuck around in his mouth, dancing around his own. Yes, Calaf would have to learn that trick and pay it back tenfold. Long ago, Calaf would often fret about what to do with his hands. Now they traveled to their perfectly natural position on Jelena¡¯s hips, sliding along the hem of her tight and functional leather bodice. ¡°Mmm.¡± Jelena smacked her lips during a brief air-gasping interregnum. ¡°That Deaconess must¡¯ve taught you off-Menu.¡± Deaconess Charlotte was known to press the boundaries of Interface-appropriate premarital behavior, t¡¯was true. But just thinking of the Deaconess, her role in Karol¡¯s downfall as an assassin, and the multi-pronged highly uncomfortable conversation that was now overdue with his nominal fianc¨¦e left Calaf wanting to think of anything else. No sooner did Jelena mention the Deaconess than did Calaf press his lips up to hers with renewed vigor. Jelena let out a low hum of approval, having gotten Calaf frustrated and therefore worked up. She grabbed onto the Squire¡¯s chest piece and scooted up onto the desk. Calaf followed like their lips were opposing magnets. He wound up standing as Jelena¡¯s legs wrapped around his waist. In time the relic thief stopped and let Calaf¡¯s instincts let him continue kissing along her jaw, down her neck¡­ With a finger on Calaf¡¯s chin, Jelena laid down on the desk. She wound up sprawled out there, hidden from any prying onlookers by two flanking walls of books. Jelena gazed up at him, inviting, eyepatch affixed and dull brownish eye gazing upon his body coquettishly. ¡°It¡¯s more fun doin¡¯ it in equipment,¡± she said, finger beckoning. ¡°But you¡¯ll probably summon some librarians clanking around in that heavy armor.¡± Calaf chuckled despite himself. Wouldn¡¯t you know it, Jelena¡¯s belt buckle was already undone. Her corset had a few strings loose. How convenient! She used her legs, now wrapped around Calaf¡¯s waist, to pull him in closer. The good Squire¡¯s chastity was in danger. It was true. He briefly considered that it would be far easier to confront and formally call things off with his zealot (ex?)-fianc¨¦e if he wasn¡¯t sleeping around beforehand. Still, at Jelena¡¯s behest, Calaf clambered atop her while fumbling for his Interface. ¡°We¡¯re in a library¡­¡± he says, the weakest possible excuse. But Jelena shushed him with a finger to his lips. ¡°Being quiet happened to be my specialty back in the bordello,¡± she whispered, punctuating it with a hum. ¡°Clients always insisted on being exaggeratedly loud, but in the rare occasion someone wanted some silent fun, I was their girl.¡± Wordless, Calaf returned to kissing at Jelena¡¯s neck. Too far gone to worry about statuses or titles or appearances. Jelena hugged him around the shoulders. He still had to unequip all his armor... They were perfectly hidden here by the books. Nobody would catch them. They had plenty of time to get to know each other. Just then, Jelena hit Calaf¡¯s shoulder pauldron three times in quick succession. ¡°Up. Above up. Calaf, up!¡± Still, Calaf nibbled at her collarbone for a time, her shirt half-unbuttoned. ¡°Calaf, dodge. Dodge!¡± That broke Calaf out of his spell. He looked into Jelena¡¯s eye, which was looking past him to some shadow on the balcony above. No time to look behind him or even rise from their highly compromising position. The pair nodded, silent, to sync up their strategy without a word. Calaf rolled to his right, and Jelena rolled to hers. Books toppled as they shattered their own barricade. A fleet-of-foot figure in jet black robes landed on the desk, long knife jabbing through the wood. The desk and all remaining books collapsed in on themselves in the middle. Curiously, the collapse happened without any sound at all. The figure rose, silent. An Interface designation appeared:
Name: Diona, Forlorn Shade, Shadow of the Church Arbiters
Rank: Assassin
Level: 69
Status: 310/310 (Silent Step)
Weapons: - Twin Obsidian Mail Breakers (Requires Agility: 80) (x1) - Shrouded Armor of Night (Requires AGL: 75, Arcane: 40) (x1)
Chapter Seventy: Kerfuffle! In the Archives
¡°Oh, come on!¡± Jelena shout-whispered, ever mindful of their location in a library. ¡°I was so close! Church is always interfering with my love life, one way or another.¡± And I was so close to being known as a vow-breaker, Calaf thought. Being seconds away from a mortal blow proved clarifying, dragging the seduced and successfully succumbed-to-temptation Calaf back to reality. An unnaturally tall, vaguely feminine figure in body-obscuring robes stood between the would-be lovers. She readied twin daggers that would count as longswords on anyone else. ¡±It says she¡¯s a ¡®shadow of the arbiters,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Assassin class. Some offshoot of Scout or Thief?¡± ¡°Figures the assassination arbiter wouldn¡¯t be public facing,¡± Jelena muttered to herself, fiddling with her gear. Calaf drew his shield and spear, now fortunate that he hadn¡¯t had time to shed his armor. Over on the far side of this assassin, Jelena was mouthing something to him, silently: ¡°Keep her busy while I tighten my belt!¡± she mouthed. Huh, the Squire was growing exceptionally good at reading her lips. Maybe all that time kissing familiarized him with the contours of her mouth¡­ whatever the reason, Calaf steeled himself and readied her spear. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Calaf asked. Church arbiters were not on stab-on-sight basis with Calaf. At least not yet. This arbiter had jumped down from a bare section underneath the fourth-floor balcony. There was nothing there to possibly hold onto, only a bit of shadow where the lights streaming in through some open windows failed to illuminate. How much had she seen? Diona certainly knew that they¡¯d discussed the contents of the restricted section. Associating Calaf both with attempted archive-thievery and with aiding and abetting Jelena in other ways. Rather than take the bait and start talking, the assassin rushed forward, twin long knives out. Calaf blocked. No twin blows ever struck the shield. Instead, Diona¡¯s form melted down into a liquid shadow on the wall. The shadow zigged and zagged, skirting the desk, along the narrow shadow cast by some fallen books, and over into the wide-open shade cast by a hefty bookshelf. ¡°Behind you!¡± Jelena said, nearly battle-ready. Calaf turned his wide, lumbering shield, swinging it in a wide arc. His foe emerged, fully formed, out of a shadow behind his back. A knife struck his shoulder pauldron, which should have been more than enough to dissipate the blow. Instead, there was a sickening crack and Calaf stumbled back. He kept the shield swinging with his still-good arm. The wall of metal batted the attacker away; she was surprisingly light, flowing like liquid or smoke.
Name: Calaf, Refocused Wayfarer, Folk Hero.
Rank: Squire
Level: 42
Status: 89/155 (Kiss Stealer, Armor Rendered!)
¡°Gah!¡± Calaf stumbled back. ¡°It¡¯s like it pierced right through my defenses.¡± ¡°Calaf, drop your armor,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Before she comes in for another attack.¡± ¡°What? I¡¯ll have nothing between me and those knives.¡± ¡°She can pierce armor. Unequip it! Just trust me!¡± Hastily, Calaf fumbled through his Inventory and swapped out for a more basic, civilian garb. It offered little in the way of defense. Going up against an at-level monster in random traveler¡¯s garb would be dangerous. Even suicidal! Again, that shadow on the wall grew into a full person, knives drawn. This time, Calaf had better maneuverability to bring his shield around. One knife hit the shield, while another broke through Calaf¡¯s guard and struck his forearm not unlike that first mail-breaking blow. Only, this time, the pain proved more manageable.
Name: Calaf, Refocused Wayfarer, Folk Hero.
Status: 76/155 (Kiss Stealer, Combat hot-swapper!)
Still well off his footing, but the damage this time was negligible. ¡°Good thinking, Jelena!¡± he said. The relic thief rushed to his side. Knives were drawn; bodice laced up. Jelena was ready to go! ¡°I was a higher level than you before I Scoured the eye,¡± she said, standing back-to-back with him. ¡°I know my stuff, Hot Shot.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°That you do.¡± The pair shared a smile, then they were back to focusing on every shadow in the room. Their furtive church assassin could come from anywhere the light did not fully cover.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Be careful,¡± Calaf said. ¡°I have the Interface backing me up at least. A stab to your back will hurt regardless of armor rating.¡± Jelena frowned, but only just. ¡°I¡¯ve got more than enough skill to make up for it. For instance...¡± Another leap as their assassin dived from out near the base of a table leg. This time, Jelena¡¯s knife met Diona¡¯s, and she parried the assassin. ¡°See?¡± Jelena let out a triumphant ¡®ha!¡¯ sound. ¡°Her mail-breaker gimmick could take out some high-level dissidents if she ambushed them by surprise. But once you find out her tricks, she¡¯s probably the weaker of the church arbiters.¡± The pair circled, back-to-back, to no response from their would-be assassin. Calaf took the opportunity to heal up a good forty points. ¡°Didn¡¯t take the bait.¡± Jelena shrugged. ¡°Well, the fact that she¡¯s been lurking around the archives and tried whacking us unawares means we¡¯re at least onto something big, yeah?¡± Calaf saw a shadow to his right move. He turned to face it, only for two more to appear to his now-exposed left. There was more than one.
Name: Shannon, Forlorn Shade, Shadow of the Church Arbiters
Rank: Assassin
Level: 69
Name: Lindy, Forlorn Shade, Shadow of the Church Arbiters
Rank: Assassin
Level: 69
All wielded the same Twin Obsidian Mail Breakers. ¡°Count at least four on my end!¡± Jelena said. ¡°Some sort of body double ability? Cloning? Never seen it before.¡± "They all have different names." Calaf shook his head. "Guess you can''t see it. But they''re called Shadows of the Church Arbiters. What does that mean?" All the cutthroats leapt at once. No time to dodge or block. Instead, Calaf cast Flaming Sword of Faith. His spear lit ablaze. Shadows in the room shifted to accommodate this new light source. Nominally there were more, longer shadows for the assassin to work with ¨C but they were all situated well away from the spear-torch. What¡¯s more, the numerous shadow soldiers melted away under the light. ¡°There we go!¡± Jelena grabbed his shoulder. ¡°Head for the stairs, then make for a window!¡±
¡°No running in the library!¡± said a concerned librarian with a finger at their lips. Calaf and Jelena ran regardless, down one flight of stairs, then around the library balconies in a counterclockwise fashion, looking for an easy way out. ¡°And is that a flame!?¡± asked another librarian, flabbergasted. ¡°Pardon us, good sir!¡± Calaf rushed right past him. ¡°No fire spells in the library!¡± ¡°The whole building is made of wood!¡± Calaf held his fire-spear out over the balcony ledge. Spell-fire was clean all things considered. Few embers would fly off the tip down to the shelves below. ¡°These books contain hundreds of years of documentation,¡± said that same gobsmacked librarian. ¡°We¡¯ll be out soon, old man!¡± Jelena jeered. No signs of the assassins. It appeared Calaf¡¯s makeshift torch had saved their bacon once again. ¡°Don¡¯t bother with the stairs down to the first floor. Or with trying to make a break for the exit. It¡¯s the perfect chokepoint,¡± Jelena said as the pair ran. ¡°Where should we go?¡± ¡°Window.¡± Jelena pointed to a carved-out opening bereft of glass that they had a relatively straight shot for. ¡°Will this work?¡± Still dashing, Jelena nodded. ¡°I make note of escape routes in every building I walk into.¡± The pair made their approach. Calaf could see shadows gathering in his peripheral vision. ¡°Another advantage to swapping out your armor?¡± Jelena began. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Less fall damage! Now, jump!¡± With Jelena half-dragging Calaf along by the hand, the pair took a flying leap out of the wide window, itself a carve-out of the gargantuan tree. Maybe the church assassin reached out to grab them at the last minute, only narrowly missing their collars. It would¡¯ve looked more impressive that way, but Calaf did not look back to confirm. Instead, the pair flew, then fell, onto a tangled mass of tree branches carefully cultivated into walkways and stairwells. The pair fell about on top of each other, Calaf trying his best to shield Jelena from the fall but mostly just taking some paltry damage himself to unclear benefit to Jelena. ¡°Did great!¡± she said, hand batting his shoulder. ¡°Ah!¡± Calaf grimaced. That was the shoulder that had been injured in the church hunter¡¯s opening attack.
Enkidu was never hard to find, and indeed heard the commotion with his preternaturally good ears and rendezvoused with them back at ground level. The group of four was out of town within thirty minutes. They traveled south and west, along the path back to Riverglen. Night was spent at a campsite with ample light. They manually gathered wood and kept the fire going rather than trust an Interface-compatible party camp, which Calaf had some copies of thanks to his leftover campaign rations. ¡°Doubt we¡¯ll be pursued,¡± Zilara mused as the sun began to set. ¡°If some church cutthroat was guarding the archives just waiting for potential dissidents to even discuss verboten material, stands to reason they wouldn¡¯t leave those archives unguarded for long.¡± Fair enough. Even so, Enkidu would be keeping watch for the night. He settled into a quiet repose as the night advanced and the moon rose in a slender crescent. ¡°Dissidents, huh?¡± Calaf stared into the bonfire, kicking at some dirt as he sat on an oversized log. It was impossible to hide his name from that assassin in the Interface. Not without a spoofing ring. And he¡¯d been a little too preoccupied to equip any rings considering he was on top of Jelena with his lips buried in her neckline at the time of the attack. ¡°Hey.¡± Jelena gave his now-healed shoulder a supportive squeeze. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. So what if she blabs? Church arbiters have warrants out for Enkidu and I, dead or alive. Doesn¡¯t stop us from traveling unmolested. Mostly.¡± Jelena¡¯s eyepatch was off. She let her once-branded eye air out on occasion. So when she looked at Calaf warmly, it was with one eye a natural rusty red-brown, another scarred and with a purplish tint. ¡°T-thanks.¡± Calaf rested his hand atop hers. ¡°Still, it doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯m going to be able to maintain our¡­ d¨¦tente? And my good standing with the church simultaneously.¡± ¡°Is that what you¡¯d call it?¡± Jelena giggled. Calaf rolled his eyes. ¡°You know. Our¡­¡± ¡°Whatever this is?¡± Jelena nodded. ¡°Sure. I hear you.¡± The pair looked into the fire for some time. Jelena scooted a little closer. Then: ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask this for a bit. But¡­¡± Jelena took three quick breaths. Her Scoured eye was cloudy, with a scar running from her eyebrow to her cheekbone. The actual remaining utility in the eye was ambiguous, but it didn¡¯t seem out of focus and mostly followed her good eye. The faintest remnants of a Brand were still visible, partially milky but reflective in the firelight. ¡°Do you want to¡­ maybe?¡± Calaf leaned in. ¡°Hmm?¡± Jelena steepled her hands, glancing every which way. ¡°Maybe¡­ want to...¡± again, she exhaled. ¡°Travel with us? Like, together? Wherever we happen to go?¡± Over against a tree, Enkidu let out a neutral grunt. During a brief pause to process all that, Calaf breathed out sharply through his nose. ¡°Absolutely.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Jelena pumped both her fists. ¡°Yes. I was hoping.¡± ¡°But.¡± Again, Calaf breathed in. ¡°There is one thing I need to do first¡­¡±
Calaf went on to explain his purpose in heading back to Riverglen. He could not exactly just run off to into the arms of a wanted criminal wily-nilly. His nominal-fianc¨¦e was off manipulating wayward faithful and potentially administering a monastery full of muted, punished victims of the church back home. Even if he was on the church¡¯s hit list, even if he was rapidly growing beyond blind faith in the Interface and the Church of the Menu, there were some things he was honor-bound to do. Jelena Turandot took Calaf¡¯s explanation in stride. It helped that she was also a former sister of the church, surely. ¡°Go do what you have to.¡± She winked her Scoured eye. ¡°We¡¯ll wait for you north of Granite Pass. Keep farming those Pandemonium Wisps so Zilara can level up.¡± A great mental weight was lifted from Calaf¡¯s shoulders. Belatedly, he had the thought that maybe neither of them was the spurned party in this equation. His traveling companion seemed to sense his trepidation. ¡°Relax. Many things though I may be, homewrecker is not one of them. Go settle accounts, Hot Shot¡­¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Calaf said with a nod. ¡°That¡¯s the you I like, after all...¡± Jelena winked her bad eye once more. ¡°¡­ Hot Shot.¡±
Chapter Seventy-One: Most Faithful
Riverglen awaited down in a valley in the distance, visible from some of the higher overlooks south of Granite Pass. Calaf hadn¡¯t seen his hometown, the city of his birth, in many months now. He¡¯d left just before the pilgrimage season got underway and returned well after most lay pilgrims had already headed to their home stations. Even at this late stage, the trip was not without detours; Calaf had spared a visit to Vault, both to see how the newly converted town was getting along sans Deacon and to ponder the Flagon of the Scout. Vaultian dirt farmers adapted as well to the Menu as anyone. Before they would toil through the arid and infertile soil by hand or occasionally with the help of a wrangled dire-ox. Now, armed with Interface-compatible tools, they selected [Item] and then scrolled down to [Backhoe] or [Tiller] and then chose [Use]. Dry, simple, efficient. Labor-saving. The Flagon of the Scout was still behind stained and foggy glass. It was still in the same building, but the village pub had been converted into a rudimentary reliquary. Where before the filthy old cup was gawked at by curious yokels, now the converted knelt and prayed before the artifact. Even the flagon¡¯s Interface designation had changed:
Item: Holy Flagon of the Scout Description: A great and hearty mug of the Scout. Used for vital sustenance on the old heroes¡¯ journey. Essential for defeating the Demon King. An esteemed and holy relic of the Age of Heroes.
Calaf sighed. He observed the flagon now with more skeptical eyes. It had just been a conversation piece before. Interface-compatible primarily because it had been used by the Thief and/or Scout of the Ancient Heroes. The description had been embellished by interim deacons. Glamoured up, both to accentuate its holy significance and to lure in pilgrims to this auxiliary reliquary. Before, early in his journey, Calaf had thought his party was helping to integrate this hamlet into the world at large. Now, though, he was not so sure. It had benefits, yes, but
The detour to Vault had the added, arguably primary, benefit of allowing Calaf¡¯s ¡®kiss-stealer¡¯ status to drop off. He could return home with his guilty conscience, but no outward manifestation on his Brand visible to all. Jelena¡¯s party had parted ways at a fork in the road, headed northbound into the hinterlands. How they would meet again after all this was not quite clear. Finding Enkidu¡¯s next dire-beast massacre site ought not be too hard, and Jelena promised to stick around the greater Deepwood-Twelfthnight area for a few weeks still. And so, many months after leaving Riverglen around mid-Spring as a Shielder, Calaf returned to the first among towns as a Squire towards the opening weeks of Fall. It was as if the unpleasantness of the cathedral raid had never happened. Damage to the church¡¯s windows had been repaired. The side entrance along the town¡¯s wall remained collapsed. It would be a periphery goal, for few depended entirely on this specific entrance. Before doing anything else, Calaf stopped by the old sewer grating. It was locked up for the season, with Gorman nowhere to be found. Calaf let himself in with his Sewer Guard Key (x1). The sewer halls were quiet and empty. There wasn¡¯t even a single Rat King to be found, and the level 1 through 4 rats scurrying around fled rather than face the now level 42 Sewer Grate Guard. Yes, he¡¯d advanced so far along the leveling path that he was now overqualified for this job. Some new pair of Shielders would have to take the reins. In better times, Calaf would likely be promoted to a position within the Cathedral. Depending on the results of the conversation he was desperately delaying, it was unlikely he¡¯d be accepting any such role.
Next, Calaf approached the cathedral. It was quiet and serene in the off-season, with no mass planned for the evening. Rather than going straight to the church living quarters, Calaf went for a quiet cathedral cloister off in a western wing. Riverglen¡¯s monastery was among the smaller cloisters in the realm. True to the town¡¯s reputation, things were quiet here, with only a few dozen most-faithful monks (and nuns, across a segregated partition) tending to the grounds. They performed various tasks around the cathedral. It was meant to be a way for those of extraordinary faith to better devote themselves to the Interface and its Church. Now, though, Calaf wasn¡¯t so sure¡­ He took a few unassuming monks, always so quiet, aside. There, Calaf asked them some pointed questions. ¡°How did you come to join the cloister?¡± The monk communicated with some hand signals. Menu Basic Sign Language. MBSL was not a language Calaf was fluent in. But it did confirm his suspicions that the monastery was under a vow of silence. Calaf saw the monk¡¯s Brand on his neck and noted an extra, winding symbol. This stifled the other, more mundane parallel marks of the standard Brand, wrapping around them like kudzu. Just like in Port Town, this vow of silence was a binding one. With a frown, Calaf handed over a Plain Sheet of Monastic Parchment (x1) and accompanying Self-Inking Writing Quill (x1). With pen and parchment in hand, the monk was able to communicate with someone outside the cloister for the first time in who knows how long. Calaf received back a Monk¡¯s Written Testimony (x1). What it contained was this: Testimony of Uther, Pilgrim Originally from Granite¡¯s Pass, Aye, I¡¯ve been a monk here for forty-four years. Been unable to talk since shortly after my second pilgrimage. I came back here a few years and levels after my initiation pilgrimage to try a second trip down the path, maybe see if I could make it to Firefield this time. Only, this time I joined some sort of extra-ecclesial church study group. We were just supposed to walk the path together, like an alliance of a few parties. The leader was an iterant lay preacher. Everything he said seemed okay to me. Just about loving everyone and doing good deeds. Boilerplate stuff every Pryor along the way says. We made it to Plains Junction, then we were taken aside when we went to visit the reliquary. Some inquisitor types said that the movement was apostasy, that it was without approval of the ecclesial council and hereby banned.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Never did see that street preacher again, nor anyone else in the party. I was shipped down here, by sea so I didn¡¯t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone at home. Guess I should be lucky, that I at least get this chance to remain marked by the Menu. They could have Scoured me. It was a mercy, really. Bless the Church, for giving me this chance. ¡°Who did this?¡± Calaf traded the paper back. ¡°On whose orders?¡± Again, monk Uther wrote. Why, the good Pryor Yordan of course. You know him, right? The whole town does. He always checked the monastery, to ensure everyone was getting along right. Said we were lucky to be allowed this second chance through austerity and prayer. Calaf nodded, then tipped the monk some Sealed Flagons of Wine (x3) and some cheese as a tip of sorts. It was as he feared. Metzger Cross''s actions back in Port Town were corrupt only in that they were self-serving. Forcing dissidents and even clueless pilgrims into a life of monastic isolation, taking their voice, was official church policy. And his martyred foster father was an active participant. With a nod, Calaf took his leave. He returned to the cathedral¡¯s grand, empty hall. It was time for a most uncomfortable conversation that would serve as a crossroads for Calaf¡¯s entire life.
The upper floors of the Riverglen Cathedral ward were reserved for ranking church personnel. Even Calaf in his day had to make do with a small bunk in the guard quarters not far from his assigned sewer grate. The resident Deaconess, however, maintained a spacious suite in a modified belfry. Calaf found that her old suite had been assigned to another church bureaucrat brought in after the death of Pryor Yordan. Deaconess Charlotte had moved into the Pryor¡¯s older, even more spacious, rooms. The Pryor¡¯s suite was lined with stained glass that refracted all manner of light at all hours of the day. Not a single corner was in shadow, and candlelight was hardly necessary. Even on the night of a new moon, the stars were sufficient to give the room a fair glow to see by. Calaf knocked twice, then entered the room. The furniture at least maintained the church¡¯s austere and humble image. Everything was plain, unfurnished. Only the pane windows and a few fine curtains displayed extravagance common to the cathedral below. ¡°Welcome back, dear Calaf.¡± Charlotte was facing away from the door. She gazed out the windows, which offered a full three-sixty-degree view of Riverglen. ¡°What did you tell Karol?¡± Calaf asked immediately. ¡°It¡¯s been at least three weeks since we last met,¡± said Charlotte. ¡°And that¡¯s the first thing you ask? Who was this person again? The title seems quite familiar.¡± Charlotte turned. Her desk was covered in administrative documents. ¡°She¡¯s dead,¡± Calaf said. ¡°When we left the Battletower she had her Brand. But I met her again at Fort Duran.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. That one,¡± Charlotte said with a frown. ¡°When she came to the medical tent, she was distraught. I provided her with due guidance for how she could still serve the church.¡± The Deaconess¡¯s lips angled upwards as she recalled her treatment of Karol of the Olde Capital. ¡°You scoured her brand,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Well, yes.¡± Charlotte tilted her head, concerned. ¡°She was lost and distraught. She knew no other family. I simply offered her a path to continue to serve the church. Well, did it not work? Arbiters report that her mission was a success. Was she not able to eradicate heresy, as instructed?¡± Calaf bristled, memories of Cayo and Joan fresh in his mind. ¡°Her brand was Scoured. She was cut off from the Interface.¡± Charlotte nodded. ¡°Yes, I struck the Brand myself. All the better to infiltrate the heretical ranks, yes?¡± ¡°And she¡¯d come equipped with Nihilberries.¡± Calaf scowled. ¡°Who could have traded her those?¡± ¡°Ah, the better to avoid capture, yes?¡± Charlotte tilted her head, unable even to determine why Calaf was so upset. ¡°Surely death would be preferable to imprisonment and torture by those honorless, apostate fiends.¡± Midday sun turned the room into a technicolor kaleidoscope display. Charlotte¡¯s face was marked diagonally, descending left-right along the nose, green on the lower right, and a bluish tint on the upper left. ¡°She¡¯s dead,¡± Calaf said, louder than he meant. ¡°Dead. Fled from Fort Duran after assassinating a reformist bishop in cold blood. Then died trying, desperately, to achieve martyrdom.¡± ¡°Martyrdom?¡± Charlotte¡¯s soft smile contorted as if she was no longer able to recall Karol¡¯s face. ¡°Well, that¡¯s fortunate. For someone whose Brand has been Scoured, dying in service to the Church is the best they can hope for.¡± Calaf took two steps back. ¡°That¡¯s not¡­ You¡¯re the one who Scoured her Brand! She¡¯s denied consecration because of you, Charlotte! She needed help, and-¡± ¡°-and the Church needed an assassin,¡± Charlotte spoke as if admonishing a young initiate at Sunday school. ¡°What has gotten into you, my betrothed?¡± ¡°That innocent woman was promised internment in the crypts. She was promised resurrection.¡± Again, Charlotte frowned. ¡°The wants of any individual must be subservient to the needs of the Church. Why, without the church, there would be no crypts! What¡¯s one soul lost if it preserves the institution itself?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Calaf said, glancing away. ¡°What is this about, my love?¡± Charlotte¡¯s eyes narrowed. A faint blue glow penetrated Charlotte¡¯s Ornate Head Deaconess¡¯s Robe +2 (x1). The glow was matched in her eyes, temporarily winning out over the tint of the windowpanes. Charlotte read through Calaf¡¯s interface. When she didn¡¯t find anything, she searched through Calaf¡¯s history. Calaf let out a frustrated ¡®tsk¡¯, feeling all at once exposed. ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s it,¡± she said, The Interface was still open on his history of status effects and titles. ¡°You¡¯ve been influenced by her.¡± Jelena. Of course, the Deaconess would immediately make the connection. ¡°Charlotte, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Calaf clambered out. ¡°Given how we¡¯ve changed, I simply no longer feel that we can continue with this betrothal.¡± Plenty of people changed on the pilgrimage. Plenty of couples drifted apart. They were not yet wed. It ought not be a major scandal for the pair to go their separate ways.¡± ¡°Ah, yes, some degree of fooling around is inevitable on the pilgrimage route,¡± said Charlotte. ¡°It¡¯s why we have Firefield right where the level delta between pilgrim and dire-beast grows so wide, yes? So that lonely pilgrims can let off some steam, so far from their homes and loved ones. Everyone does it.¡± Calaf froze. ¡°Wait, what?¡± ¡°Well, I see no broken oath on your status, at least. So, you seem to have avoided the Firefield brothels at least. But it won¡¯t do to let you fall under her horrible, heretical influence. Not at all.¡± ¡°What do you mean, everyone does it?¡± Rather than continue an argument, Calaf pulled up Charlotte¡¯s Interface this time and began to root through her history. This was a common aspect of lovers¡¯ quarrels under the Menu. Charlotte¡¯s title and status histories were extensive, however, and before he could scroll through to her last pilgrimage, Charlotte countered with:
Charlotte, Deaconess Uses:
Special Technique: Charm (Enhanced)
Effect: Effect: 89% Base Chance of Putting Affected Target Under Your Influence Indefinitely (Resist Rolls Occur Once Daily at Midnight. (Req: 40 Intelligence, 69 Charisma, 80 Arcane)
Description: Renders target subservient to your will, wholly loyal, and madly in love until such time that the target is able to resist your influence. ¡°Controlling the masses. Keeping them in their place with the Lord¡¯s own shackles. How different are we from the king itself? Oh, Roland. This demonic miasma. I can no longer¡­¡±
¡°Wh-wha?¡± Calaf began. Resist! The Shielder''s prodigious effect resistance held true ¨C but only thus. He received the message in his Interface. Charlotte frowned, truly disappointed this time. ¡°Your Endurance has increased prodigiously over your journey. It¡¯s quite impressive.¡± Those stat requirements. A mere Cleric ought to have trouble gaining Charisma that high. To say nothing of the sky-high Arcane stat. ¡°Stay back.¡± Calaf took several steps towards the door. ¡°Let¡¯s try this again¡­¡± Again, Charlotte cast her Charm (Enhanced). This time, there was no ¡®Resist¡¯ message. Calaf¡¯s vision blurred, and the room began to spin. The ornate windows colored Charlotte¡¯s face in divine coloration like a depiction of the Holy Cleric of Yore. Calaf¡¯s interface changed.
Name: Calaf of Riverglen (Charlotte¡¯s)
Rank: Squire
Level: 42
Status: 155/155 (Amorous, Will Subverted!)
Deaconess Charlotte closed the distance with Calaf. She delivered a kiss to his lips, breaking off only for air. A line of spittle ran from Calaf¡¯s lips to her tongue. ¡°Much better.¡± Charlotte¡¯s smile returned. ¡°There we go. Can¡¯t have that vile seductress stealing away such a valuable asset to the church. Can we? Now, dear Calaf, let us spend the afternoon and evening discussing how best to utilize your relationship with this heretical relic thief for the good of the Church.¡± Calaf leaned forward and kissed his betrothed. No ¡®kiss-stealer¡¯ status appeared on his Interface, as his will was no longer his own.
Chapter Seventy-Two: Failed Seduction Saving Throw (Derogatory)
Another Pandemonium Wisp born from two-dozen dire-lycans brought Zilara up to level twenty-nine. Gains were diminishing. They¡¯d need to move further up the route to find more efficient hunting grounds. ¡°Okay, big guy. Let¡¯s stop for the day. We¡¯ll head back down towards the road and travel south to make camp. Hopefully, we can head back through the woods by week¡¯s end.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just trying to run into him, again, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Ah, I used to be subtle about this, didn¡¯t I?¡± Jelena asked with a smile. ¡°Indeed.¡± Jelena walked along a lightly wooded dire-goat path with an extra pep in her step. ¡°Just got a little something to look forward to.¡± The relic thief smiled. She¡¯d traveled for years with just droll old Enkidu for company. A heavenly lay, sure, but largely uninterested after that rollabout in the bordello. Their murderous relic thievery started as a way to make ends meet. It wasn¡¯t meant to be some grand rebellion against the church. Now, though, Jelena was gaining allies at a steady pace, and even uncovering a whiff of conspiracy to unearth. There was Zilara, the mysterious holy child. Twinbrands in her eyes had extra subtleties relative to the average faithful¡¯s Brand. No doubt a family heirloom, courtesy of being descended from the Cleric and Paladin. Old hymns said a pair of twins were cooking in the ¡®ol baby furnace when the Ancient Heroes (and their army of Branded rebel humans) toppled the Demon King. Conceiving children within spitting distance of that miasmatic font of all evil surely had unknown effects. Whatever ill omens that brought, they were diluted through the generations. Zilara was good traveling company, for a twelve-year-old. Spacey and constantly talking about odd things. Still, the holy brat reminded Jelena of the orphanage. And with proper spoofing rings, their ever-growing motley band would be able to hide Zilara from the church indefinitely. Maybe. Hopefully. That brought Jelena¡¯s thoughts, as always, back to Calaf. She¡¯d made inroads into that gruff and disciplined exterior. He seemed ready to cut things off with the church and pursue his own path. Could that path involve a life of crime with Jelena? Maybe! Many maybes factored into Jelena¡¯s future plans. Just probabilities and plan B¡¯s all the way down. Now, if only she could get her other traveling companions out of the way and get Calaf alone for one to two hours. Jelena had been thinking about best to crack open that particular dire-egg. The pilgrimage path possessed no shortage of romantic vistas. It was just a matter of rendezvousing again, then finding the most secluded lover¡¯s lane in whatever city they happened to be wandering through. It wasn¡¯t a matter of belling a dire-cat. Jelena Turandot was a literal expert in the art of seduction. Her grand plan to gain a new traveling companion and bunkmate just needed one last push.
The traveling trio camped by the side of the road between Granite¡¯s Pass and Deepwood for three days. They passed by caravans and even church-ordained convoys full of armed guards. None noticed the trio, neither did they stop or question them. Zilara was still in her ¡®Zelda¡¯ persona, but even an implacably tall wild man and a cyclops with a Scoured Brand failed to alert attention. Were the pair¡¯s wanted posters still up? Jelena was beginning to feel neglected. You go through all this effort to steal relics and establish a reputation as a gentlewoman thief, and the church just stops sending people to whack you! How insulting. Even that assassination arbiter only attacked because they¡¯d been smooching on her turf. Maybe I should shoot up another cathedral again, Jelena thought, hands behind her head. That¡¯ll aid in my infamy. On the third day, Enkidu spied a lone figure coming up the road from the south. ¡°There we go.¡± Jelena hummed, self-satisfied. ¡°Told you he¡¯d come back.¡± And so, they waited. On foot, the path was a slow but steady one. It was evening by the time a familiar Squire in heavy armor approached. Jelena walked onto the path and waved. Calaf approached at a joggling clip. He had an extra spring in his step. Jelena¡¯s heart grew a little warm as Calaf came into view. ¡°You made it,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Did you get everything sorted out?¡± The Squire nodded. ¡°Yes. Everything is in its place.¡± ¡°Good to know.¡± The relic thief smiled cowly. ¡°Hoss,¡± came a voice from near a rocky granite outcropping. It was a quiet, wispy sound wafting down on the wind. ¡°Hoss,¡± said the twangy voice, louder this time. ¡°Hoss, dodge. Dodge!¡± Jelena glanced to her left, angling so that her good eye could get a proper gander. Zilara was there, peeking out over a rock. ¡°You spying on us?¡± Jelena said with a grin. But Zilara only pointed at Calaf.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Charm. He¡¯s got a charm. Dodge!¡± Jelena contorted her spine into a circle as she dodged a jagged silver knife quick-drawn from Calaf¡¯s inventory. She swatted the blade away with one fluid motion of her steel-lined traveling boot. Then, she leaped back in an acrobatic summersault. Calaf remained still, his heavy armor restricting mobility. A Plain Silver Knife of Apostasy-Slaying (x1) sat in a death grip in Calaf¡¯s hand. ¡°He¡¯s got a charm!¡± Zilara said again. What Zilara could see, but Jelena could not, was Calaf¡¯s Interface title:
Name: Calaf of Riverglen (Charlotte¡¯s)
¡°So, you¡¯re saying the Deaconess cast charm on him?¡± Jelena said, still unarmed. Zilara nodded fervently. ¡°Yeah. Says it right there!¡± ¡°Good thing my reflexes are still top-notch.¡± Jelena bobbed side to side, limbering up. ¡°This is the age where you start getting back aches. Managed to dodge on instinct. Still got it~¡± ¡°For the glory of the Church and Deaconess Charlotte!¡± Calaf declared. Again, Calaf lunged with his knife. Once more, Jelena sidestepped it and put some distance between her neck and the assassin¡¯s implement through an acrobatic flip. No use trying to talk her would-be beau out of it. He was Charmed. It was a matter for the Interface, now. ¡°Hey, kid. What¡¯s the timer on the charm?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°It ain¡¯t got one.¡± Zilara shrugged. ¡°What?¡± Jelena circled around as Calaf chased after her with a knife. Charm seldom lasted for long. Why, Jelena recalled a similar incident long, long ago. He ought to snap out of it soon enough. The status effect was hardly useful for long-term assassination like that. It was a Charisma-based ¡®spell¡¯. More for getting store discounts than a useful battle technique. ¡°It has no timer! Must be some special church variant.¡± At least Charmed Calaf was focused on Jelena alone. Zilara remained on the rock, safe. ¡°Figures they¡¯d keep all the good tricks for themselves,¡± Jelena muttered. She stood her ground and, when Calaf lunged again, Jelena sidestepped and tried knocking the knife out of Calaf¡¯s hand. In this, she was unsuccessful. ¡°It¡¯s like it¡¯s glued to him,¡± she said. ¡°Stupid Interface Inventory. It¡¯s too hard to wrestle it away from him if he doesn¡¯t want me to.¡± ¡°Hey, Enkidu!¡± Zilara said. ¡°What, no, don¡¯t call him,¡± Jelena said, still dodging. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to hurt the poor guy.¡± A greenish blur dived over the rocky outcropping and down onto the road, cracking the stone pavement.
¡°Enkidu. Stand down. At least stash the sword!¡± ¡°The spearman has betrayed you,¡± Enkidu said, ancient blade pointing at Calaf threateningly. ¡°He¡¯s under a charm. That Deaconess must¡¯ve sent him back to try and kill us. No stabbing, no injuries that can¡¯t be healed.¡± ¡°If you insist.¡± Enkidu insisted. Calaf charged. The knife hit nothing but air. Enkidu¡¯s counterattack ¨C a mighty kick ¨C sent the Squire flying backward into a thorn-bearing shrubbery. ¡°Is that sufficient use of force?¡± asked the wild man. Calaf clambered about in the bush. Jelena looked at Zilara, who gave a thumbs up. ¡°Only scratch damage,¡± said the holy child. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Jelena let out a sigh. ¡°Just¡­ hold him still. I¡¯ve got an idea.¡± By the time Calaf clambered out of the bush, Enkidu was there to grab him and throw him to the road. The knife¡¯s stat requirements must be out of a standard Squire¡¯s range, He certainly was having trouble wielding it. Regardless, Enkidu held Calaf down and, with his prodigious strength, flung the knife forcibly out of his inventory. ¡°Unhand me. I have been tasked with slaying a vile heretic by the amazing and beautiful Deaconess Charlotte herself!¡± ¡°Just hold him still,¡± Jelena said, and approached. Well, Calaf was talking like he was back during their early encounters. He¡¯ll cringe once he¡¯s free, Jelena thought. She took her eyepatch off. This was going to be difficult, maybe impossible, sans Interface. But perhaps¡­ ¡°There, there, Hot Shot.¡± Jelena stopped four paces from Calaf¡¯s prone form. ¡°Sounds like your evil fianc¨¦e has put you under a charm. But¡­¡± Jelena closed her Scoured eye, moved her left hand up to her lips, and blew him a kiss. ¡°¡­ You were mine before you were hers.¡±
¡°Seems to be working, Hoss,¡± Zilara said. ¡°The Interface is swapping between ¡®Calaf (Charlotte¡¯s)¡¯ and ¡®Calaf (Jelena¡¯s)!¡¯¡± Only Zilara could see the internal changes occurring in the annals of the Interface. Only she could describe the effects to unbranded Jelena and Enkidu. For his part, their subverted Squire writhed about as Enkidu held him down. This ended with one loud groan. ¡°Good to go, Hoss.¡± Zilara held a thumbs up again. ¡°Charms have canceled out.¡± A church scholar would need to speak to the inner workings of competing Charm techniques. Zilara speculated that the combined effects were divided against the prodigious tank-class Effect Resistance, thereby rendering it easier for both statuses to be resisted. ¡°Surprised that worked without a Brand.¡± Jelena had a self-satisfied smirk on her face. ¡°Guess I¡¯ve still got it.¡± On Jelena¡¯s insistence, Enkidu laid off Calaf and stopped restraining him. The Shielder was left on his hands and knees with a dazed frown and eyes darting every which way. ¡°Where am I?¡± Calaf asked. There wasn¡¯t much tree cover or shade in the highlands. Before the Deepwood forests, it was just rocky crags and granite outcroppings. On Jelena¡¯s insistence, she and Enkidu helped Calaf to a grove of rocks. This way he could get some fresh air to catch his breath. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Jelena offered a hand. ¡°The last thing I remember I was walking into the Pryor¡¯s quarters.¡± ¡°Oh my. You¡¯ve been under Charm for days,¡± Jelena said. ¡°That¡¯s beyond anything the basic charm can do. I think mine maxed out at twelve minutes.¡± Memory would return in time. For now, they merely gave Calaf space. Since Zilara was the only member of the group that was Interface-compatible, she was the designated supplies carrier. She summoned Plain Canteens of Water (x4) from her inventory, and they shared some with Calaf. ¡°Who knew a random Deaconess would have such a powerful Charm ability?¡± Jelena wondered aloud. ¡°I feel guilty for letting you go by yourself, now.¡± ¡°Hmmm.¡± Zilara pulled up background Interface info. ¡°Sounds like memories should come back rapidly. It¡¯s just a temporary discombobulation.¡± ¡°Well, then, take your time.¡± Jelena offered a reassuring hand. ¡°C¡¯mon, you¡¯re safe now.¡± Slowly, Calaf explained everything that had happened since parting ways. He¡¯d arrived in Riverglen and investigated the local monastery. With his suspicions confirmed, he then confronted Deaconess Charlotte. ¡°So, this Charlotte lady cast Charm rather than suffer the indignity of a breakup,¡± said Zilara with a sage nod. ¡°Many such cases.¡± ¡°More than that.¡± Calaf brought forth the Plain Silver Knife of Apostasy-Slaying (x1). ¡°She said ¡®Go forth and kill that desert-dwelling hussy. With her gone, there shall be nothing in the way of our love.¡¯¡± Calaf spoke with his head in his hands, hunched over. ¡°Charm techniques build up resistance over time,¡± Zilara explained. ¡°It¡¯ll be harder to get charmed by the same target next time. It¡¯s not coming back once dispelled. You should be okay.¡± ¡°You¡¯re safe now.¡± Jelena offered her hand. ¡°C¡¯mon. Travel with us. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± A flock of dire-pigeons flew low over the rocks and shrubberies of their redoubt. It was the only other sign of life out here in the crags north of Granite Pass. The silence that followed Jelena¡¯s offer was broken when Calaf pushed her hand away. ¡°Don¡¯t. Don¡¯t come near me,¡± he said, and rose from his seat. ¡°Calaf¡­¡± ¡°It would be best to keep our distance. Just¡­ let me be alone for a while.¡± With that, Calaf marched off in silence, alone, to the north.
Chapter Seventy-Three: Martyr Without A Faction Rep
Calaf walked through the hinterlands, south of the Battletower but well north of Deepwood. He traveled in a fugue state, barely registering anything beyond the next step of his heavy metal-studded boot. Signs of the late hinterlands uprising waited just off the beaten path. Cultivator camps sat, abandoned, barely hidden behind elements of camouflage. Many still had supplies, their garrisons having fled overnight once the church¡¯s crusading call brought the regular army into the region. Many camps still had supplies, and Calaf helped himself to any spare water or foodstuffs ¨C fully abandoned and without owner, it was hardly stealing; taking them only prevented the supplies from going bad. It was late summer. Even in these high hinterlands, the humidity hung close like a shroud. Trudging along in full armor proved stifling. No wonder pilgrimage mostly took place in Spring. Still, onward Calaf trudged. Wonder what Gorman¡¯s up to around now, Calaf thought. They¡¯d last met back near the Battletower. Maybe he¡¯d braved the upper levels to collect mage material in advance for his eventual rank change to Battlemage. Ah, the ideals of Paladinhood never felt further away than it did now. Traveling the pilgrimage route ¨C well, that was what he was good at. He certainly wasn¡¯t going back to Riverglen, or returning to his position as sewer guard, and certainly not continuing his betrothal to Charlotte. Not after she¡¯d charmed him and sent him off to murder Jelena. Calaf still had the knife¡­
Item: Plain Silver Knife of Apostasy-Slaying (x1) Description: A Slender Knife for Expert Scouts. Mainstay weapon of church personnel. (Requires: STR: 12, AGL: 56)
Way too much Agility for a Squire to be expected to wield. He vaguely recalled being handed the dagger in a trade. Easier to get off a sneak attack with a knife than with his signature spears. Still, his lack of skill with knives saved Jelena all manner of trouble. There¡¯d be no going back to Charlotte after this. Calaf had tried bringing up his reservations. Not only was he rebuked, but his will itself was overridden and subverted. That would ruin any engagement. Indeed¡­ Betrothal Severed. The plain text appeared on Calaf¡¯s Interface. Far to the south, Charlotte would be seeing that as well. Even Calaf¡¯s Menu designation changed:
Name: Calaf, Marriageable Bachelor
Yes, it was official now. Engagement revoked. Years of steadfast commitment to churchly values, wasted. Calaf still dared not face Jelena. Shame provided more motivation than any fear that he¡¯d be charmed and try to kill her again. Having been controlled against his will left Calaf feeling vulnerable and in need of some alone time to cool his head. The knife remained in his inventory, a sub-weapon that could be off handed in place of his shield. He took the knife out and selected [Drop], in this case burying it deep into the trunk of a squat tree on the roadside. The offending knife removed, Calaf equipped his spear and shield once more, and carried on into the hinterlands.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Sounds like your wannabe boyfriend¡¯s cut things off with that Deaconess lady.¡± Zilara stared out at the rocky landscape, looking bored. ¡°He is not my-¡± Jelena began. ¡°¡­ oh, never mind. Look, he¡¯s in a vulnerable state. We shouldn¡¯t just let him run off by himself.¡± ¡°So, we¡¯re going to engage in babysitting again?¡± Enkidu asked. Zilara giggled. ¡°Hehe. Boot¡¯s equipped on the other foot now.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not babysitting.¡± Jelena frowned in concern. ¡°We¡¯re going to¡­ just, have him join the group. Like he agreed to before all this.¡± Tracking their quarry would be no problem with Enkidu¡¯s enhanced senses. She just needed the wild man¡¯s buy-in to go looking for Calaf¡¯s trail. A group of random traders passed by the road. It was the only other group they¡¯d seen today in these late summer doldrums. ¡°I say we go get him,¡± Zilara said. ¡°It could be fun. Also, I want to see how far Hoss and the new guy can get.¡± ¡°Thank you, Zilara.¡± Jelena had her arms crossed and nodded, self-satisfied. Enkidu exhaled, fatigued. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll get his scent.¡±
¡°Thank you so much for saving us from those horrible bandits!¡± Calaf walked a full day to the north. He arrived at a no-named settlement under continued ¡®occupation¡¯ by about a dozen Cultivators. They¡¯d taken over the town during the late unpleasantness and held on as no crusader forces ever bothered to liberate this minor outpost. When Calaf arrived in town donning full heavy, Paladin-aspirant armor, the remaining Cultivators fled madly to the West, towards Firefield. Calaf had performed another chivalrous deed without even trying.
Name: Calaf, Marriageable Bachelor, Folk Hero
Once more, he was back to being a Folk Hero. This offered no rewards beyond his personal sense of self-respect and satisfaction. ¡°Well, is there anything else I can do for you while I¡¯m here?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Where is here, anyway?¡± ¡°Oh, this town ain¡¯t got a name,¡± said a local peasant. ¡°Too small. Only hamlet on this road. Folks from all around just call it the Town.¡± Not unlike Vault. That it was on this side of the river canyon may well be why this village was Of the Menu while Vault was only recently converted. There was no church or even a mission. This town must have been brought into the Menu¡¯s fold decades, maybe centuries, ago, and yet never integrated into the nearby pilgrimage route. ¡°Ay, you can stick around and we can get your pose for a statue.¡± Calaf shook his head. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± The Paladin mindset died hard. He still couldn''t accept such accolades even as his faith was at a nadir. ¡°Oh, please, we insist.¡± The peasant threw his hands open wide. ¡°We haven¡¯t gotten a real true crusader through these parts in ages.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± Calaf stepped back. ¡°Not a crusader anymore.¡± ¡°But it says so in your title history.¡± said the peasant. ¡°Why everyone, this here¡¯s a major crusader. Real hero of the church, he his!¡± ¡°Harold! Tell ¡®em about the dungeon!¡± cried a woman from a nearby hut. The peasant laughed. ¡°Surely an upstanding hero of the church would know all about the dungeon.¡± Calaf had never heard of a dungeon in these parts. Dungeons were official church-sanctioned spaces on the scale of the Battletower or Fort Duran. It made no sense for a dungeon to be set up somewhere without even the most rudimentary Mission or monastery. ¡°Have ¡®em clear it out. They can turn it into one of them reliquaries!¡± said the woman from the hut. ¡°Gimme a second, Martha!¡± Harold The Peasant smiled. ¡°Tell me more about this ¡®dungeon,¡¯¡± Calaf began, curious.
¡°So, over a year ago we met a kindly contractor who promised to build us a dungeon grand enough to draw in pilgrims off the route. Y¡¯know all routes to the Battletower bypass town, here. Worked fast, excavated the old barrow right quick. We were hoping we¡¯d be the next stop on the route, yeah? But it¡¯s been over two pilgrimage seasons now and haven¡¯t gotten more than twelve visitors come to see the ol¡¯ dungeon. And ain¡¯t none of them ever come out!¡± Harold the Peasant had led Calaf to a shaded burial mound behind the local haberdashery. A single stone archway waited as an entrance. ¡°Ay, it¡¯s got traps and monsters and the like. Like that humble merchant promised. Not sure what rewards are at the end of it; again, nobody¡¯s ever come back out.¡± ¡°What were the level ranges of the people who tried to brave this dungeon?¡± Harold shrugged. ¡°Level twenties thereabouts. A few level thirties coming backward down the pilgrimage trail. One level fifty in full knight armor. Again, none ever returned.¡± At-level for the forests and hinterlands. Well below what could be expected from any true dungeon. But there was that level fifty Squire, stronger than Calaf was now. The Squire renewed his grip on his spear. It would be perilous, even suicidal, to brave this unknown barrow alone. One last mystery remained¡­ ¡°This dungeon. Who¡¯d you commission this ''dungeon'' from?¡± ¡°A kindly merchant named John, of course.¡± Calaf froze where he stood. ¡°Honest John?¡± ¡°Aye, that sounds ¡®bout right. He was a right and upstanding merchant, said so right on his Interface!¡± Harold puffed up with pride. ¡°This was a year ago?¡± ¡°Yeah. Set us up with all sorts of sundry goods from Port Town too. Real lifeline for the town, he was. Pity all those dire-bananas he sent our way were rotten by the time we got them.¡± Even now, the not-so-humble merchant/cult leader/cultivating uber-mage continued to plague these lands. A year before the min-maxing bauble incident, Honest John was scamming hamlets out of their savings and livelihoods with a murder-dungeon. No doubt John was out there somewhere, far out in the eastern plateau, cackling as his villainy went unpunished. ¡°If I ever get my hands around his neck,¡± Calaf muttered through gritted teeth. ¡°He¡¯s losing the other half of his face.¡± ¡°What was that, noble hero?¡± asked Harold. ¡°No matter.¡± Calaf took a step forward. ¡°I¡¯ll handle this."
Chapter Seventy-Four: Dungeon Crawling Calaf
¡°If I do not return, destroy this entrance. I¡¯ll head back if I encounter any of the fallen adventurers or run into any dire-beasts of a higher level than myself.¡± Calaf had told Harold the Peasant this before disappearing into the barrow. Now he stepped, shield up, through the halls. The last words Harold said before Calaf walked over the threshold echoed through his mind: ¡°Menuspeed, good sir. And watch out of the barrow-wights!¡± Barrow-wights. Good. Good! Something even worse than min-maxed cultists, dire-tarantulas, dire-worms, and fungal zombies! Just what Calaf needed in his fragile and listless mental state: undead wights from before the Demon King¡¯s age. Still, Calaf stepped onward. He lit his spear ablaze and traveled forward, not unlike how he did in the Port Town cisterns. With his defense-focused class and his relative lack of Agility, Calaf had little way of detecting a trap before he tripped it. He would have to focus on his shield Sure would be nice to have the Holy Lockpicks of the Scout on hand, Calaf thought to himself as he walked, slowly, through the burial mound. They¡¯d made trap-finding and stealth so much easier. Calaf did encounter previously triggered rock traps and tripwires. So, this was the path trodden by the previous dungeon crawlers. Still, he found no enemies nor any corpses. Traps would have injured the previous adventurers, but not enough to where they couldn¡¯t heal up and carry on. They had not been deterred, and neither was Calaf. Of course, they were all dead now.
Torches awaited at every turn and corner. Calaf used his burning spear to light every torch or scone he found. It helped, but the torches were old and had been set alight more than once in the past. They were near the end of their lifecycle and would fade within the hour. Still, Calaf pressed on. No enemies were ever found, save for a level twelve dire-rat, well below Calaf¡¯s notice. It scampered out of the way, sensing his level advantage. The barrow layout was winding; older wooden supports had been knocked out and replaced with sturdier and newer stone archways. Each hall was straight, but constant intersections meant the ¡®dungeon¡¯ zigged and zagged. The path zigged along a route that maximized the travel time through the barrow ¨C winding this way and that, taking up every modicum of space in the mound while moving around a central burial chamber. More rooms to traverse meant more rooms for traps ¨C but luckily most had already been tripped. His boot tripped a wire right at the turn to the final hallway. Three great bolts flew out from hidden slits in the wall ahead. They embedded themselves harmlessly in Calaf¡¯s mighty redstone shield. Poisoned Bolts (x3). A trap worthy of Honest John. Calaf stashed the failed assassination instruments in his Inventory and continued, moving more carefully this time. Still no bodies. Odd. Maybe the other dozen souls who disappeared down here had simply missed this last trap. Regardless, the final chamber awaited. No barrow-wights had yet been found. Though conspicuous caskets lined the halls that could lurch open to surprise dungeon-goers on the way out. Calaf dreaded whatever awaited in this main burial chamber. With no dead adventurers in the tunnels themselves, clearly, the previous twelve travelers died in this final chamber. He¡¯d promised he wouldn¡¯t head back until he found the other party¡¯s corpses, though. And so, he stepped into a round, wide chamber.
Moonlight streamed through a circular hole dead center in the mound''s curved roof. Time grew wonky underground, and night had already fallen while Calaf was inching forward through the halls. The central chamber branched out into two divots to the back-left and front-right respectively. The other walls were cracked. Almost as if they were false. Calaf had a sneaking suspicion of what was going to happen. Still, he stepped forward, needing to know the fates of those who came before. A wall fell away just as Calaf stepped irrevocably into the chamber. A swirling vortex of flesh and claws emerged from the forward-left position. A snarling, fanged, bald head with a crown sat atop this maelstrom. ¡°Of course, it has to be one of these,¡± Calaf snarled.
Name: Vile Emperor Dire-Rat King
Title: Imperator of All Rats, Beast
Level: 99
Status: 6666/6666 (Plagued, Regal, Indomitable)
Weapons: - Acid-Dripping Poison Fangs (Sharp) (x1) - Platinum-Shattering Claws (x490)
¡°Level ninety-nine!?¡± Calaf pulled his shield up and repositioned his grip. He was going to need it. What good would this desert-sourced shield do against a rat statistically more powerful than the king of all demons!? No wonder none of the other adventurers had left a corpse when they died. This thing probably disintegrated level twenties with a touch! Counterweights moved about in the walls, and a great iron gate fell into place over the door Calaf came in through. Honest John was trapping Calaf in no-survival scenarios even across time and space. Somewhere out there, the Squire was sure that vile merchant was laughing with what remained of his lips and jaw. No retreat. The demon-rat was never going to accept his surrender. Fighting back was the only option. The rat-king held its jagged claws aloft and summoned its minions.
Special Technique: Imperator Rat-Hurricane (Category 5) Effect: Sends forth a great whirlwind of rats to devour all in their path.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
While landlocked Calaf was distracted wondering what a hurricane was, the storm of rats twirled about counter-clockwise. The rat-tower gathered until they neared the ceiling, then they advanced. Calaf held his breath, shield up. A storm of rats hammered against red stone. He did not die right away! When the shield said it had one hundred percent physical defense, boy was the smith not exaggerating. Killing these things was the Squire¡¯s literal job description. He wasn¡¯t about to give up now, not while his hit points were greater than zero. Still bracing against the all-consuming rat-storm, Calaf swung laterally with his burning spear. Flames dispersed the lesser rats. The rat-nado died down, then the swarm returned to its master. Had Calaf just stared down a god-level creature with only a redstone shield and spear of the desert nomads? Not only are the women of the Firefield deserts impossibly bombshell-sexy, but their blacksmiths could also forge god-slaying equipment! Or, there was the simpler explanation: Honest John¡¯s trademark trickery was at play. Calaf moved toward the middle of the chamber in search of better footing. Perhaps the rat king alone was level 99. The minions could be at-level for the hinterlands. If so, the battle was survivable, just unwinnable. Still, Calaf did not give up. He cast Tautological Defense, the better to provide any kind of barrier between his fragile level-forties flesh and a blow from a level 99 claw. A great light started at the tip of the rat king¡¯s crown. It soon grew into a blazing conflagration.
Vile Emperor Dire-Rat King Casts
Spell: Muroid Fireball
Effect: Launches a fireball as large and as hot as a dire-rat can muster.
Description: --
Who knew a dire-rat possessed intelligence enough to cast magic? Given the lack of a description, this may be the first time anyone observed such a phenomenon! Calaf only hoped he¡¯d live to tell of it. The fireball crashed against Calaf¡¯s shield. He was no longer wielding Kai¡¯s fire-impervious tower shield, so Calaf took some minor scratch damage. Considering he wasn¡¯t a smear on the wall though, it stood to reason Calaf was not locked in mortal combat with a rat with the powers of a deity. ¡°Hey!¡± came a high-pitched voice from the hallway. ¡°Don¡¯t die before we get you out, Hot Shot. Just a few more seconds!¡± It wasn¡¯t Howard, nor his apparent wife Martha. It was a most-familiar relic thief and her tall but slender bodyguard. ¡°Enkidu, get the door!¡± The iron grating was sliced into four pieces with two diagonal swipes. Enkidu and Jelena soon ran up to Calaf¡¯s flanks. A diminutive figure with short hair waited by the door. ¡°Heheh. So that¡¯s how it works,¡± Zilara said, looking at the rat-emperor.
¡°What¡¯ve we got?¡± Jelena asked, knives in hand. ¡°Interface says it¡¯s level 99.¡± Calaf ran to the front of the group, serving as de facto tank. ¡°Whoa.¡± ¡°In a random burial mound?¡± Enkidu sharpened his sword with a jagged pair of his unkempt nails. ¡°Unlikely.¡± ¡°Right?¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°It¡¯s got to be a trick. I know the guy who designed this place. He¡¯s a conman. Total charlatan.¡± ¡°Wanna do the honors?¡± Jelena asked. With a nod, Calaf moved into place. He took a running leap and was propelled upwards by a batting swing from the dull end of Enkidu¡¯s blade. Flaming Sword of Faith lit both the redstone spear tip and shield ablaze. The spear skewered the rat king, toppling its crown. While the fiery shield crashed into the ¡®throne¡¯ of common dire-rats, scattering them all.
Name: Vile Emperor Dire-Rat King
Title: Imperator of Rats, Beast
Level: 99
Status: -35/6666(???) (Error: StatSpoofFailure; Dead(?))
The dire-rat king of kings was slain, with nowhere near six thousand damage accumulated. The beast¡¯s loot came in short order.
Item Obtained:
Rat King¡¯s Crown x 1 Barrow Lint (x4)
Dire-rat tails (x117) Silver Ring of Level Spoofing (x1)
Gold x 10000 Experience: 866 xp
A fair haul. Nowhere near the cornucopia of experience expected from a level 99 creature. But¡­ Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 43
Strength: 45 (+1)
Endurance: 66 (+2)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 27 (+2)
Arcane: 11 (+1)
Luck: 36 (+2)
Exceptional gains for the level 40 doldrums. His hit points and general defense should¡¯ve started increasing exponentially from here on out. ¡°Good going.¡± Jelena smiled at him pleasantly. She was also eyeing him up and down and barely concealing a lip bite. Calaf ignored it for now. ¡°It was a trick.¡± Calaf presented the level spoofing ring. ¡°Probably closer to level thirty.¡± ¡°You figured it out,¡± said Zilara, still near the door. ¡°Not bad.¡± How did they even get rings onto a dire-rat¡¯s claw? Honest John¡¯s many cons boggled the mind. Two other collapsed walls evidenced where this ruse had been done at least twice before. But those rat kings were dead. Where, then, were the adventurers? Muffled sounds of falling stone and whirring rope indicated where more pulleys and unseen instruments were moving about in the background. A pedestal appeared, big enough for a full party of five, directly under the moonlight. ¡°Funny. It was still day when we entered,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Be careful,¡± Zilara added. ¡°Well, you heard the girl.¡± Jelena patted Enkidu on the back. ¡°Go step on it, big guy. We¡¯ll watch and observe.¡± ¡°With respect,¡± Enkidu said in his plain-but-sneering tone. ¡°Your friend was the one who slew the beast. Perhaps he should stand on it.¡± ¡°Oh, just drop a rock on it!¡± Zilara yelled. ¡°You¡¯ll see what I mean.¡± There were plenty of rubble bits and loose stone to go around. Calaf dropped one, with his Inventory of course, onto the plate. Another whirring of unseen mechanisms. The wall dead ahead opened after a few seconds lag time to reveal a hoard of gleaming gold and multiple overlarge chests bulging with coins. The victor¡¯s podium also fell aside, revealing a long drop and a great pit filled with spikes. Many skeletons waited, impaled, at the bottom. One was clad in full, high-tier heavy armor. Spikes were enough to slay anyone around level thirty or below. And the fall damage alone was enough to kill off higher levels with heavier armor. There were twelve skulls, pierced and broken, at the bottom of the pit. ¡°That accounts for the last of the adventurers,¡± Calaf said, softly. The other parties had survived the traps and tricks and defeated the fake rat-imperator only to die to one last ruse. Older corpses showed signs of being looted; John had been around at some point in the past year to collect his ¡®winnings.¡¯
A second, smaller beam of ¡®moonlight¡¯ shined down on the treasure hoard, giving it an extra gleam. The group of four examined the stash.
Item: Gold of the Fool Description: Fake gold. Not born of Menuly combat. Entirely worthless to any merchant.
¡°All of it?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°The whole thing is worthless?¡± Not sure what I expected, given who we were dealing with, thought the Squire. ¡°Anyone at-level heading north from Granite Pass or Deepwood wouldn¡¯t have high enough Agility or related perception skills to notice,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Even if they won and survived that last pitfall, they¡¯d head back to town with counterfeit currency. Scams all the way down.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t make much sense to stash gold in a chest,¡± Jelena added. ¡°Anyone with a Brand can just keep it in their Inventory.¡± Calaf shrugged, acknowledging the point. ¡°Hmmm.¡± Zilara gazed at a treasure chest. ¡°Just one¡­ last¡­¡± The young girl opened the chest with a sly smile. A great crashing sound like every trip-mechanism collapsing in the walls all at once sounded. Bricks and stones began to shake free and collapse. One last trick! The barrow began collapsing atop them. Moving lightning fast, Enkidu grabbed Zilara and was out the door in a greenish-red blur. ¡°I did tell him to rescue the kid first if anything happened,¡± Jelena said, impressed by his dedication. ¡°But I don¡¯t think we¡¯re getting out of here in time!¡± Calaf held his shield up to protect Jelena from falling rocks. ¡°What should we do?¡± he asked. Jelena looked around the fool¡¯s treasure hoard. ¡°It¡¯s another trick.¡± The relic thief stood under the small spate of moonlight. ¡°Come, stand here.¡± Calaf did so, his chest flush with hers. She was quite lanky for her build, being shorter than him by just a smidge. Tall, slender bodies seemed to be another attractive desert-nomad quality. ¡°Trust me.¡± She smiled. ¡°¡¯Course if I¡¯m wrong, we¡¯re dead.¡± Calaf kept his shield covering their heads as they embraced on this narrow opening. The entire subterranean dungeon collapsed around them, plummeting two floors. Only the space directly above them remained clear. An elaborate series of mirrors used to refract sunlight into an illusory moon remained dangling, however precarious. They were back in the light of day, surrounded by dust and a field of sod-and-stone refuse. Even Enkidu would take a while to traverse the mess that remained of this ancient barrow turned sacrilegious funhouse. And there Calaf and Jelena were, standing on the one safe pedestal. ¡°In my business, you have to think on your feet,¡± she explained. Calaf didn¡¯t say anything. He merely leaned down and kissed her, statuses or Interface titles be damned. The pair were embracing on the floor by the time Enkidu came to fish them out of the debris field.
Chapter Seventy-Five: Failed Seduction Saving Throw (Complimentary)
With the barrow collapsed and the off-brand dungeon destroyed, Calaf and Jelena found themselves exhausted and covered in barrow-dust. They cleaned up as well as possible then were offered (separate) rooms in the town¡¯s modest inn free of charge for their good deed. A grand total of three rooms were available ¨C the inn¡¯s entire stock ¨C and Calaf, Jelena, and Zilara occupied all three. Enkidu, as always, kept watch in the hall, eyes closed but ever alert. Though the town¡¯s nominal claim to fame was destroyed, Harold didn¡¯t act mad. Neither were they run out of town by an angry mob. ¡°Eh, it was an eyesore anyway,¡± Harold had said. Calaf was too tired to dwell on the significance of destroying the ancient barrow, burial ground to untold hundreds. Guilt came after he awoke. It proved that he was still in a chivalrous mindset, at least. With zero services of any kind in this minor hamlet, the group took off in the morning to the south and west. They skirted the woods, and nobody particularly wanted to travel in their exhausted states, but by late afternoon they were in the idyllic hot spring groves of Twelfthnight. Along the way, Calaf explained the origins of the Fell Barrow Dungeon ¡°Honest John, huh?¡± Jelena wrinkled her nose. ¡°Sounds familiar. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met him though. You said he got ahold of some of the level-up relics?¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Ah.¡± Jelena shuffled about, uncharacteristically awkward. ¡°Enkidu and I put that out for auction on fire sale prices. Just trying to fund our trip north for a few weeks until the next big scam.¡± The relic thief put a fist up to her eyepatch and knocked on it as if to say, ¡®My bad¡¯. She also put her tongue out. This went a long way to getting Calaf to forgive her the slight. Yes, when Jelena smiled suddenly everything just felt forgivable.
The town of Twelfthnight was nearly empty in the off-season. With the summer heat hanging close in a stifling humidity, there wasn¡¯t a market for hot springs. The town received some traffic in the winter but for the most part, the village shuttered up until year¡¯s end. This is to say, there was no problem acquiring a room at a premier inn for less than the gold winnings Calaf had earned from that rat king. Dwelling secure, the group went their separate ways for the afternoon. Enkidu went to meditate atop a rock. Zilara ran off to read Interface designations of the local dire-pigeon population. Calaf, meanwhile, waited in his room. The Squire contemplated the trajectory of his life. His betrothal, severed. His promised position in the church wasn¡¯t panning out. Why, the only act he¡¯d gotten any sense of accomplishment out of recently was wandering the roads and helping people, often by accident. Well, there was one way that would ensure he could still wander the pilgrimage stations as a ¡®career¡¯ so to speak. Calaf and Jelena had come to an agreement before the charm mishap. Hopefully, she was still open to that after he¡¯d attempted to stab her in a charmed stupor.
Hours of brooding passed before there was a knock on the door. Calaf opened the door, found nobody at eye-level, and then looked down. Zilara stared, still in her glamor-ring disguise. ¡°Hoss says you should head to the hot spring.¡± ¡°Jelena?¡± Calaf cocked his head. Zilara nodded hers. ¡°Yeah. Said you¡¯d know the one.¡± Very well. Calaf equipped what effects he could on short notice and took off towards the village hot springs. ¡®You¡¯d know the one.¡¯ Calaf wondered what she meant by that. She couldn¡¯t possibly¡­ The sun set late at this point in summer. During the pilgrimage it was already dark at this hour. But now the sun was just beginning to dip below the tree line. Whatever could Jelena be planning?Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Calaf waited until the late evening. He hung about the base of the stairs, resting his feet in the hot springs ¨C they seriously ached from the months of travel. Muscles relaxed as he stood there sweating it out amidst layers of steam Then, as evening gave way into night, Calaf received a visitor. ¡°Hey there, Hot Shot.¡± A figure stepped down the long stairwell, silhouetted by a full moon. Not long ago it was Calaf heading down the stairs. Now, though, Jelena entered the springs sans eyepatch and wrapped in only a towel. ¡°Took a while to find a towel that wasn¡¯t Interface-compatible,¡± Jelena said. The relic thief walked down the stairs, then to the edge of the springs. There, with one foot in the water, she dropped the towel. ¡°It¡¯s just not as appealing if you select it and whisk it into an Interface, yes?¡± Did you really send Zilara to summon me for a booty call, Calaf thought but knew better than to say. Jelena sashayed into the waters, disappearing into the steam. Desert women had immaculate backsides, man. Her whole body was just curve atop sexy, inticing curve. Riverglen girls couldn¡¯t possibly compare. The na?ve young Squire found himself following close at her heels, rapidly unequipping clothing and items until his armor and gear was out of the way. To his delight, Jelena¡¯s slender nails were held around the small of her back, gently waving at him. Beckoning him closer. It was the off-season. None would disturb them at this hour.
A full moon hung high in the sky as the pair grew better acquainted with each other at the far end of the hot spring. Jelena and Calaf mostly continued where they¡¯d left off in the library, with the added benefit of already being out of their clothes. Calaf pressed into his once-rival as she leaned back against the edge of the springs. Her full, voluptuous form was open to him, inviting. His hands moved on instinct, resting on Jelena¡¯s thighs. ¡°Mmm. Nice and eager,¡± Jelena purred as Calaf¡¯s lips explored along her collarbone. ¡°That¡¯s good. Keep it up, Hot Shot.¡± With nothing left to stop them, Calaf would earn far more than that simple kiss-stealer status. Far too eager to sit there and receive, Jelena led Calaf by the hand. She only needed a bit of prodding, and instinct did the rest. ¡°¡­ If I didn¡¯t trust that oh-so chivalrous Squirely honor code of yours, I¡¯d say you knew what you were doing already.¡± Still, Calaf kissed along her neck and chest more fervently. Jelena bit her lip. ¡°Ah.¡± Jelena gasped. ¡°Or maybe you¡¯re just a natural.¡± The relic thief grabbed the edge of the spring and pulled herself up and out of the water. She was entirely bare, water cascading off her curves. ¡°Well, Hot Shot. So eager. I think we can move ahead to the really fun parts,¡± she began, looking down at him with both her natural and her Scoured eye. Calaf wasted no time, leaning up to kiss her navel. She rolled her stomach against Calaf¡¯s hands and lips. As his kisses ventured lower still, she stroked her nails through his hair. She gazed down at her onetime nemesis with a smoldering I-always-get-what-I-want look upon her face. Summer nights were so humid that they weren¡¯t growing cold even with Calaf¡¯s torso out of the water. Jelena leaned back, thighs open. ¡°Oh~¡± Jelena said, breath leaving her as her eyes fluttered. ¡°That¡¯s~ well¡­ by the priestess¡¯s blessed womb, that¡¯s¡­ mmm¡­ heavenly.¡± She bit her lip, stifling any further moans. A hand ventured down to Calaf¡¯s open jaw. Two fingers daintily shut his mouth, then tugged him up and out of the springs into a tongue-intertwining kiss. Now fully out of the springs, Calaf clambered atop Jelena. Water cascaded off the pair and onto the wooden planks by the poolside, some plush towels placed over the lip for just such an occasion. ¡°Come, dear Calaf,¡± Jelena beckoned. ¡°I can still feel some inhibitions there. Just let go with me. Put those instincts to good use.¡± Calaf gazed down at the bombshell relic thief who¡¯d just wrapped her powerful legs around him to draw him in closer. Her Branded eye gazed back at him, clouded and Scoured. While her good eye pierced him with a steely and coquettish gaze. The frayed Brand did little to diminish her beauty. And her naturally coiled-curly hair, still mostly dry, sprawled out on the ground like a halo. Instincts would take him far. Still¡­ ¡°Just follow my lead.¡± She kissed him again. ¡°Let me teach you exactly what you need.¡± There would be no more experienced teacher in the realm. And they were in a secluded environment of perfect romance. Calaf responded with just a nod. Jelena answered it with a smile before swiftly taking charge of the situation. The pair pressed closer still by the poolside. If it were possible to mold together into one organism Calaf would have found the way there. Jelena¡¯s instructions were followed, dutifully, to the letter. Then, with an intent motion, a mutual gasp, and a fulfilling sensation Calaf had never experienced before¡­
Name: Calaf, Oath Breaker, Folk Hero.
Rank: Squire
Level: 43
Status: 148/146 (Kiss-stealer, betrothal-severer, hot springs-clean)
Calaf gazed into Jelena¡¯s alluringly mismatched eyes. They¡¯d passed the point of no return. Squirely vows of chastity were broken, irrecoverable. At least he¡¯d had the good sense to call off his previous engagement before succumbing to temptation. But now, everyone he passed on the street would know what he¡¯d been doing out of the bounds of Menu-mandated matrimony. Even so, the pleasurable sensations only built. He felt a connection with Jelena, one that transcended their physical selves (though they were certainly connected that way now, too). ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Jelena said, looking up at him rapturously. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about anyone or anything else. It¡¯ll be¡­ ah, fine.¡± His new paramour ran a hand along his chest. ¡°Just stay with me. You¡¯re almost there, Hot Shot. Just¡­ keep it up.¡± The pair embraced, lips melding together. Calaf pressed further, eliciting a gasp. ¡°O-oh,¡± Jelena¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Like that. Mmm, more of that~¡± The pair remained undisturbed in their private hot springs even as the night wore on.
Chapter Seventy-Six: Morning After; Long Road Ahead
Calaf awoke in a plush bed. The layout was identical across all rooms in the inn, but he could tell it wasn¡¯t his. Too many rucksacks were stashed against the walls, and a pair of long boots waited near the door. The Squire did not need rucksacks with his Inventory in order. And those boots belonged to¡­ Jelena stirred, lying sprawled out face-up on her ¨C their ¨C bed. Limbs were angled every which way and sheets covered nothing. She was nude, as was Calaf, save for a single garment:
Item: Maiden¡¯s Mithril Bonnet of Slumber Description: A fine bonnet fair maidens use to keep their naturally curly hair pristine overnight. Protects from bedhead. Extra poofy. Of course, if a potential paramour is viewing the user dressed in this headgear, well, she may not be much of a maiden anymore. CHR +2 (You¡¯ve gotten used to it and it¡¯s pretty fetching and cute), END +3 specifically for hair when properly tucked into the bonnet
A single curly lock poked out of the bonnet, denied the headgear¡¯s Endurance-enhancing properties. Stats-based benefits from the attire were questionable, bereft of the Interface such that Jelena was. Still, it was quite cute. What had they been up to? Oh, right. Memories came rushing back. They¡¯d done it in the hot springs. Then Jelena had shown him some additional fun to be had with their mouths in an alley behind the inn. Then they¡¯d done it once or twice more after stumbling into her room not long before sunrise. By the Menu, he¡¯d slept with Jelena Turandot, infamous church apostate. Calaf¡¯s heart raced. He rapidly flitted through excuses. It was because of grief from his recently severed betrothal! No, he was Charmed again by this seductress. No, no. That wasn¡¯t it. Calaf had no one to blame but himself. If you would call it blame. He had a status now, every neighbor and pilgrim on the route would see his status as an Oath Breaker. Mere church laypeople had a less strict code of honor to upkeep. It was only by moving up so high in the church, and treading the noble path of Paladin, that the now-sullied Squire had fallen so far. Still, looking at Jelena there, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but feel his racing heart give way to a fluttering sensation. She was strikingly beautiful, even sprawled out there and snoring profusely. This was without doubt. Calaf leaned down and planted a kiss on the forehead just below the relic thief¡¯s bonnet. Jelena stirred slightly, letting out a soft coo unbecoming of a grizzled relic thief. With Jelena still snoring softly, limbs spread out every which way, Calaf rose. He donned his equipment via the Interface, and slowly, quietly left out the door.
By the Interface, why did his hips ache? Calaf must¡¯ve stretched muscles he¡¯d never once exerted before. Were there muscles meant just for these purposes? How did parents of multiple children, or those women in the Firefield bordellos, ever walk straight? Calaf limped along, too proud to admit the soreness was somewhat pleasant. As he walked, the squire looked back at his Menu designation for the fourth or fifth time.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Oath Breaker. It was a title that would follow him for some time, refreshing for every additional indiscretion. Front and center on his Menu, the first thing anyone he passed on the street, any shopkeeper would know, was that he was sleeping around. The sullied Squire walked down the empty streets of Twelfthnight. Every second store was closed for the season. Calaf would need some adornments for his armor. Black highlights, to reference his sullied reputation. Yes, this would negatively affect his status as a Paladin forevermore. No further betrothals with pure and lovely church deaconesses. Why, he¡¯d likely be turned down for any church prestige positions in favor of more honorable candidates. Frustrated, the Squire shook his head. Perhaps a quick meal would help to clear his mind. He¡¯d worked up a bit of a sweat overnight. A rumbling in Calaf¡¯s stomach indicated it was time for breakfast. Finding an open food vendor at this hour proved difficult. He found a mobile Friar Destin¡¯s location that was out of dire-duck sandwiches. While waiting for the veggie-steaming spells to prep, Calaf was approached from behind. ¡°Hey.¡± It was Jelena. Out of the bonnet, back in the eyepatch. Wearing plain civilian garb meant more for lounging and comfort than for adventure and combat. She¡¯d been expecting to rest around the inn for the early afternoon. ¡°M-Madam Turandot,¡± Calaf stammered, to a confused Jelena. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I shall take responsibility for this horrible shame upon us.¡± Jelena raised her eyebrow further still. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Calaf continued. ¡°I shall do¡­ whatever people do in this situation.¡± The most-wanted Jelena was already excommunicated and in open rebellion. She wouldn¡¯t have to consign herself to a nunnery in shame of this horrible indiscretion. So, there was that. As a former working girl at a brothel, she¡¯d done this quite a lot actually. Was this just another uneventful day for her? Was Calaf just another fling to be used and cast aside once Jelena¡¯d exhausted the novelty of seducing a churchly Squire into a life of sin? That last thought left Calaf feeling worse than if he¡¯d resigned himself to a monastery in a life of penance, actually. Yes, he didn¡¯t want to be used and discarded. What he wanted¡­ Judging by her bemused expression, Calaf was making a fool of himself. He felt his whole body turn warm. Rather than admonish him, Jelena merely laughed. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ upstanding of you. And very adorable. But most people don¡¯t ¡®do¡¯ anything redemptive after, well, doing it.¡± ¡°Certainly not anything that drastic,¡± Zilara said. The holy brat and Enkidu caught up with Jelena and her position-pending beau. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Calaf said. ¡°What is it people¡­ do¡­ now?¡± Jelena smiled, one hand on her hip ¡°Well, I was hoping you¡¯d say yes to my offer to travel together. Among other things.¡± The more Calaf thought, the more he realized he likely wasn¡¯t returning to a position as a sewer guard or any other type of guard. Let alone any higher-ranking church positions that would put him in close contact with any of the arbiters. Yes, those bridges had been thoroughly burned. And on his journey ¨C first to apprehend, later to be with, Jelena ¨C he¡¯d outgrown these potential roles. Traveling the pilgrimage route wasn¡¯t meant to result in faithful abandoning the church, but in this case, it seemed to be where Calaf¡¯s journey had brought him. ¡°What do you say, brave and noble Calaf.¡± Jelena winked at him. ¡°Wanna travel together to the next city or two? We can save on inn and camp supplies by bunking up.¡± That was a journey that would lead to more indiscretion, Calaf sensed. But he found himself looking forward to the journey and indiscretions both. And who knew? The level and ranking system itself didn¡¯t mandate that Paladins be squeaky-clean avatars of churchly virtue. It was merely part of the church¡¯s social code. He could maintain his shield and spear. Continue to earn experience. And, with the proper relic rubble from Fort Duran, could still reach the coveted rank of Paladin, sullied with sinful desire for Jelena Turandot though he was. The Squire nodded. Jelena offered a hand, and he took it. ¡°Soooo~¡± she looked at him with a warm eye-fluttering gaze. ¡°Whatcha ordering? Mind if we get enough for two?¡± Over by the Friar Destin¡¯s stall, a bored-looking clerk had been waiting for him to order for some time now. ¡°Oooh, I want something too!¡± said Zilara. ¡°I shall do without,¡± Enkidu said. Calaf nodded eagerly. ¡°It¡¯ll be my treat. Least I could do.¡± ¡°We pool gold for our meals in most cases, Hot Shot.¡± Jelena stepped up beside Calaf. ¡°But I won¡¯t say no to a treat.¡± Clouds pooled over the mountain highlands to the west and south. It would be best to move up the route, into the plains. No doubt Jelena would want to continue moving into the desert. ¡°Excuse me,¡± said the food vendor. ¡°Are you two together? If so, uh, can I take your order?¡± The former pilgrimage station guard and former church sister looked at each other. With a quick nod, they turned to the vendor. ¡°Yes,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Why, yes we are,¡± said Jelena. The pair ordered a serving of hash browns, pan-seared by a Minor Conflagration spell. Their hands were intertwined. Calaf came to realize that he didn¡¯t care what his title said or how many people saw him cavorting with n apostate relic thief. Maybe apostasy wasn¡¯t so bad. Maybe he was halfway to apostasy already. And maybe he didn¡¯t want to uphold church strictures any longer. In fact, there was no place he¡¯d rather be.
Volume I Epilogue: All Is Right With the World
Elsewhere in the world, a group of four beleaguered, battle-hardened pilgrims braved the perils and traps of the Battletower. Their Paladin blocked a swinging buzzsaw trap with his tower shield, saving the party¡¯s crestfallen, checked-out Cleric from a mortal blow. She acknowledged it with a faint, dull-eyed nod, to a vicious and snarling reprimand from the Paladin. ¡­ A Squire, flush from victory at Fort Duran, knelt before the statue of the Paladin at a waystation in the Fellmarshes. ¡­ A forsaken heir ducked into the ancient catacombs beneath the Olde Capital, keeping several steps ahead of church inquisitors. A fortnight ago, he¡¯d received word that his mother had been slain, excommunicated, and placed upon a stake on a road. All holdings were forfeit for every generation henceforth. The heir was out the door, zweihander strapped to his back, long before the first inquisitors arrived at the family keep. ¡­ A pair of beleaguered arbiters continued to slash, burn, and disintegrate incoming rot-infected corpses. Though it had been weeks of near-constant fighting, neither appeared tired in the slightest. ¡­ A group of monks in Deepwood swiftly and accurately transcribed a list of books damaged in a freak table-collapsing incident. Oddly, it appeared that one of the books had been run through with a dagger.
¡­ A junior scribe of the restricted archives happened upon the true purpose of the southern monastical spire and was quickly enveloped in deadly shadows. ¡­ A Riverglen deaconess wondered whether her charm effect had worn off yet.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡­ A broken cocoon-like an eggshell stuck out, furtively, from the Firefield dunes. Pandemonium wisps surrounded it, so thick a Branded could never approach. ¡­ Far to the west, an unbranded dire-rabbit, having been slain by a hawk three hours prior, hopped down into a narrow fissure. It emerged into a world unseen and unknowable to those on the surface. Though its eyes were plucked out it saw all the same. It joined a cacophony of other repurposed corpses, all opened and blooming into great fungal plumes. Its spine opened at the midsection, and it erupted, setting loose a cloud of spores on an outgoing breeze. ¡­ On the plains, twin dire-worms burst from the dried soil, ready to terrorize the dried-up lake. ¡­ In the cold, far north, in lands unchurched by the Menu, a nomadic settlement wondered where their clan chief¡¯s daughter¡¯s travels had taken her. ¡­ Far to the east, a man with half a face traded a ragged and bloody jacket for half a mask. ¡­ Meanwhile, amid the alpine hot springs of Twelfthnight, a Squire and a brand-scoured former Cleric rushed into their reserved room at an inn, hoping to get one last round in before it was time to check out and hit the road. All was right with the world.
High atop a long-dead demon corpse, a bard relayed the latest progress reports to the archpope. ¡°¡­ By next pilgrimage season, verily, the dream of your forefathers shall be realized,¡± said Klavier, ruan in hand. ¡°Effort to rebuild the southern spire continues apace. Of course, it would move faster if the prodigal heir from the wildlands were secured¡­¡± The elderly old archpope gazed at the bard with his twinbrand eyes. His thin, withered lips were always angled into a slight frown. Klavier went on to describe how the church¡¯s arbitral inquisitor auxiliaries were in the process of being recruited and integrated into the church militant¡¯s command structure. The better to enforce order and keep the peace before the glorious awakening takes root. ¡°Three divisions should be ready at the north end of the route by winter, with another four by the pilgrimage eve.¡± Yes, these brave Arbitral advisors had counseled him well, and his predecessors before him. Only a year remained. One more pilgrimage and the work of generations would be complete. A world cleansed of sin was nigh. Hallowed be.
Chapter Seventy-Seven: From the Cradle... Volume II PART IV: Partners in Life and in Crime
¡°Bones of the old lord are still settling, and Gustavo and Aldia have already run off to the delta marsh and that high tower in pursuit of their dueling philosophies. Truly, we were united only by my beloved Roland and our shared mission to slay the Demon King. I¡¯ve done what I can to provide for the refugees who have come to the site of the Demon Lord¡¯s fall. Most are Shackled. I¡¯ve established basic lessons on leveling and a rudimentary ranking system to guide their path. It¡¯s an arbitrary system, stealing much from the old lord¡¯s decrees and mainly relevant to the path we¡¯ve traveled. I pray future generations can develop new and more relevant systems unbound by the past. But from here, atop the great beast¡¯s corpse¡­ It is the only thing I know. ¡°United in purpose and guided by divine providence, the Ancient Heroes of Yore established our glorious System and its Interface. The Holy Menu¡¯s strictures are perfect, the Brand is a mark of the divine. For anyone to suggest that the Holy Priestess¡¯s sermons were anything other than inerrable commandments detailing the perfect society¡­ is abominable!¡± Nay ¨C it is heresy!
The Plains Junction Cathedral Ward was locked down tighter than a nun¡¯s intimacy submenus. The Grand Cathedral of the Plains was bustling with activity, with Clerics and church guards rushing to prep for the yearly pilgrimage circuit. There¡¯d be no infiltrating the Plains Junction reliquaries. Any faithful hoping to gaze upon the sanctified Boot Polish of the Paladin (A reusable item granting a blessing of Charisma +5 to all who utilized its viscous cleaning gloop) would have to wait until next month¡¯s pilgrimage season. Winter south of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt was seldom chilly. This year, spring had come in with a roaring heat wave that melted the paltry snows of the highlands around Twelfthnight and Deepwood away all at once. Perfect weather influenced some enterprising faithful to depart upon the holy pilgrimage early. These most faithful pilgrims were unable to visit the many shrines and stations they encountered on the route. Enter Rory¡¯s Off-Cathedral Holy Shrine Revival Emporium - a rented-out mini-warehouse built into a hard plainskarst structure on the seedier end of the Plains Junction market district. Relics for those too faithful by half were available for viewing and occasional purchase with a bit of haggling. ¡°So, this is the Cleric¡¯s Besainted Footbalm,¡± said a girl of age thirteen and level thirty-one, standing amidst the crowd in a darkened viewing area. ¡°Why yes, little lady, it is!¡± Rory, Enterprising Merchant motioned to the bauble with a pointing stick. ¡°You know your holy relics. Been paying attention in church study hall, have you?¡± The young lady shrugged. ¡°Something like that.¡± ¡°Well, I see you¡¯re Of the Menu, and already in your level thirties? Impressive, for someone so small,¡± said the merchant. ¡°If you open up your Interface, you¡¯ll see that this here¡¯s a Bonafide artifact of our holy priestess, founder of the church.¡± A cerulean shimmer filled the observation room as multigenerational faithful from all walks of life observed the object of their worship through the opaque sheen of their Menus. What these worshipers saw, was this:
Item: Cleric¡¯s Besainted Footbalm (x1) Description: Completely genuine holy relic of the sainted Priestess Mia, first Cleric of the Ancient Heroes of Yore and founder of the church. Grants myriad blessings to anyone who so much as gazes upon it.
¡°Huh.¡± The young girl muttered to herself. She scanned the room. ¡°Not surprising. Still a few good finds in here.¡± ¡°Young lady, oh, that name of yours in the Interface. It¡¯s not a common one around these parts,¡± the old huckster said. ¡°Mhm. Zelda. Let¡¯s go with that. It¡¯s, ah, foreign?¡± ¡°Right you go, little missy. Would you or your properly-Branded legal guardian be interested in some one hundred percent confirmed authentic Holy Eyelashes of the Cleric? Only ten thousand gold a piece! Or ¨C or, now wait, now ¨C what of this Battlemage¡¯s Grand Silver Claymore? It¡¯s refined plus five! Surely your father could use that on his next pilgrimage. Only twenty-five thousand gold. It¡¯s guaranteed to have been bathed in bonafide demon blood or double your money back!¡± The young woman performed a full body shrug, her bangs all flopping at once. ¡°Eh, no thanks. I¡¯ll be back.¡± Punctuating this with a whistle, young Zelda turned and left the merchant¡¯s stall. She turned two corners, then summoned a diminutive white-hued glass snail from her inventory. ¡°Most of what they¡¯ve got in there is fake,¡± she whispered. ¡°Few things are legit, but spread around so much I think the emporium happened upon them by accident. Look for the battlemage¡¯s Grand Silver Claymore ¨C it¡¯ll be refined plus-five, the Cleric¡¯s Holy Sandals, Cleric¡¯s Besainted Mourning Veil, and Martyred Paladin¡¯s Greatshield. Not sure how the church lost control of that last one. Hoss¡¯s new squeeze¡¯ll be able to spot them all at a glance. Just be careful about the clientele; places like this cater to people a bit too pious for even the church''s pilgrimage schedule, yeah? Should have use for the greatshield when the time is right, too. Good hunting~~¡± As this unassuming child walked along the dusty avenues of Plains Junction, she passed an item hung against a plainskarst-stucco wall.
Item: Wanted Poster ¨C Jelena Turandot Description: A church-issued bounty for apostate former Cleric Jelena Turandot of the desert region. Known Aliases: None List of Crimes Most Unholy: Impersonating a member of the church; fornication while carrying out duties of the church; self-excommunication by brand-scouring; murder of clergy; theft of priceless divine relics. Wanted dead or alive. Subject will not have a Menu designation and will not fight bound by its strictures. Please inform a church guard on sight.
¡®Zelda¡¯ chuckled and walked on. Her opening reconnaissance role in this emporium job was done. Now it was time to stand watch over the getaway route and wait for the other two prongs of the heist to get started.
Dust pooled in the alleyways of Plains Junction. No matter how often they were swept, by weeks¡¯ end pedestrians would be walking ankle-deep in dust and soot once more. Few traveled these quiet, twisting routes when the wide-open roads of the junction were readily available. Two figures walked out of the nearest alley from the block opposite ¡®Zelda¡¯s¡¯ route and made for the swinging doors of Rory¡¯s Off-Cathedral Holy Shrine Revival Emporium. Neither possessed a Brand, nor access to the Most Holy Menu. The man was preternaturally tall, while the woman¡¯s most striking feature was the eyepatch covering a glassy, scoured Brand on her left eye. ¡°Ah, yet another day at the old haberdashery,¡± Jelena Turandot said with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯m feeling like a million gold. Hell, once we find some place to pawn all this off, we should have close to a million gold already. Going to have to celebrate, aren¡¯t we, ¡®Kido?¡± ¡°Your new recruit.¡± Enkidu growled, towering over Jelena. ¡°Hope he knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± ¡°It¡¯s his third job,¡± Jelena said. ¡°His first job alone.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a fast learner.¡± Jelena pursed her lips knowingly. ¡°More than capable of performing any task I need him to. And so attentive.¡± Enkidu held his hand out and stopped her at the door. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You do seem¡­ happier, now,¡± Enkidu admitted.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The woman¡¯s cheeks flushed a shade darker than her already generous complexion. Her lips cracked into a smile. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± ¡°Just remain careful. Overconfidence is often a swift and immediate killer.¡± Jelena¡¯s good eye caught another pair of wanted posters to the right of the swinging doors. With no Brand or Interface by which to observe the world, it was just a plain paper and words to her. For anyone Of the Menu, these posters were arranged thus:
Item: Wanted Poster ¨C Zilara Description: A church-issued bounty for any information on the whereabouts of The Holy Child, heir to a branch of descent for our Holy Priestess. Known Aliases: Zilara, Zelda, Zelena, Selena, Zetalia. Likely around level 28-35. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this Holy Child, you will be greatly rewarded. Please seek out high-ranking church personnel and do not inform other laypeople until trained arbiters can verify the claim.
And¡­
Item: Wanted Poster ¨C Enkidu Description: A church-issued bounty for unbranded barbarian operating under the moniker ¡®Enkidu¡¯ Known Aliases: None. List of Crimes Most Unholy: Murder, Relic Theft, Mass Terrorizing of Pilgrims, Operating Unbranded in the Fellmarshes, Wanted dead. Do not engage alone. Contact licensed arbiters of the church before approaching. Bounty only available for information leading to his death by officially sanctioned arbiters.
Jelena chuckled to herself. ¡°Bounties are going up. Let¡¯s go be bad guys.¡±
¡°Your relics to these false heroes shall be broken underfoot!¡± proclaimed a crazy woman with an eyepatch, having marched into Rory¡¯s Emporium and instantly disabled the token private security with twin Throwing Knives of Paralysis. Her partner, the towering feral barbarian Enkidu, mashed the pedestal containing the Cleric¡¯s Besainted Footbalm with a mighty blow from his ancient sword. Jelena followed up by slicing the blinds sheltering this darkroom from the bright plains sun with her knives. Light flooded the chamber, blinding most of the reliquary revelers. ¡°Flee!¡± Jelena Turandot yelled. ¡°Flee for your lives, god botherers!¡± With no need to be told twice, two dozen pilgrims fled out the back, knocking over a relic podium or two in their retreat. In the light of day, the shoddy construction of many of their relics was more obvious. ¡°Whew.¡± Jelena exhaled. ¡°It¡¯s more fun now that we¡¯re hamming it up to match our reputations.¡± ¡°Some of these are made of paper mach¨¦,¡± said Enkidu. Jelena adjusted her eyepatch. ¡°We¡¯ve got our targets. Just get ¡®em ready for when he gets here.
Commotion filled the emporium as all were in a state of terror. Beleaguered faithful ran to and fro, searching madly for the exit. Rory was nowhere to be found. Someone had set a fire somewhere near the entrance, preventing the crowd¡¯s escape. The exit was forced open, and a brave Squire ¨C still a dozen or more levels from achieving Paladin status ¨C held it open with his spear. By the Menu, his designation was thus:
Name: Caelus, Wandering Do-Gooder
Rank: Squire
Level: 46
Status: 190/190 (Chivalrous)
Weapons: Redstone Spear of the Desert Nomads +3 (x1)
¡°Into the alleyway! Follow me!¡± proclaimed Caelus, Wandering Do-Gooder. The thankful crowd piled out, remaining single-file only at the Squire¡¯s insistence. ¡°Yes, go, go!¡± he said. ¡°Flee as far as you can, then take cover and remain quiet. I shall cover your escape.¡± When the last civilian left the premises, ¡®Caelus¡¯ gently shut the door behind him.
¡°Jelena. All clear!¡± Calaf, former Riverglen do-gooder, rushed into the emporium. ¡°Good going.¡± Jelena¡¯s smile widened as she laid her eye on Calaf. ¡°Now come over here, dear. We need someone with an Inventory to properly filch these things.¡± Calaf rushed into the once-dark room and stashed the items Zilara had targeted for them. He selected them with the Interface provided to him per his status as Branded. The Brand of the Menu on Calaf¡¯s left arm itched slightly, perhaps sensing the sinful deeds it was being tasked with accommodating, but it vanished three legitimate holy relics into the quiet and stealthy nonspace of Calaf¡¯s Inventory all the same. The last relic remained on a podium in the far back. Calaf paid careful attention to this one.
Item: Martyred Paladin¡¯s Greatshield (x1) Description: The very shield that Paladin Roland of the Ancient Heroes of Yore was wielding in his offhand as his Duran Greatspear +15 pierced the exposed hide of the Demon King. When blocking, grants 100% defense from all non-poison, non-mental attacks from the front. (Requires: Paladin Class, Str: 55, End: 85, Chr: 40)
Prodigious stat requirements. It would be ages before even Calaf had stats enough to wield this thing. And as the Paladin Roland¡¯s shield, it would sell for a fortune ¨C possibly hundreds of thousands of gold at any black market. Hell, the church would be begging to pay for its safe return. And yet, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but fantasize about using it one day. Greed. Another emotion he was unaccustomed to. He and Jelena had gotten lust down pat, but these other vices didn¡¯t always sit well on his conscience. Nevertheless, he looted the Greatshield all the same. Desire to please Jelena won out over any vestigial sense of chivalry. ¡°Right on par,¡± Jelena announced, still gazing warmly at Calaf. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s mosey.¡± Jelena and Enkidu raced down the alleyway. Calaf was close behind; his alibi would remain that he was in pursuit of these bandits, should they require a bluff to cover the group¡¯s escape. Zilara should be waiting in a dire-horse-drawn traveler¡¯s cart not too far from the emporium. ¡°Stop right there, criminal scum!¡± The taunt was addressed to him. ¡°Yes, you!¡± proclaimed a voice from behind. ¡°I saw you cavorting with those vile unbranded heretics!¡± Calaf ¨C name and titles still masked by that ¡®Caelus¡¯ designation ¨C turned. He found a man with a pasty Port Town countenance about him and basic shielder-type garb.
Name: Josiah, Pilgrim-Aspirant
Rank: Stalwart
Level 17
Status: 35/35 (Righteous)
Weapons: - Simple Iron Spear
A low-level along the path to Paladin. Hadn¡¯t even bothered upgrading weapons or armor from its most basic configuration. No doubt a recent convert or young initiate in route to Riverglen now to begin their first official pilgrimage. ¡°Go home. You¡¯re too low-level to deal with these criminals,¡± Calaf bluffed. Josiah puffed his chest up, too self-righteous to back down. ¡°You don¡¯t fool me, ¡®Caelus¡¯, if that really is your name. I see that name-spoofing ring on your finger. You accomplice!¡± A new status effect appeared next to Josiah¡¯s hit points. Righteous Fury. A buff, granting -5 to Dialogue-based categories; +10 to Combat. General debuff to agreeableness and reason. +15 to Overconfidence and Bravado. It was a status Calaf was well familiar with. There¡¯d be no reasoning with this would-be Paladin. ¡°Have at you!¡± Josiah screamed. He pulled out a sword ¨C the other Paladin signature weapon ¨C and swung at Calaf. A Redstone Shield of the Desert Wastes blocked the blow effortlessly. Again, Calaf blocked, then pushed his unwanted foe away with a Shield Bash. ¡°Bah.¡± At such a low level, Josiah was thrown back against the wall, to his knees. ¡°You fiend.¡± A commotion sounded from the front of the emporium. Authorities had arrived. It wouldn¡¯t be long now before they¡¯d investigate the darkened alleyways. ¡°Face me!¡± Josiah yelled, defiant, ignoring the fact that backup was just around the corner. He swung again. There was no time for this. Calaf had to catch up with Jelena and the others, and fast. Fighting his way out through a legion of Plains Junction guards would only ruin the stealth-based spirit of the operation. He jutted his left hand out, Redstone Spear of the Desert Wastes cutting through the young Stalwart¡¯s guard. Though it was a measured thrust, the strength values were simply too much. Damage was immediate and catastrophic.
Name: Josiah, Pilgrim-Aspirant
Rank: Stalwart
Level 17
Status: 0/35 (Dead)
And there was some lag time between when the System called the slaying and when the victim noticed it. Change any number of factors and the blow may have rounded up to 1, saved the poor young man. Instead, he collapsed backwards, blood spurting from the wound as his own Interface registered the hit. ¡°I just wanted to¡­ walk the path,¡± Josiah stammered before his head fell back. Level up!
Caelus (Calaf) Leveled Up! Level 47
Strength: 48 (+1)
Endurance: 70 (+1)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 29
Arcane: 12
Luck: 36
Calaf grimaced. Another level he wished he could take back. It just had to happen now. Even the skill increases were paltry. The dead do-gooder remained, his health ticking down to -1/35, a representation of gradually encroaching decay. If it got to minus-five, the corpse would no longer be viable for consecration and burial in the church¡¯s cathedral crypts. All who bore the Menu were promised internment in these holy vaults. There would be no saving this prospective Paladin. Dead was dead, until the church¡¯s promised day by which the mass resurrection spell would defeat death for good, raising all faithful forevermore. Calaf looked to the Brand on his left forearm. It itched, as it often did these days when his conscience broke through and started gnawing at his soul. Church guards would find this corpse in time. In the cool but arid environment of this shaded alley, young Josiah was not at risk of having his corpse spoiled. He would be interned, as promised, no effort required on his murderer¡¯s part. Even so, Calaf stashed his spear and raised his hand. He muttered out a prayer and an incantation all at once. The Hallowed Interface registered a spell.
Calaf Uses:
Spell: Consecration
Effect: Arrests all decay and rot and qualifies the subject for internment in the crypts. Only viable on corpses between zero and negative-five HP.
Description: Preserves a Branded human corpse in the manner set down by the Church in the Third Council of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt of 56 A.D. (After Demons). ¡°After everything we fought for. Everything he died for, are we truly just going to continue the old Lord¡¯s containment protocols?¡±
Josiah¡¯s corpse took on a slight glow. ¡®Consecrated¡¯ appeared as a status on his now-frozen HP menu. This ritual complete, Calaf heard the sound of footsteps in the emporium. He took off running. Along the way, he couldn¡¯t help but notice one last poster.
Item: Missing Person¡¯s Poster ¨C Calaf of Riverglen Description: A church-issued notice requesting information on a Squire in good standing with the church. Known Aliases: None Last seen traveling north from Riverglen. Possibly apprehended by dangerous bandits or thieves. Please contact the Riverglen cathedral if you have any clue as to his whereabouts.
Chapter Seventy-Eight: Like Some Kind Of Bonnie and Clyde
¡°All clear,¡± Jelena said, strutting down the dusty plains towards their getaway caravan. The group of four walked. Jelena in her eyepatch and roguish traveler¡¯s gear, as usual. Enkidu in his plain and ragged clothes with little thought into style or even cleanliness. Zilara¡¯s disguise was subdued but fashionable; she¡¯d taken a surprising interest in foreign garb from overseas. Calaf wore a full set of Desert Silken Mail, supreme maneuverability for his class more than making up for a hit to all defensive-based stats. Desert robes partially covered the metal armor, providing some modicum of camouflage as well. It wasn¡¯t flashy, but it shielded him without slowing him down. Edit the spoofing rings to refresh Calaf and Zilara¡¯s disguises, don a shawl and a cloak so that the unbranded Jelena and Enkidu would not be recognized, and away the group went aboard one of many intercity caravans that connected the lands along the holy pilgrimage route. Priceless relics were safe in Calaf¡¯s inventory (or occasionally Zilara¡¯s, when an even less conspicuous mule was required) and they were as good as home-free. As always, the group disembarked from the caravan along the road and continued off the beaten path until it was time to make camp. Camp, too, was an item. Calaf was responsible for holding onto those as well. He selected it in his interface and mentally pressed [Use]. Three tents, a fire, and an accompanying cookpot were summoned forth from the unnaturally glowing blue hue of his Interface and built themselves. Many manhours were saved in an instant. Watching it all unfurl automatically was the greatest testament to the appeal of the Menu. Indeed, demonstrations were among the first things missionaries abroad performed to the unconverted. Three tents ¨C one for Enkidu, one for Zilara, with the third shared by Jelena and Calaf. Night fell in short order. Enkidu was the team cook. He hunted, skewered, and rotated a dire-lizard of the northern plains without a Menu. Calaf, meanwhile, sat at the provided rustic log and gazed into the fire in deep contemplation. ¡°Hey there, Hot Shot.¡± Jelena sauntered up beside him and scooted onto the log. She wrapped her hand around his midsection. ¡°Another flawless job. Should be over the border early tomorrow morning, after which the traveling emporium should be somewhere along the northern bypass ¡®twix here and Autumn¡¯s Redoubt.¡± ¡°Mmm.¡± Calaf nodded, pensive. Jelena sensed his apprehension. ¡°Noticed you were delayed on the exfiltration there.¡± ¡°Got stopped by a Stalwart. In the alley.¡± ¡°A Stalwart?¡± Jelena leaned closer. ¡°Hardly a match for a Squire, surely.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°I killed him in one blow. Not even with a crit. I was delayed because I consecrated his corpse.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Jelena rested her head against Calaf¡¯s padded shoulder pauldron. ¡°Well, that was noble of you.¡± Calaf cracked a smile. ¡°Guess I¡¯ve still got it.¡± ¡°And so humble,¡± Jelena said and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. The pair stayed there at the fire while Enkidu ¡°Hey, honey, still have that Rare Fellmarsh brandy we exfiltrated from that vault outside Granite Pass?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m not about to give it to Zillara¡­¡± Calaf sorted through his Menu and reproduced a Rare Spiced Fellmarsh Brandy (x2). ¡°Description says it¡¯s been aged four pilgrimage seasons and attended to by a team of monks in a Fellmarsh priory.¡± ¡°Dangerous place for a winery. Still, bring her here. Bit of booze should loosen that Paladin stick up your keister.¡± The eyepatch-wearing bandit nudged the Squire in the rib, playful. Calaf handed over a bottle. ¡°Supper will not be ready for another hour,¡± mentioned Enkidu, looking over his filleted dire-lizard like an expert chef. Together, Calaf and Jelena dug into their wine as an appetizer.
Seven months had passed since noble Paladin-aspirant Calaf of Riverglen had shared an evening (and night, and the next morning into the afternoon) of passion with heretical former-nun, current-relic thief Jelena Turandot of the Firefield deserts. In the intervening time, he hadn¡¯t been in a rush to return home. Too many bad memories, too many burned bridges. The tent¡¯s bunk was far too comfy, and the company too inviting.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The group had spent the inter-pilgrimage season bouncing around the area between Twelfthnight and Firefield in varying capacities. They¡¯d visit all regions, but there were two areas in particular they shied away from: Riverglen, not that Calaf wanted to stick around there long, and Port Town, infested with arbiters such that it was. Jelena sipped her brandy bottle in measured, mechanical gulps. Calaf did the same via Interface, of course. Selecting [Items], then mentally envisioning the [Food] subsection, scrolling to the recently-acquired Rare Spiced Fellmarsh Brandy (x1), and selecting ¡®Use¡¯. It had the same effect as manually imbibed spirits, and with inhibitions loosened the pair soon found themselves dancing about the fire. Zilara tried to follow along over in her private corner of the campsite but got self-conscious and swiftly retreated into her tent. All the while, Enkidu continued to observe his roast of the dire-lizard. Calaf snuck a glance at the mountain of a man as his face was bathed in the orangish firelight. The formerly godly Squire knew that Enkidu was Jelena¡¯s longest-running partner in crime. She¡¯d recruited/adopted Zilara, the holy brat, not long after Calaf had been tasked with pursuing infamous relic thief Jelena Turandot as part of a church-sanctioned quest to bring her to justice. A quest that had ended in failure, clearly. Calaf was nominally the novice of the group, courtesy of having fallen into bed with the posse¡¯s leader and just never leaving. Calaf knew that Enkidu and Jelena had, as they say, ¡®done it¡¯ approximately once (long story). In a brothel (again, long story). Still, the unbranded wild man did not hold a grudge or experience jealousy, so far as Calaf could tell. Indeed, Enkidu considered Calaf with the same bored indifference as he did every other person and thing that wasn¡¯t martial combat. ¡°Ah, need to head back to the Battletower one day,¡± Jelena said, interrupting her reverie. ¡°Have to find more shot and cartridges for the ol¡¯ pew pews.¡± Over by the dire-lizard, Enkidu grumbled. It was his way of saying he¡¯d remember and keep it on their to-do list. He cut a strip of medium-well meat off the creature. ¡°Dinner is served.¡± He growled.
The posse of four ate their grilled dino meal. Calaf and Jelena washed it down with the remains of their brandy. Enkidu was never observed drinking any liquids. Zilara fished River Delta Passionfruit Juice (x1) out of her Inventory and ate a modest portion befitting her size. When supper was done Calaf was suitably buzzed. ¡°Go on, brave sir knight.¡± Jelena helped Calaf stumble into their tent. ¡°I¡¯ll be right there.¡± Once Calaf was in, Jelena returned to the fire as it gradually wound down. ¡°This fire was made with your bunkmate¡¯s Menu,¡± Enkidu said with a faint hint of annoyance. ¡°It lasts a set amount of time and then wanes on a schedule. No amount of smoking will rekindle it, not without a new fuel source, but then it¡¯s a different fire altogether.¡± Jelena chuckled. ¡°The System comes with strings attached. Anyway, figured we¡¯d head up north a ways, hit some smaller reliquaries off the path, and then head down around Firefield or the Delta to sell it all. Avoid the usual Arbiter hot spots and we¡¯ll be home free.¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite the haul,¡± Enkidu grumbled. ¡°We¡¯ve got two Menu-compatible members who can carry it for us.¡± Jelena shrugged. ¡°Praise be the Interface.¡± The last of the fire died down to embers. ¡°Hey,¡± Jelena continued. ¡°If you need anything, say it now. Our newest recruit will be tied up for the rest of the night.¡± Enkidu only scowled. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± Enkidu rose. ¡°I shall patrol the perimeter.¡± It was what he did every night. Come morning, Jelena and company always found him in his tent, though how much actual sleep Enkidu needed remained ambiguous. ¡°As you wish. Can¡¯t imagine getting ambushed this far out.¡± Jelena moseyed over to the tent. ¡°Still, I¡¯ll try to be quiet.¡± The one-eyed relic thief ducked into the tent for the night. They weren¡¯t that quiet.
Calaf rubbed along his wrists, nuzzled deep in the pair¡¯s shared bunk. Jelena, dashing relic thief (and the Squire¡¯s former bounty), lay nuzzled against his shoulder. ¡°Ah.¡± She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to ground herself. ¡°You, whew~ got something on your mind, dear?¡± ¡°How can you tell?¡± Calaf let his head rest on a plushy dire-goose pillow. ¡°Usually, I have to drop a reminder about how I killed that pryor to get you that worked up.¡± Jelena closed her eye as her lips curved upwards. She often kept the eyepatch on, after retiring to bed but before going to sleep. In truth, Calaf preferred gazing back at her full unobstructed face even with the scarring and the shattered imprint of the System Brand on her clouded pupil. But it felt impolite to pry. Jelena was hardly self-conscious about her scoured Brand; she often let the wound air out sans eyepatch on the trail. Losing the Brand though. Even if he were somewhat lapsed and hardly a devout thrice-weekly devotee of the Church of the Menu, Calaf couldn¡¯t help but wince at the thought. He found himself rubbing his arm again. His Brand tingled, a bit below the wrist. ¡°You leveled up, didn¡¯t you?¡± Jelena said, repositioning in preparation for her nightly doze. Calaf nodded. ¡°From that Stalwart. Didn¡¯t know the next level was so close.¡± ¡°I could tell. You get this gleam in your eye for an hour or two after leveling up. Think it¡¯s some background experience bonus.¡± The pair lay still for a time. So late was it that not even dire-crickets were chirping. The world outside their warm tent had entered a still, twilight calm. ¡°Let¡¯s see. Your level was¡­ forty-seven now?¡± Jelene guessed. She sleepily reached up to pull her eyepatch off and placed it gently on the bedroll beside her. Still, both eyes were closed. ¡°Keeping count?¡± Calaf stroked along her forehead with a feather touch. ¡°Mmm.¡± She nodded. ¡°Forty-eight.¡± Calaf craned his neck over to look at her. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°I was level forty-eight. Cleric.¡± Calaf had almost surpassed her. Leveling had slowed since reaching the forties. Each rank from here on out would require ever more experience. Rising the last twenty or so levels to Paladin was not feasible via these early and middle-grade stops on the pilgrimage path alone. ¡°Did it hurt?¡± he asked. ¡°Removing the brand?¡± The only response was a soft snoring. Jelena was asleep. She tended to sprawl out every which way while asleep. But for now, she remained curled up on his shoulder. A faint scar ran just underneath her closed left eye. Calaf rested back against the pillow once more. Just on the edge of sleep, he overheard his paramour murmuring in hers. ¡°Mmm. Gotta remember to forage. Refresh our supplies of silphium next time we¡¯re around Firefield." Jelena nestled further into the crook of his neck. "Don¡¯t want another scare like last month.¡±
Chapter Seventy-Nine: Off The Path, Outside the Law
A narrow ridgeway running along the west border of the desert made for a perfect avenue off the usual church-patrolled pilgrimage route. The ridge was nigh unassailable from the river delta but could be accessed from the north-westernmost segment of the plains via a series of winding dire-goat paths. The posse spied a great dust cloud from their distant, safe position atop the ridge. A whirlwind spun up over ¡°The dire-worms appear to be multiplying,¡± Enkidu said with his characteristic growl. ¡°Eh, let the arbiters sort that out.¡± Jelena shrugged. ¡°Would make a heck of a Pandemonium Wisp, though,¡± Zilara said offhand. Calaf had traveled this side path once before. It was in the charge of the Church of the Menu¡¯s star Arbiter, and top-ranking Paladin, General Perarde¡ªthe Hammer of Faith. Calaf had wanted very much to become a beacon of chivalry. Only it had been revealed to him that churchly chivalry was more conniving and ruthless than even a fiendish relic thief. Not long after that, Calaf and Jelena had become something akin to more friendly rivals on a trajectory for something more. From this high ground, they could see many of the lands influenced by the Church of the Menu. The low, flat prairie on the other side of the dire-goat trails offered a view of Plains Junction peeking through the dusty haze. It was best to avoid towns where they¡¯d just performed a heist, so this would be their last look at the trading hub for a while. Rocky terrain further east and an increasing haze blocked a view of a small port on a sheltered sea. Highlands sloped gradually out of the plains to the south and west. The main pilgrimage path continued into a steam-shrouded wooded copse that marked Twelfthnight and, much further along, Deepwood. A long day¡¯s march would circumvent and shadow the longer, more casual pilgrim¡¯s path. The quartet traveled north and east, bypassing the heavily wooded swamps of the river delta. The same rocky range that funneled water into the fertile delta also blocked rain and water from the Firefield deserts. This journey was slower than Calaf¡¯s previous forced march in the charge of General Perarde. Paradoxically it was also harder going across uneven, rocky terrain barely viable as a walking path. Troubadours had helped with that ¨C low-level Bard classes that had formed the General¡¯s retinue had turned a grueling journey breezy and quick. Maybe Jelena would be open to a fifth member? Bardly charisma could come in handy during a heist. Shielders and other tanks were ill-fitted for a party of relic thieves. Scouts, Battlemages, whatever class Enkidu was equivalent to, they were all fast and agile. Useful for a heist. Squires, Shielders, and the like were built for open combat in heavy armor. Spears were inefficient during a stickup. And the armor made fleeing difficult ¨C hence why he¡¯d swapped out for a less defensive but more mobile Desert Silken Mail (x1). Ziilara had a special class, befitting a long-lost holy heir. Her skillset meshed well enough with thievery. It meshed well enough with any party configuration. She was pretty good company for a moody thirteen-year-old. She¡¯d come up with their plan in the Plains Junction job ¨C specifically with using Calaf as a ¡®law-abiding¡¯ Squire come to evacuate everyone and clear the building. Enkidu proved moodier still. He was a fair traveling companion, mostly because he never talked and could kill anything on the Menu or off with lightning-quick sword strikes. His strategy in all things was to just stab at the problem until it died. And then there was Jelena. Well, she was why Calaf was here, after all. Night fell once more just as they were within view of the desert. Firefield appeared as a string of magic-summoned lights on the horizon, so bright that the night sky was blotted out in a whitish haze.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Jelena spent the time waiting for camp to assemble itself staring out just south of Firefield. Somewhere over the horizon, Japella awaited. Another day of casual marching awaited. By the second night, they¡¯d left the nightglow of Firefield behind. The route ahead fused with another plateau rising out of the desert sands. Lightly forested hills formed the boundary line to Autumn¡¯s Redoubt. They camped between a trio of maples, a light carpet of fire-orange leaves setting the scene. New leaf buds had already sprouted to replace the fallen branches, therefore maintaining the everfall microclimate. It was a land of both ceaseless, romantic beauty ¨C as well as myriad bad memories for Calaf. The posse stayed well clear of the main road, making sure never to venture within sight of Fort Duran¡¯s tall ramparts. Autumn Redoubt¡¯s hinterlands were rife with smaller ruins. Evidence of previous forts and entire townships peeking out between root networks, stone walls, and piles of fallen leaves. Fort Duran held significance in the church as the origin place of Roland, Paladin of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. In contemporary times, the Redoubt was one of the less populated regions along the trail. That was not always the case, judging by the abandoned stone walls and grown-over avenues, there¡¯d once been towns and villages all along the slope, possibly more so than back in Riverglen. Older ruins dated to the era of the demon king. Burnt-over farms were destroyed in recent times ¨C no more than a year ago, evidenced by the lack of overgrowth. Hamlets and farmsteads burnt down in a recent heretic hunt. What population remained in Autumn¡¯s Redoubt was concentrated along trading depots and waystations in the far north and south. ¡°Where are we heading?¡± Calaf asked. Jelena smiled at him. ¡°Far north. A target¡¯s been on the hit list since before the Riverglen job.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Calaf grew quiet. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Got a perfect role for a certain upstanding Paladin.¡± She nudged him on the shoulder pauldron. ¡°In, out. Undetected, unsuspected. And it¡¯ll all be thanks to you, my dear.¡±
Calaf¡¯s spirits dropped precipitously the moment they arrived in the autumnal wonderland, even as they ventured far to the north. Each step marked the furthest he¡¯d ever been from Riverglen, at the far southern end of the route. The nature of this next heist was theoretically bloodless. But so was the Plains Junction job. Calaf readjusted his gauntlets, again and again. A nervous tick. Somewhere out there, Fort Duran was waiting. So long as Calaf was in the region, his mind would forever be playing through the horrors he¡¯d experienced less than a year ago. He couldn¡¯t help but imagine a pair of bodies, still crucified by the roadside¡­ As the group marched off the beaten path, Calaf kept to himself. His reverie lasted until they rounded a hill into a glen where several minuscule streams flowed into an alpine lake. Six mighty antlers emerged from behind a row of bushes.
Name: Majestic Dire-Elk
Rank: Legendary Beast, Miraculous.
Level 98
Status: 23000/23000 (Implacable, Divine)
Calaf and Zilara gasped. The creature remained staring at the group, its twisted antler network looking like a velvety pine. ¡°Whoa,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Never seen anything that strong before. Things from Demon Lord¡¯s Fall sneak onto the ice floes sometimes. They¡¯re rarely more than level 96.¡± ¡°What level is it?¡± Jelena nodded at the dire-beast. ¡°Ninety-eight,¡± Calaf said. Jelena let out a whistle, which caused the dire-elk to tilt its head and snort. ¡°Lemme guess, Legendary Beast?¡± she asked. Enkidu snorted at the beast in turn. ¡°Yep.¡± Zilara and Calaf nodded. ¡°While my sisterly training is a little rusty, I believe each region had a legendary beast,¡± Jelena explained. Calaf nodded. ¡°I know. I¡¯ve seen the one in the Delta.¡± The dire-elk did not flee, for what reason could something of that level have to retreat? There was no predator in the realm that could threaten the creature. Both Jelena and Calaf had some church education. Calaf had spent his formative years in the Riverglen Cathedral orphanage, receiving repetitive lessons in the life and times of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. Jelena, meanwhile, had taken on a more formal education process in her early adult years. Legendary dire-beasts, per church teachings, predated the Holy Interface itself. Their status Under the Menu was something of a grandfather clause. Their exact nature was¡­ ambiguous. Most doctrines treated them as holy-adjacent. Divine signs of good luck. ¡°Well, it''s blessing our heist,¡± Jelena said with a smile. ¡°Can¡¯t go wrong now.¡± The dire-elk loped away at a confident, casual pace in all its majesty. The group continued onward after this close encounter. Calaf walked alongside Jelena, his head a little higher.
Chapter Eighty: Reliquary Smash and Grab
Sometimes the best robberies occurred without anyone on the receiving end knowing that anything was wrong¡­ A trading hub at the north end of the redoubt, where the autumnal slope leveled out into a high plateau, provided the only major resupply location for pilgrims in the region. In the off-season, it was operating as a sleepy highland chateau, all workers and no guests. A diminutive church at this settlement was so small it didn¡¯t even have a name. No larger than a waystation shrine along the roadside. The real target was at the very edge of the settlement, adjacent to a north-facing gatehouse and a wooden wall made from locally sourced wood. Calaf approached a pair of guards standing before the shrine. His spoofing rings listed him as Corvo, a Level 68 Paladin. Swapping aliases and appearing several levels above typical for any given region were essential aspects of any scam. ¡°Halt,¡± said a guard, Level 56. ¡°None may pass. This shrine contains essential holy relics of Fort Duran.¡± ¡°Oh? And what are they doing here?¡± Calaf asked at a normal volume. A handful of Paladin-adjacent doodads were strewn about the ¡®dungeon¡¯ of Fort Duran. They¡¯d been smuggled out, or otherwise retrieved, during a siege and mass purging of heretics at the fort towards the tail end of the last pilgrimage season. Once, Calaf assumed these relics were used for worship and meditation in the church-sanctioned dungeon network. ¡°The relics are to be set up around the Fort in preparation for the next Pilgrimage season,¡± said a guard. ¡°We are to secure this reliquary until a Paladin can arrive to set and place the relics.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°I am that Paladin.¡± The guards examined his Menu designation. One nodded. He was indeed an at-level Paladin, spoofing rings unnoticed beneath his gauntlets. A deep look into Calaf¡¯s Interface designation would reveal the ruse. But such things were invasive and required a great deal of rooting through menus. He would simply allay suspicion to the point where nobody was motivated to pry. ¡°We were told to hold on to these until General Perarde himself returns to place them.¡± Calaf stifled a grimace. Of course, the orders would come from the Hammer of Faith. Just as Jelena taught him, Calaf took one deep breath to refocus, then lied out his teeth. Ad-lib a plausible name and rank to rival the Hammer of Faith. ¡°Well, Archbishop Canterbury of the¡­.¡± Think of a location too far away to cross-reference but of utmost importance. ¡°¡­ the great Abbey south of Riverglen, has sent me on this quest to populate the holy relics around Fort Duran.¡± The two guards looked at themselves. ¡°Well, they¡¯re not supposed to be placed in the wayshrines for another two weeks.¡± Calaf put on a scowl. ¡°Well the archbishop says it needs to be done now. The church arbiters will be delayed on a...¡± Think of a plausible and high-priority delay. ¡°¡­ heretic hunt. The order has gone down to populate the dungeon now.¡± ¡°We¡¯d need-¡± ¡°No, no, you don¡¯t understand. The archbishop says it needs to be done right now.¡± Calaf tried his best to appear indignant. ¡°Don¡¯t you now there are relic thieves about? I will escort the relics to the fort.¡± There was nobody in proximity to run this order by, and if they were they, too, would not have authorization to override an archbishop. And so, the guards let ¡®Paladin Corvo,¡¯ invested with authority from a possibly nonexistent archbishop from a remote but deeply important church outpost, into the shrine. Double doors opened. Calaf walked into the reliquary hall ¨C more of a closet. A set of relics presented themselves.
Early on in his hunt for Jelena, Calaf learned that the left-behind relics of the Ancient Heroes of Yore were used by high-level church personnel to edit aspects of the Interface. Jelena and Enkidu, bereft of the Menu such that they were, hadn¡¯t even been aware of this when they¡¯d started stealing and hawking relics. Here Calaf was, poking through the Autumn¡¯s Redoubt reliquary looking for artifacts to nick. Appealing to authority would get you through doors that an armed incursion never could. As the official stomping grounds of the Martyred Paladin, most artifacts were Sheilder and tank-related.
Item: Duran Knight¡¯s Blessed Great Helm Description: Full helmet. Standard issue, aside from the Priestesses holy blessing rendering wearer immune from damage above the neck. (Invulnerability powers not verified, divinity pending review from the Ecumenical Council)
Item: Holy Paladin¡¯s Knee Guards Description: Metal Shin Guard of the Paladin. Replaced before the great battle with the Demon King, where it remained in a Fort Duran armory until being identified by monks of the Third Council of Firefield.
Item: Paladin¡¯s Fort Duran-Issue War Tent Description: Reusable. A sturdy campaign tent used by the Paladin on the eve of the Battle of the Olde Capital and again before setting off for the Demon Lord¡¯s Rise. Operates the same as any campsite item, but is confirmed to boost fertility and aid in conception for up to two months after first use. Effect does not stack.
Calaf cringed at that last one. Reusable tents and campsites were invaluable items, but the side effects were potentially troublesome. They¡¯d have to remember not to select that one in place of a regular camp. One more relic remained. It was unlike the others, being just a piece of antiquated paper, brittle to the touch.
Item: Scout¡¯s Fervent ScribblingsIf you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Description: Verified but yet-undeciphered scribblings of Nimble Gustavo. Found tucked between bricks in Fort Duran during the late unpleasantness. Authenticity verified. Translation pending the Ecumenical Council.
Huh. It was rare to associate a relic from the ancient Thief (or Scout, the church insisted on calling him the Scout) with a Paladin-centric holy site. Calaf hesitated, as the paper was so frail and weather-damaged that it looked as if it would disintegrate into dust at a touch. Instead, Calaf scooped it up into his Inventory, and the relic transferred into a more secure, safer form. Strange that the church didn¡¯t just keep it in someone¡¯s Inventory, or at least an Inventory-compatible container, for safekeeping, Calaf thought as he gathered the relics. With a Squire¡¯s Endurance, he could more than fit the extra weight into his Inventory. The actual calculations for Inventory weight were complicated, but it expanded exponentially such that even a mid-level tank could carry most of a party¡¯s loot. Calaf marched out of the reliquary closet. He nodded to the guards, then marched south. It was important to keep up the illusion that he was heading to Fort Duran to drop these off. Just out of sight, he ducked behind a supply store. Jelena, Zilara, and Enkidu were waiting. ¡°Not even suspicious?¡± Jelena smiled. ¡°Having a Sheilder around is handy. Church types see a Paladin and they immediately grow extra trusting.¡± ¡°We should head out,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°This ruse will not work forever.¡±
The group attempted exfiltration out of the southern gatehouse of this minor outpost. They stopped, as a long procession was marching through, headed north. ¡°Make way for the Arbitral Inquisitor Auxiliary Corps,¡± blared a herald. The who and the what? The group took up a watch behind a quiet and rarely-used warehouse. They watched as this Arbitarial Auxillary marched in. Rows of Paladins, Clerics, and the odd Battlemage at the end of every formation formed a group of thereabout fifty arranged in parties of five. Scouts wre notably absent from the formation ¨C through a dedicated party of five consisting of nothing but Scouts walked through the southern gate fifteen minutes prior. So, a large multi-party configuration of level 65 and above soldier types, all mature endgame classes. ¡°Hmmm. Well, church arbiters can¡¯t be everywhere. Guess they recruited a small army of random adventurers,¡± Jelena said. Recruiting and integrating higher-level adventurers with three or more pilgrimages under their belt would help prevent high-ranking faithful from gaining too much influence. It was a high-level Paladin from north of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt that had forced the church to lay siege to Fort Duran, after all. ¡°Plan hasn¡¯t changed,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Our route out has,¡± Zilara added. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯ll head east. Double back to the safehouse.¡± A great bellowing trumpet sounded from the north. Calaf hazarded a peek around another corner and saw another retinue coming in near the reliquary storage hall. At their lead was a familiar Paladin in full demon-bone armor. ¡°It¡¯s General Perarde.¡± Calaf turned, putting the wall between him and the general. On instinct, Calaf scrambled his spoofing rings. He was now Caillou, a level 40 Crimson Mage with notably red hair. ¡°Relax. We just have to mosey out the back door,¡± Jelena said. ¡°C¡¯mon, there¡¯s an eastern gate.¡± A bellowing cry cut things short. ¡°The Fort Duran relics have been stolen.¡± Perarde¡¯s voice boomed unnaturally across the depot. ¡°Secure all exits. None shall leave without turning over their entire inventory.¡± The team of four all looked to each other in turn. ¡°Sorry, Enkidu, we won¡¯t be hacking our way out this time,¡± Jelena said, casting a glance at Calaf. ¡°Believe it or not, I do not always wish to fight every time the option becomes available,¡± Enkidu growled. Jelena ignored him. ¡°Kid, got plan C ready?¡± ¡°On it, Hoss.¡± Zilara pulled up her Interface. With a mental check of [Use], a set of smoke bombs arranged just beyond the eastern wall sent three plumes of whitish smoke careening over the forest. Both Perarde¡¯s retinue and the incoming auxiliary corps turned to investigate. There were shouts and orders barked; someone was trying to escape to the East! Jelena, Calaf, and the others then nimbly fled out the west gate. Still in his slow armor, Calaf fell behind Jelena a few paces¡­ and gasped in shock as his former rival, current lover nimbly dodged a horizontal greatsword swing that threatened to bisect her at the abdomen.
Name: Jorge, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Paladin
Level 72
Status: 2523/2523 (Zealous, Fanatic)
Weapons: Great Gilded Arbiter¡¯s Greatsword and Ornate Shield of the Church (x1)
A familiar Paladin blocked the outpost¡¯s lone eastern gate. ¡°Stop right there,¡± the knight began. ¡°¡­ oh, I know this one. ¡®Criminal Scum!¡¯¡± Jelena chuckled to herself. ¡°We get that a lot.¡± Jorge was a pilgrim who Calaf had helped power-level long ago. Jorge and his party continued along the route while Calaf had been delayed, hitting all four major class dungeons and rising to the final class change thresholds thereabout level 65. They¡¯d been involved more martially with anti-heresy operations, being hailed as heroes for interdicting and putting to the sword a column of fleeing civilian refugees. Now, though, the party was part of the Arbiter Auxiliary Corps. Calaf squeezed his hand into a fist, feeling the array of spoofing rings that served as his disguise. There were two more on the other side of the gate.
Name: Gerard, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Scout
Level: 71
Status: 640/640 (Nonplussed)
Weapons: Platinum Gilded Twinknives (x1).
Name: Isaac, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Battlemage
Level: 70
Status: 810/810 (Resigned)
Weapons: Great Spell-Catalyst Zweihander +15 (x1)
Both had upgraded weapons and official, Arbitral junior-partner armor a step down from the Arbiters themselves. It would be another dozen levels ¨C an entire lifetime, with exponential level scaling ¨C before they started donning demonbone armor. Sarah¡¯s not here. They¡¯d had a healer with them last time. ¡°They¡¯re over here!¡± Jorge yelled. Over on the far end of the outpost, their smoke screen would be running out soon. The Paladin held his shield aloft for a shield bash, ready to ruin the posse¡¯s positioning and footing, to leave them off balance for the small army that would soon be storming this gate at their backs. ¡°Where¡¯s Sarah?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Hmm?¡± Gerard tilted his head. ¡°Didn¡¯t want to leave the tent,¡± Jorge said, mostly to himself. ¡°Wait, how the hell do you-¡± Letting the name slip was a risky gambit that threatened his disguise, but it caused Jorge to lower his shield and delay his shield bash. Enkidu leaped at the Paladin and brought his sword down, slicing a wedge into the shield. Over in the wings, Gerard prepped his twin-knives while Isaac¡¯s Zweihander-catalyst began to glow with a spark of electricity. No sooner was the first bolt of lightning sent streaking across the zeihander¡¯s crossguards than did a great silence fall over the outpost.
General Perarde Casts:
Spell: Greater Hush
Effect: Brings Silence to a Battlefield. Renders Spellcasting Null And Magic-Based Traps Inert. Also Stops Most Forms of Healing. Continuous Healing Over Time and Damage Over Time Not Affected. Lasts for Three Hours.
Description: It is said that when the Priestess Mia saw the price paid to slay the Demon King, she would cease to speak again until the holy twins were born. ¡°¡­¡±
¡°Whoa. They¡¯ve put down a cone of silence,¡± Zilara said. Even her voice was an octave lower than typical. Greater Hush dampened every shout and footfall. It also shut down all magic, including Isaac¡¯s attempted arc lightning. ¡°Escape plan D, now!¡± Jelena said. ¡°Magic¡¯s a no-go,¡± Zilara added, with a greyed-out [Spells] section clear on her inventory. ¡°This¡¯ll be the last of the bombs.¡± ¡°Use ¡®em.¡±
Item: Smoke Bombs (Cluster) Description: Unleashes 10-12 smoke bombs in a 360-degree area from the user.
Zilara used the bombs, and the entire western edge of the outpost (and much of the area surrounding the warehouses within the walls) were filled with hefty white pillars of smoke. Jelena took Calaf by the hand and, alongside Zilara and Enkidu (the former riding on the later¡¯s shoulders) the quartet ran into the thickly forested woods.
Chapter Eighty-One: Invitation from the Bad Old Days
They had a tail. The barrage of smoke bombs covered the group up to the tree line, after which they disappeared quite easily into the thick flame-hued forest. Anyone who could pursue them into the deepest north woods of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt had to be a high-level Scout. The Squire¡¯s armor was a minor obstacle. The sleek and light Firefield design kept him mobile. Jelena let go of his hand to avoid getting wrapped around a birch in their path. After which Calaf soon fell behind the group. A blur of movement ran up a half-fallen log to their left. ¡°Behind us,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Engaging,¡± Enkidu said, ready to throw Zilara to Jelena. ¡°Eh, keep going. He¡¯s probably just trying to slow us down!¡± Onward they ran. That figure leaped at the straggler ¨C in this case Calaf. A Redstone shield blocked twin knives. It was¡­
Name: Gerard, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Scout
Level: 71
Status: 595/640 (Overclocked)
Weapons: Platinum Gilded Twinknives (x1).
Overclocked. The Scout¡¯s health ticked down to 592. Vitality was being sacrificed for speed. It was not a status Calaf was familiar with. But he didn¡¯t need to understand every intricacy of the Scout class in order to fight back. Calaf pushed back with his shield. Rather than continue to stab at the stone wall that was a Redstone shield, Gerard danced to the edge of effective combat range and used a new move.
Class Technique: Steal Effect: Steals an item off a foe¡¯s equipment or from within their Inventory.
Calaf felt his spear hand grow a little lighter. He noticed a brunet bang fall in front of his vision. ¡°He took my appearance spoofing ring!¡± The thief ran off, back to the outpost. The title spoofing ring remained, but Calaf was back to looking like his undisguised self. Have to hope that the false moniker and title prevented Gustavo from putting names to faces, Calaf thought as the posse rushed towards a creek to throw off their scents.
Spoofing rings were one coin a dozen among outlaws. Calaf looted a new one from their stash at the gang¡¯s local hideaway. Pursuers could search the trails with dire-bloodhounds all day and they¡¯d never find Jelena¡¯s posse, for their hideout was high up in the trees. The ever-falling, ever-replenishing curtain of leaves provided the perfect camouflage against all terrestrial seekers. Jelena had not told Calaf how long they¡¯d had this safe house, but she trusted him enough to show it off to him, and he was thankful for that. The treetop hideout had four rooms and a central ¡®shed¡¯ for holding relics and supplies. The latter was redundant now that the gang had Interface-compatible members to work with. But there were still leftover supplies from a previous operation in the region. Jelena did a quick pass to confirm their personal fortress was out of smoke bombs and gunpowder. ¡°Right. Maybe one last job, then it¡¯s back to the Battletower for resupply.¡± Jelena cleared off a squat table. ¡°Put her here, Calaf. Let¡¯s get a quick appraisal and we¡¯ll explore our options for pawning this stuff off.¡± Calaf summoned forth his Inventory. Relics were placed daintily on the table one at a time, emerging from the pale blue Interface glow that remained uniform regardless of environs or lighting. ¡°What¡¯ve we got?¡± Jelena asked. From her point of view, the items would have appeared in place from the top down as if from nowhere. Firstly, the gang¡¯s leader checked the Duran Knight¡¯s Blessed Great Helm. He hunched over to get a look at it with her lone eye. ¡°Nice set of armor.¡± She looked up at Calaf. ¡°Could be useful in a few levels.¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Zilara shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not set with defense values or stat requirements.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Jelena frowned. ¡°Yeah. Guess it would block blunt force trauma, but otherwise, it¡¯s not set as armor in the Interface.¡± Zilara put her hands on her hips. Whatever the purpose of the helm, it wasn¡¯t destined as Calaf¡¯s next armor piece. The Holy Paladin¡¯s Knee Guards had the same issue. Some consortium of priests were able to edit items using the Holy Menu to govern regionwide level ranges among other yet-unknown effects. Jelena and Enkidu had stolen a set, long ago, and thrown the level ranges off-balance throughout the land in a disaster that had taken months to sort out. A penultimate prize came in the form of The Paladin¡¯s Fort Duran-Issue War Tent. ¡°Looks ancient.¡± Jelena ran a finger along the fabric. ¡°Still sturdy. If a simple tent was in a reliquary it has to have some kind of special gimmick.¡± ¡°It was the Paladin and Cleric¡¯s tent,¡± Calaf began. ¡°During the crusade against the Demon King.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± Jelena took her hand off the fabric. ¡°Well, I can only imagine what effects it endows.¡± ¡°Got all sorts of weird bonuses to, uh, cohabitation, Hoss.¡± Zilara had a curious, innocent look on her face. ¡°That¡¯s, well, that¡¯s where your ancestors were conceived, dear.¡± Jelena just barely kept the laughter at bay. Eager to move on from this subject, Calaf turned to the last relic in their horde, the Scout¡¯s Fervent Scribblings. Zilara leaned in close, then took the item into her Inventory for examination. ¡°It¡¯s in old text,¡± she said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t read it,¡± said Calaf. The young woman nodded. ¡°It¡¯s an old system of writing. ¡®Liturgical¡¯ I think it¡¯s called. Language has advanced a great deal in the church lands. But¡­¡± The posse (save Enkidu, who leaned against the storage shed, eyes closed) leaned in as Zilara gained a twinkle in her twin-branded eyes. ¡°Luckily, my clan happened to have some experience with this script.¡± Calaf tilted his head. He¡¯d learned little about Zilara¡¯s home or life before she¡¯d been used as a diplomatic pawn in a heretical game. She claimed to have come from far to the north ¨C in a cold and snowy land where dire-beasts were seldom Branded. ¡°Mmhm. It¡¯s true. And while language down here has changed a great deal since the days of our old Thief, here, back home we¡¯ve passed a few scrolls about and transmitted their meanings via oral tradition. Point being, the text itself has been preserved.¡± Jelena and Calaf nodded, picking up on what the girl was implying. ¡°You can translate it?¡± asked Jelena. ¡°Will it require a trip up north?¡± Calaf asked. Zilara nodded at Jelena, then shook her head at Calaf. ¡°Just lemme take a look. I¡¯ll use the Menu so the paper doesn¡¯t tear itself apart. It¡¯s awfully brittle. Oh, and I¡¯ll get you an estimate and functions of the other relics too while I¡¯m at it.¡±
It would be a long night for little Zilara. She proved to be quite the hard worker for someone who¡¯d celebrated their thirteenth birthday five months ago. And if they had a too-genius-by-half plan for a heist, it was usually the holy child¡¯s doing. Calaf spent a long evening atop the treehouse hideout. It was still chilly at night, especially in the highlands. The posse had kept to the desert and delta during the cold winter months. A stone tower rose over the trees from behind a rocky ridge to the south. The tallest tower of Fort Duran loomed, a good half day¡¯s march away. Mere proximity to the forsaken dungeon left Calaf shuddering as if he were under a fell, armor-piercing breeze. ¡°Hey,¡± Jelena said, sliding in beside him. ¡°You did great toady, honey.¡± ¡°Hopefully my cover isn¡¯t blown.¡± Jelena tucked her arm around his. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. There are plenty of spoofing rings to go around.¡± Calaf sighed. ¡°I hope so.¡± The Squire wondered about all the people he¡¯d met since departing from Riverglen on his second, and what would become his final, pilgrimage. Gorman, his fellow Sewer Gate Guard. Jorge¡¯s party. Deacon, still preaching to the faithful in Port Town. Many more had since died on the path. A cocky, grinning half-a-face popped into Calaf¡¯s memories, causing the knight to frown, fist clenched. ¡°Watcha thinking about?¡± his dashing companion asked. ¡°Just, the sewers.¡± It wasn¡¯t quite a lie. ¡°You¡¯ve come along way.¡± Jelena¡¯s smile shone through in her voice. Other figures ¨C Perarde, the arbiters, his onetime fianc¨¦e, Deaconess Charlotte, were faces he¡¯d rather not remember. Another cool northerly breeze sent Jelena snuggling into Calaf¡¯s armor for warmth. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to break the news of our next destination to the group tomorrow. But, well, it¡¯ll be somewhere warm at least.¡± The pair remained there, atop the hideout, well into the night.
By the next morning, the pair rose from their private quarters to find Zilara sleeping over the desk full of relics. The young holy heir snored slightly. ¡°Wakey wakey,¡± Jelena said to Zilara. Then, to Calaf, who was already awake: ¡°Head down to the campfire and prep some eggs and bacon, would you, dear?¡± Calaf climbed down their treehouse hiding spot and approached a cookfire. He performed most aspects of the team¡¯s cooking, utilizing the fire pit with [Select], [Use], and then [Cook] via the Interface. Cooking manually was perfectly viable for the brandless among the group ¨C Enkidu had previously been responsible for cookfires when it was a two-man band ¨C but the Holy Menu ensured every meal was cooked evenly and consistently. It was another benefit of the Interface by which even a novice could cook fair, if not perfect, cuisine. Over breakfast, the group listened to Zilara explain the exact purpose of the relics. ¡°Been snooping through the interior System data,¡± the child said between great bites of bacon. ¡°So the helmet does what it says. Knee guards also are more or less mundane. The tent specifically controls level ranges back in Fort Duran. We could turn every monster on the grounds to level one if we want.¡± ¡°Might not want to sell this one.¡± Jelena put it aside, to a thankful nod from Calaf. ¡°The helmet seems to grant immunity to any arrows that impact the wearer¡¯s armor. That¡¯s any armor, not just the helm.¡± ¡°Could be useful,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°Could be valuable.¡± Jelena whistled. ¡°Tent does exactly what it says on the tin. Though there¡¯s a significant XP boost for twenty-four hours that wasn¡¯t mentioned.¡± ¡°Might be worth it if we¡¯re not in a situation to run afoul of its other effects,¡± Jelena said. Calaf chuckled nervously. Enkidu snorted. ¡°That leaves this.¡± Zilara summoned forth a wad of barely-held-together paper from her Inventory. The pair leaned in, eager to unearth this mystery artifact¡¯s many juicy secrets. Even Enkidu kept a single eye on the table, paying rapt attention in his own way. ¡°So, it¡¯s a treasure map. Just told in a narrative style,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Took the liberty of updating the description. Check it out:¡± With a gleam in her twin-branded eyes, Zilara summoned forth a window facing outward at the group. This was a ¡®recording¡¯ ¨C some strange technique by which she could show off item descriptions even to the unbranded.
Item: Behold the Tragic Extent of Our Failings¡­ Description: I must assume future generations reading this live in a world without demons. If so perhaps we managed to do some lasting good. Still, time marches on, and the rot will continue to fester. Seek out my old home in the Docks, in the warehouse district. Sneak by or sabotage my automation security harlequins, and then find the loft in my old safe house. Seek out my treasure stash. Once there, perhaps you will understand the tragic extent of our failings¡­ Signed ¨C Gustavo, Smuggler, Thief.
Both Calaf and Jelena gasped when they read the signature. A dozen church lessons danced in their minds. ¡°Gustavo¡­¡± Calaf looked at the description again ¡°The Thief,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Of the Ancient Heroes of Yore?¡± The pair said in unison. As for the ¡®treasure map,¡¯ it wanted them to seek out the author¡¯s old home. Since the Thief (or Scout, in the church¡¯s censored histories) came from the river delta, that could only mean Port Town. But not the coastal port as their generation would know it¡­ ¡°It¡¯s telling us to seek out Ye Olde Docks,¡± Jelena said. ¡°The Dungeon of the Thief.¡±
Chapter Eighty-Two: Bizarre Bazaar
They were heading south regardless to find a buyer for their relic haul. It was deemed wise to stop by one of the numerous black-or-grey market outfits that had cropped up in the months since the church arbiters squashed the Thieves¡¯ Guild. A lightly-tread footpath brought the posse on a looping arc around Fort Duran. Calaf never saw more than the two tallest towers of the mighty, forsaken fort. From there it was another half-day down the highland slopes into the bowl-shaped deserts of Firefield. Jelena perked up the closer they got to her familiar hometown environs. By the time they hit the sandy dunes of the northern desert, Jelena was moving well ahead of the rest of the group and consciously had to slow down to let Calaf and the others catch up. As a natural-born Firefieldian and denizen of the rockier reaches of the southern desert, Jelena wasted no time applying her lifetime of knowledge to ensure desert travel proved as seamless as possible. Jelena moved with a arhythmic, halting gait that nonetheless sent her swiftly sailing over the dunes, weight distributed so that she left a sidewinder pattern in her wake. She constructed, bare-handed, a hat from barbed flat-eared cacti leaves to protect Zilara from the harsh desert sun. Tans and sunburn ¨C two elements of the natural world that the Menu did not protect against. Jelena had a natural desert-inflected skin tone to provide her above average protection in that regards, but the adaptational knowledge of old, ancestral Japella proved equally important for thriving in the desert. She had a second, larger hat constructed for Calaf in time. Enkidu went without. Strangely enough, he seldom suffered from the natural elements no matter how extreme. Regarding travel, Calaf¡¯s armored boots weighed him down in the sand, while the Firefieldian make and model of the armor aided him in keeping cool and remaining mobile. It was a delicate balance. Enkidu sunk deep into the sand with every step but powered through at a freakish, inhuman pace. Zilara was light of step and low to the ground, but was still a child. She spent much of the trip riding on Enkidu¡¯s shoulders, or occasionally Calaf¡¯s (for shorter sprints, mostly downhill along dunes). Those flat-eared cacti proved essential to desert survival. Jelena siphoned life-giving water from out of the leaves to drink. As building materials, clothing, and built-in water canteens, it was no wonder Japellans knew the plant¡¯s utility on sight. She danced about from plant grove and watering hole, pointing out which oases were compromised by toxic nihildew sap. So energized was the desert native that Calaf found himself staring. Jelena caught him more than once, and occasionally shot him a wink that left the Squire blushing more. As the posse walked, they couldn¡¯t help but notice an acrid smell like formaldehyde wafting over on the breeze. ¡°Wait, wait.¡± Jelena threw her hand up, urging the group to stop. ¡°Let¡¯s not stop here.¡± The woman¡¯s curly locks bounced about adorably as she nodded at a nearby depression. A series of green plants sat along a steep but barely-navigable slope with bright blue-green apple-sized fruits drooping down towards the center of the pit. A sweet, attractive smell wafted up, inviting. ¡°Go around the ridge of this dune,¡± Jelena said, specks of sand marking her eyepatch. ¡°See that fruit? It¡¯s a carnivorous trapdoor antlion tree. Sides of the slope will be slippery, and there¡¯s a reservoir of digestive acid large enough to melt a dire-elephant at the bottom.
These water-hoarding cacti leaves that made up their hats were not Interface-compatible. There was no [Use] option to acquire the benefits of the item via the Menu. Calaf squeezed each leaf in turn to extract their gooey nectar. To do so after an entire lifetime of handy-dandy use straight from inventory proved¡­ odd. Zilara, meanwhile, had an easier time of it; Calaf wondered just how much compatibility with the Holy Menu her far-northern clan possessed. If her status as Holy Child was truly rare in a society of unbranded, perhaps her every meal was ¡®manual¡¯. Any later in the year and, as Jelena would explain, they would have sheltered under a canopy of ear-leaves in the day and then traveled under the stars when the desert air was cooler. Regardless, the posse arrived at a half-buried ruin on the far edge of the desert. Sharp cliffs rose at the ruin¡¯s back. It completed the basin appearance of the high desert with a natural bowl to the east, north, and west. No more than three squat stone huts remained above the waves of sand. There were archways caved into the cliffs, but these were collapsed long ago. ¡°This must predate the Ancient Heroes,¡± Calaf said. Initially these ruins appeared abandoned. But as they passed the first stone building, Calaf noticed a Branded merchant hiding in the shade. Jelena led the way inside the furthest-most structure. The ancient bricks were made of local red stone, the same as Calaf¡¯s shield. So uniform were they that no cement was required to hold the structure together, not even the roof. Stairwells beckoned, heading down.
A hidden, spacious subterranean basement awaited, interconnecting the three remaining structures and several more that no longer existed above ground. Throngs of merchants and customers milled about. The stairs offered a view of the entire bazaar on the way down, though soon the group descended to the ¡®ground¡¯ floor and were all at once part of the crowd. It was a busy market compared to the desolate ghost town above their heads. Where had so many people come from? Tunnels led deeper into some underground compound. Surely, they didn¡¯t continue onward under the vast swathes of desert. ¡°Come get your level-up baubles. On the down-low from the church!¡± cried one relic hawker. ¡°You don¡¯t ask where we got ¡®em from, we won¡¯t tell.¡± It wasn¡¯t long before Calaf was approached by a curio-hawking merchant. ¡°Psst. You got Unbranded in your party. Does your girlfriend need a Refined Mithril Stat-Scope? What about your daughter?¡± ¡±Zilara¡¯s not our daughter. Her Brands aren¡¯t even¡­¡± Calaf began before realizing that small talk was a trap to get him invested and anchor him to this stall. Calaf examined a hand-held ovular glass piece with a pale-green mithril rim around the edge.
Item: Refined Mithril Stat-Scope Description: Allows even the unbranded to see Stats and item descriptions from the Most Holy Menu. Requires constant holding up to the eye to work. Also requires line of sight.
Could be useful should Enkidu or Jelena have to appraise a relic¡¯s worth without Zilara or Calaf present. Would¡¯ve been essential back when it was just the pair roaming the lands. ¡°I think we¡¯ll be okay.¡± Calaf waved the merchant off. ¡°Keep your eyes peeled for agility-boosting items,¡± Zilara said. The young girl was so short the ebb and flow of the crowd threatened to wash her away. Calaf moved in behind her to block the crowd, enough so that she could find safe passage between him and Enkidu. Merchants and customers gave the mountainous, bearded wild man a wide berth. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A sudden thought came to Calaf. ¡°I know where we can get an agility-boosting relic.¡± He grimaced as he spoke. ¡°Not somewhere I¡¯d prefer to steal from. But if we need to¡­¡± Jelena led the way over to a quiet stall far from the three stairwells. Wooden barricades separated this corner from the rest of the bazaar. A Branded auctioneer placed Demonbone Gauntlets +5 (x1) onto a pedestal. He spoke in a quiet indoor voice that nonetheless carried right up to the wooden dividers. ¡°Next up, we have gauntlets forged by church decree. Yes, this is armor from Demon Lord¡¯s Fall itself.¡± An audience of both Branded and the unconverted leaned forward to examine this armor. For Calaf and the Branded, this was a simple manner of using [Examine] the item:
Item: Demonbone Gauntlet +5 (x1) Description: Heavy gauntlet meant for the strongest and most faithful of knights. Forged in the ancient past from bone mined from the grand cathedral¡¯s base, the very corpse of the Demon Lord. Despite the extreme weight, the sturdy bone protects against physical, flame, and lightning attacks. (Requires: Str: 85, End: 80, Chr: 40, Arc: 40)
Though all under the Menu could examine the item, only the highest-level paladins with the luckiest of stat distributions had a prayer of wielding this armor with any effectiveness. Calaf could be level eighty and never equip this if his arcane stats didn¡¯t receive a sudden surprise boost. Such stat requirements did not bind the numerous unbranded at the auction, though they also wouldn¡¯t receive half the benefits and needed to endure the weight by natural muscle strength rather than Menu-buffeted Endurance stats. Still, at plus-five refinement, the equivalent of having been reinforced, again and again, by master smiths, this gauntlet would offer prodigious protection for anyone. ¡°Hmmm. Yes. That¡¯s a starting offer of five thousand gold from the Trailblazer in the back row,¡± said the auctioneer. Five thousand was chump change for mid-level armor, let alone this level seventy-plus demon-forged behemoth. Another figure from the middle row raised their hand. ¡°That¡¯s a raise to sixty-thousand, from the unbranded to the middle-left.¡± The Unbranded bettor wore the garb of a foreign merchant. He had two bodyguards with him ¨C one Branded, the other not. The pair stood sentry over a hefty chest. Without the easy gold-keeping aspects of the Interface, the merchant had to carry his gold with him all at once. Bidding continued. Seventy-five thousand. Eighty. Stopping just shy of one hundred thousand gold. By that time the unbranded had long since taken their treasure hordes and saved them for other, less costly bets. Calaf received a nudge on the shoulder. It was Jelena. ¡°Go hand our stuff over to the auctioneer,¡± she said, smiling. With a nod, Calaf took off. He nudged his way gently through the auction crowd. One hundred thousand gold for a simple gauntlet, even one as finely crafted as this, boggled the mind. Still, it was won by that original Trailblazer from before ¨C odder still, considering a Scout-type class would be statistically barred from ever using it. A Branded attendant walked to the middle row to open a Trade, exchanging the massive sum of gold for the gauntlets. Just so, the Trailblazer exited the auction area. ¡°Hey, we have a helmet here that we¡¯d like to put up for auction,¡± Calaf told an attendant. He opened up the Trade menu and the attendant examined the item. They¡¯d left the gauntlets back in their Autumn¡¯s Redoubt hideaway; Calaf could use those, one day. And of course the tent¡¯s level-governing features were too valuable to sell off. ¡°Mmm. Sure, we¡¯ll throw it on the pile. You¡¯ll receive the proceeds of the auction minus our twelve percent fee.¡± Trade complete, Calaf returned to Jelena¡¯s side. While he was out, an unbranded had gotten ahold of a coveted Branding Iron, the traditional, non-spell-based way of converting people. It was useless without some church-owned techniques to activate the red-hot iron bit, but it still had value as a collector¡¯s item. The Church guarded these items jealously; Calaf was fairly impressed that the auction had found one. ¡°Next up, a Considerable Silver Level Up Bauble of Charisma.¡± The auctioneer placed a familiar whirling bauble upon the pedestal. ¡°Starting bid, forty thousand gold.¡± The unbranded half of the crowd checked out at this point. Level-up baubles were entirely useless for them. Any glasswork would prove more fetching as a display piece. The only possible use for a bauble would be to pile on experience points for those under the Menu. Calaf shuddered. The proliferation of these baubles had brought the church arbiters down to purge large sections of the hinterlands southwest of Plains Junction, as well as set fire to Fort Duran. All those people ¨C they¡¯d just been trying to raise their stats through the church¡¯s Menu system. ¡°Forty-five!¡± Jelena¡¯s hand shot up. ¡°That¡¯s forty-five thousand to the unbranded woman with one eye in the penultimate row,¡± the auctioneer said softly. Someone up front bet fifty-thousand. Jelena countered with sixty. Going once, going twice¡­ then that same stranger in the front upped it to seventy thousand. Jelena won eventually at seventy-five thousand ¨C well beyond the value of a ¡®Considerable¡¯ level-up bauble. An Unbranded attendant arrived to take Jelena¡¯s money. The attendant was confused, looking for a chest full of gold. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s my coinpurse.¡± Jelena raised Calaf¡¯s hand. Few ¡®mixed¡¯ groups were at the bazaar. Indeed, the auctioneers had little protocol for this eventuality. Another, Menu-equipped, attendant came and Calaf traded the bauble for the gold. ¡°We¡¯ll more than recover the cost with our items,¡± Jelena said. They traded the bauble to Zilara, who used it instantly for the glut of XP benefits. On her next level up, the girl would gain a bonus to Charisma. Most classes possessed little use for Charisma ¨C it helped with high-level Paladin gear and spells, but otherwise was a mere marker for haggling ability with merchants, general conscientiousness, and weird bard skills.
The auction wore on, with the unbranded increasingly dropping out. The gold values were too exorbitant for anyone without a pocket dimension to store their gold. ¡°Selling¡­ Fermented Artisinal Demon¡¯s Blood, straight from the source,¡± said the auctioneer. ¡°Starting bet: one hundred thousand.¡± ¡°Impossible,¡± Enkidu snorted. ¡°There¡¯s no such thing.¡± Demons were supposed to be long-extinct, and more living stone than flesh and blood. The item ¨C and it¡¯s exorbitant price tag ¨C proved too outlandish even for the self-selecting gullibility of an underground black market auction crowd, and it received few bidders. ¡°Next at the auction block, a Duran Knight¡¯s Blessed Great Helm.¡± The auctioneer motioned. ¡°The description says this offers permanent invulnerability from arrows to the head.¡± ¡°Hey, that¡¯s ours,¡± Jelena said quietly. Bets were regularly above one hundred thousand gold now. Someone opened with a whopping one hundred twenty thousand gold. It was¡­ another Trailblazer. Making another bet for a knight-type item that scouts would never be able to use. Curious¡­ Was that the same Trailblazer? Well, he had a different name, though Calaf hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at the previous fellow¡¯s face. Peering further, Calaf strained his perception stats to the limit and tried examining this figure. ¡°One-hundred fifty thousand,¡± the auctioneer said to astonished murmurs from the crowd. ¡°Going¡­ going¡­ gone.¡± That Trailblazer won the bet. Zilara nudged Calaf on the left shoulder this time. He looked down. ¡°Look at his fingers. The ring.¡± The Trailblazer had a spoofing ring on his right hand. Title-spoofing, used to change his name. But they¡¯d skimped out on a glamour ring for appearances or level rings. But it was the same Trailblazer with the same level and class. An attendant traded the helm to this planted participant in exchange for the gargantuan horde of gold. Then, the Trailblazer disappeared out of the auction corner and the attendant disappeared into a flap behind the auction pedestal. A scam was afoot! The pair informed Jelena. ¡°That¡¯s our job,¡± Jelena said with a frown. ¡°Enkidu, stay here and be ready to come running. We¡¯re going to follow that Trailblazer, and I suspect he¡¯s heading to the same place as the attendant who just walked off with all our gold¡­¡±
Zilara¡¯s stats were best-equipped for tracking. They followed her lead out of the auction and around the wooden palisades. The trail led around an ¡®alley¡¯ such that one existed down here, and from there, behind a tent flap to the auction manager¡¯s office. Calaf and Jelena hid behind a set of barrels used to store food for an unbranded merchant. They watched a Trailblazer in an ill-fitting wig leave the tent, spoofing ring registered under a new alibi. The trio approached the tent flap. They saw a trade between the attendant and a boss behind a big desk made of imported lumber from Deepwood. An ornate chair with a large back obscured their view; it was the kind that otherwise only existed in church cathedrals, to be used by bishops and the like. Must have cost a fortune to steal. Jelena and Calaf looked at each other. Wordless, Jelena held four fingers up. She counted down. Three, two, one¡­ Let¡¯s see who this fellow scofflaw happens to be¡­ At zero, Calaf took point. Jelena jumped in right after. Zilara stood back to guard the tent flap. It was a simple tent. Only two flaps ¨C one into the auction area, one into this back alley. The chair swiveled around, revealing a lanky figure with slicked-back hair and a noticeable sag to the right half of his face. He wore a fine garb like that of a Plains Junction logistical-conglomerate baron, but no amount of fancy coats or ornamental jewelry would make up for the damage to his face. Not even the ill-fitting, semi-adhesive porcelain mask keeping things vaguely symmetrical. Calaf summoned his spear and shield in an instant. ¡°Do not let him get off any spell,¡± said the Squire through gritted teeth. ¡°You again.¡± Jelena¡¯s good eye narrowed. ¡°Don¡¯t think we¡¯ve had the displeasure of meeting directly. Though if I understand it you were at our last auction¡­¡± The auctioneer¡¯s Menu designation was¡­
Name: Honest John, Perfectly Legitimate Merchant
Rank: Scout
Level 57
Status: 432/432 (Degloved, Overburdened with Gold)
Chapter Eighty-Three: Grift-Based Economy
¡°You.¡± Calaf said in a low, hoarse rasp. Honest John¡¯s face no longer contorted correctly in response to stimuli. A mask shielded innocent eyes from the worst of the damage, but it didn¡¯t quite mesh with the other half of his face. The left half angled down into a scowl, which negatively polarized the ill-fitting masked right-most side into angling upward in a glassy, emotionless smile. His eyes ¨C the righthand one bloodshot ¨C darted around devoid of any spark or brightness until they gained a flicker of cold, steely recognition. ¡°You,¡± said the legitimate merchant after a time. ¡°Yes, you.¡± Jelena put a hand on her hip. ¡°You¡¯re the guy we sold that relic to ¡®bout a year back.¡± John ignored her. He looked around, unsubtly glancing past the pair to the tent flap. Then, he focused solely on Calaf. ¡°Is she still with you?¡± A gloved hand automatically moved to Honest John¡¯s damaged face. She? It took a moment for Calaf to realize the implication. ¡°Karol?¡± the Squire cocked a smug grin. ¡°That¡¯s right. She¡¯s topside, guarding our escape. We give the signal, and she¡¯ll come down here and break the other half of your face.¡± In truth, Karol was long dead, her Brand scoured. Killed while trying to be a hero far from here and in unrelated circumstances. But Honest John didn¡¯t know that, and the thought that Karol could be waiting for him sparked fear in the grifter¡¯s dull, dead eyes for the first time in Calaf¡¯s short and unwilling relationship with the bastard. Calaf¡¯s fists tightened in their gauntlets, gripping the spear and shield until it hurt. With Karol gone, someone else would have to finish the job. John¡¯s remaining half-face was right there. Tantalizingly close to strangling distance. Calaf took a step forward. ¡°Alright, what¡¯s the scam?¡± Jelena asked, subtly stopping Calaf from approaching. ¡°What? Never seen a legitimate auction before?¡± Honest John asked. Then, when this opening gambit failed to convince anyone, John added. ¡°Every fifth bid is ¡®won¡¯ by one of my boys. They raise the price to twice what they¡¯d otherwise go for.¡± Jelena scratched her chin. ¡°Ah, pushing the unbranded out with high prices?¡± ¡°Impressive.¡± Honest John nodded. ¡°Price inflation deters all but the richest and dumbest unbranded. Regardless, the items circle back to me, and the next bets are already primed to be in the six figures. We have ways of laundering the item descriptions to sell at another auction. And as for the items that do go out¡­¡± There was a rustling at the tent flap to their right. An attendant went flying in, and Enkidu ducked through the opening. ¡°The auctioneer attempted to provide me this.¡± Enkidu flipped a coin to Jelena.
Item: Gold of the Fool Description: Fake gold. Not born of Menuly combat. Entirely worthless to any merchant.
¡°Another classic scam,¡± Jelena said. Calaf grimaced. Exactly two hit points had come between Honest John and agonizing death the last time Calaf had gotten him in spear-chucking range. That spear wound through his gut was healed now, even if the damage to his face was unsalvageable even by the strongest magic. And the conman had immediately started up the next scam. Damn him. Even being on the same side of the law failed to abate Calaf¡¯s righteous fury. He looked to John, the attendant, and thought of all those willing participants in Honest John¡¯s latest con. By the Menu, damn them all. ¡°One last thing: why target the Branded?¡± Jelena asked. ¡°Aside from logistics, of course.¡± Honest John laughed. It was a great open-mouthed belly laugh that proved uncanny and haunting on the damaged half of his face. ¡°Because they¡¯re the best marks.¡± He said between grinning, gritted teeth.
¡°Branded ¨C by birth or by conversion, are self-selected as massive and obvious marks. Even generations post-conversion somebody, somewhere in the family tree was inclined towards magical thinking¡ªand that¡¯s an inheritable trait. Proven susceptible to a good sales pitch. In payment for tithes and churchly living, you will be offered a perfect utopia after death, your entire family line will lie in state in the deep crypts of your hometown cathedral. You will rise up the levels, gaining rank and prestige within the church until you, too, are a level ninety on par with General Perarde himself.¡± Honest John hunched over his desk, rolling a piece of fool¡¯s gold between his fingers. ¡°¡­ All a sales pitch ¨C as sure as any scam I¡¯ve ever run.¡± Calaf and Jelena scowled. They were a multigenerational Branded and a convert, respectively. Even though Jelena¡¯d taken her own Brand out, they were the exact target audience of John¡¯s scam. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve checked lately,¡± Jelena said with a cocky grin. ¡°But you¡¯ve got a Brand too.¡± ¡°Scammer and mark are two sides of the same coin.¡± Honest John shrugged. He flashed a forearm Brand on his right arm, partially hidden by his sleeve. ¡°Have this on you, and church folk will trust anything you say. Any piece of paper or rusty sword you fish out of a pond is a holy relic, and they¡¯ll pay the combined savings of multiple pilgrimages for the chance to touch crumpled fabric if you tell them it was from the holy cleric¡¯s habit. Don¡¯t even ask for verification.¡± Calaf shot John a skewering look, which the disaster merchant ignored. ¡°Jelena, right?¡± John didn¡¯t wait for an answer. ¡°You¡¯ve been around the underground economy for a while. Certainly enough that I¡¯ve heard of you by reputation, even before our dealings.¡± ¡°Likewise.¡± Jelena wasn¡¯t smiling. ¡°My boyfriend complains about you a great deal.¡± Honest John smirked briefly at that last quip. Wedging his smug face into victim¡¯s memories fueled him, and he puffed up in his chair, haughty. ¡°You know how it is. Just one more scam. One more hustle or scheme to make it big. And pass or fail, any proceeds go to funding the next venture. The economy of the whole continent is built on this ¨C suckers getting got by scammers, who themselves are marks for yet greater scams. The economy of the continent runs on this as its lifeblood.¡± There was another rustling at the mouth of the tent. Zilara appeared. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Hoss, we¡¯ve got goons surrounding the auction grounds.¡± Zilara looked to Calaf and Jelena, to Enkidu, and again to Honest John. ¡°Who¡¯s that guy?¡± ¡°Long story,¡± Jelena said. She pointed at John. ¡°Here¡¯s where you¡¯re wrong.¡± With no response, Jelena continued. ¡°With that markup you take from every item sold, you could be stinking rich even without these elaborate schemes. That¡¯s, what, a million gold per year, even without the inflationary scam?¡± ¡°Six million. Every auction.¡± Honest John nodded. ¡°Right. You¡¯d have more money than anyone else on the continent if you just ripped people off the old fashioned way. And it¡¯s a black market, so there¡¯s still a risqu¨¦ thrill to it all. Why not just¡­ do that?¡± ¡°I could, and live like the most lucrative bishop in the church. The old thieves¡¯ guild operated in a similar fashion. But by always going larger and bigger, I get more gold, more power, and more influence. There¡¯s enough money in my inventory to never run out. Using it all would hyperinflate the continent¡¯s economy for all time. This is true. But why live like a comfortably wealthy bishop, when you can instead live the unfathomably wealthy lifestyle of a Far-Isle slave trader!?¡± ¡°I think the goons want us to let their boss out,¡± Zilara said. Honest John rose from his seat. He put both the heavy desk and chair into his Inventory. With a year of abusing those level-up baubles, there was no telling what insane Endurance stats were allowing the merchant to carry so much. ¡°I¡¯m not letting him get away,¡± Calaf barked with surprising venom. ¡°We can do this the easy way or the hard way.¡± Jelena pulled out her knives. Please choose the hard way, Calaf thought, renewing his grip on his spear. Honest John adjusted his glove. ¡°I¡¯ll see myself out.¡± With a snapping motion on his gloved hand, John threw out a spell:
Spell: Giga Hellflaragara IX
Effect: Deals World-Shunderingly Volatile Molten Scorching Fire Damage That Sets the Very Air Ablaze. (INT: 199 ARC: 99)
Description: WARNING: BANNED BY ALL BATTLEMAGE CONVENTIONS, CHURCH DECREE, AND DEMONIC COMMANDMENTS
Honest John chose the hard way. The air sweltered, going from a cool subterranean dampness to a sweltering sun-adjacent scorcher within a second. Calaf¡¯s armor began to scald him where he stood. The one-hundred-percent fire-resistant shield that had saved him once before was no longer in his equipment. He held his current redstone shield up. The fire protection would help against any mere fireball, but with a flare of this level the sheer amount of stacking flame damage outmatched any fifty percent fire reduction damage bonus. So powerful was this overclocked flare that even Enkidu shirked back, unwilling to approach. A miniature sun was manifesting in Honest John¡¯s hand. The tent fabric boiled over, then caught aflame as it disintegrated. The leather backing to John¡¯s chair burst alight. Flames fried everything the light touched. Behind Calaf, some mook of John¡¯s caught ablaze as his mage''s robes lit up. Working quickly, Jelena shielded her good eye with her right hand and prepared a knife with her left. She flung it, aiming as best as possible without risking damage to her already precarious sight. The knife flew true, superheating as it neared the flare. Then, there was a scream as the gathering miniature sun dissipated prematurely. Honest John held a bloody hand to his chest, a knife through the palm. No blood stained the glove, for the knife had turned red-hot and instantly cauterized the wound. The blow bypassed all Menu-based protections and shaved a massive chunk off the merchant¡¯s prodigious health bar. The flare had only been active for three seconds. The tent was still ablaze. The roof wafted away in a haze of ash while the walls, already full of holes, fell to the floor. It created a perfect smokescreen through which Honest John fled. A smoldering knife clattered to the floor to their left. ¡°He went that way,¡± Calaf said, already running. A trail of blood marked where Honest John fled through what was now a chaotic, bedlam-laden market scene. His gigaflare had scourched everything not actively blocked by shadows in its short few seconds of existence. Only the caster was remotely safe. Merchants with flammable materials in their stalls now had open fires to contend with. Smoke filled the high roof. If there was a vent by which it could all filter out of the subterranean lair, it was slow-acting. Panic spread faster than the fire, and the market folded up all at once as merchants and shoppers all retreated for the tall exit stairs. Their quarry ran down a tunnel. Guards and minions were in as much disarray as everyone else, but a set of five stationed at the tunnel entrance moved to block Calaf. A shield bash took care of the first, and then Enkidu rushed into the resulting gap to cut the others down. Vision is still a little spotty, Calaf thought. There were burn marks on his face and, as he noticed despite the numbness, all over his body where his armor contacted his flesh. He cast an Intermediate Heal upon himself to set up an HP buffer, but it only healed things well enough to bring his nerves back and triple the pain. Another heal cleared that up, and after a third heal he was sprinting at full speed. ¡°John!¡± Calaf bellowed mid-sprint. The conman turned, just as Calaf began his attack.
Special Technique: Thrown Spear Effect: Chuck Your Spear at An Enemy (Not Recommended Mid-Fight!)
Calaf¡¯s spear flew through the air¡­ and missed Honest John by about an armspan. Calaf roared, swore, and pursued again. He picked the spear up, using the Inventory to scoop it up and throw it right back into his hand to save precious seconds. A second Thrown Spear nicked Honest John in the side, causing him to stumble a bit. HP was down in the three hundreds range. Still, Calaf gave chase. Again, he readied and threw his spear. There was a clatter as the spear bounced off the stone floor. The fleeing John snuffed out a torch on the tunnel, plunging this portion of the underground into darkness. ¡°You¡¯ll be seeing your parents soon.¡± John¡¯s smug voice wafted from up ahead. Calaf scowled. Just how did Honest John know he was an orphan? Again, the plain but sinister voice spoke, as if reading Calaf¡¯s mind. ¡°Oh? It¡¯s just simple cold reading. Many pilgrims lose a parent on the road. No matter. If ever we have a proper duel, I trust there¡¯ll be no further additions to your family line to come back for revenge.¡± A wave of curses flowed from Calaf¡¯s mouth, so obscene and obscure he barely knew what he was saying. It wasn¡¯t very Paladin-minded of him, but then again neither was relic thievery. Light glared up ahead, stealing away John¡¯s attempted stealth. They were nearing another set of stairs. Which meant Honest John was going to get away again. The tunnel opened into a smaller dead-end area with two stairwells leading up to the surface. Honest John ducked into the rightmost shaft. Calaf pursued, a surprise burst of speed bringing him just shy of shield-bashing range. John kicked Calaf¡¯s shield, then rushed up the winding stairs in a cultivated-Agility-induced sprint. Jelena and the others were just behind them. Calaf took a step on the stairs only for another bright, blinding ball of fiery plasma to erupt around a sharp turn in the stairwell. ¡°He cast another flare!¡± Calaf said, fleeing from the all-consuming light. ¡°Up we go,¡± Zilara said, pointing at the second stairwell. The group retreated up the stairs, letting the flare bounce along the melted stone of the far flight. They were halfway up when the flare burst, obliterating all within line of sight. Thermal shockwaves rose up through the cavern, accompanied by a mighty quake. Calaf and Jelena¡¯s posse were spared from the blast only because they had stairs and a wall between them and the epicenter.
The group rushed to the surface, emerging into the desert sun. Smoke billowed from a newly formed pit in the desert sands. Another cluster of rising smoke columns emerged from the south and east. The bazaar had ventilation after all. Another, smaller set of ruins around the stairwells was evidence of a civilization predating even the demon age. The easternmost desert remained barren with gently rolling dunes. Footprints were easy to track, and pursuing figures were visible in all directions. Where, then, was Honest John? Galloping hoofs kicked a storm of sand as a six-legged dire-horse flew out of the smoke-filled ruins and took off parallel to the group. The identity of this fleeing suspect was obvious without even getting a good look at his damaged face. Honest John held a spear in hand. He chucked it at the group. Calaf leaped between the flying spear and Jelena. The spear impacted the shield and fell to the desert floor, harmless. ¡°This is¡­¡±
Item: Steel Spear O¡¯ The Plains +1 (x1) Description: A spear fluted with an aerodynamic wood from the plainslands. +5 to throwing, +3 to offensive sweeps, +2 to durability.
The spear Calaf had thrown through Honest John¡¯s torso long ago. It was perfect for throwing. John had kept it all this time waiting for a chance to repay the wound in kind. ¡°That was close,¡± Jelena said. A six-legged dire-horse could gallop over the loose desert sands faster than any other creature on the planet. Honest John was rapidly rushing out of range. Calaf readied the spear¡­
Special Technique: Thrown Spear Effect: Chuck Your Spear at An Enemy (Not Recommended Mid-Fight!)
Fluted and built for throwing, the spear flew far. Honest John was just about to disappear behind a dune when the damage notification was registered. ¡°Took off eighty HP,¡± Calaf announced. Nowhere near enough. ¡°I would have aimed for the horse,¡± Enkidu said matter-of-factly.
Chapter Eighty-Four: Hot on the Trail
Honest John fled to the south, and Jelena and Calaf¡¯s group followed. They were headed that way already. It just made sense to explore the trail of their rival brigand. Six sets of dire-horse hoof prints proved easy enough to track along the sands. ¡°Could use some dire-horses,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Would cut every trip in half.¡± They still had the immaculate conception tent, its latent effects too valuable to pawn off. Enkidu had hassled that attendant until he got their helmet relic back. Still, their payoff eluded them. They had plenty of generic ¡®Camp¡¯ items to use in the meantime, still, the tent-relic languished in Calaf¡¯s inventory where it would remain indefinitely. ¡°No matter,¡± Jelena said with her usual Pollyanna-esque nonchalance. ¡°One more heist, then we¡¯ll sell the haul at the next market.¡± There wasn¡¯t going to be another market here in the desert ruins. Smoke billowed out of ventilation shafts, rising far into the air. The columns would be visible region-wide. The Firefield cathedral would send scouting parties to investigate by evening. Already, the less-than-legal merchants and shoppers were scattering to the winds. ¡°He got away again,¡± Calaf said with a scowl. ¡°I have a feeling we haven¡¯t seen the last of him.¡± Zilara whistled, looking south. Jelena put a hand on Calaf¡¯s shoulder pauldron. ¡°We¡¯ll get him next time. You can, ah, bring him to justice, Hot Shot.¡± Sand whipped up by a great breeze moved perpendicular to the group, east to west. An incoming dust storm would kill their visibility. ¡°I don¡¯t want to bring him to justice.¡± The Squire balled his gauntlets into tight fists. ¡°If we catch him again I¡¯m killing him dead. Before he has a chance to scam even a single piece of gold off some unsuspecting rube. I want to tear off the other half of his face and then watch his HP tick down digit by digit as I strangle him.¡± Calaf turned to the group, teeth bared, breathing deeply. Jelena gazed at him with an astonished, I¡¯m-getting-laid-like-never-before-later-tonight expression. ¡°Bookmark that Berserker ability ¡®till we catch up to him, honey,¡± she said. ¡°Might need it.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Zilara nodded. ¡°You¡¯re getting Hoss hot and bothered.¡± Jelena shushed her. ¡°Let¡¯s just¡­¡± Calaf turned again. ¡°Let¡¯s just go.¡± The trail ahead beckoned, enticing them to follow the madman even as a great billowing sandstorm rose in the east, over Firefield.
The party weathered a dust storm through the night with a generic one-use Camp item. Jelena was indeed laid like never before. The once-virginal, once-chaste Calaf¡¯s vented frustrations turned even the hardened and experienced former brothel worker into a moaning puddle of flan. The thunderous fury of the sandstorm mercifully protected Zilara¡¯s sensitive and innocent ears two tents over. By morning, the fire pit was half-buried in sand. Destressed and refocused, the group continued their trek south. Sandstorms masked most forms of tracks. But there was a thin, muted band of footsteps over the next dune. No others could have passed them in the storm, so the identity of these phantom tracks was obvious enough. Honest John was heading for the river Delta, where his trail would rapidly sink into the swampy environs. Along the way, the group passed myriad ruins unearthed by the shifting sands. They clustered up, old towns based along dried-up watering holes and ancient, dead riverbeds. There¡¯d been roads here, long ago, alongside all the trappings of civilization. The ground grew rockier. This topography was not unlike that of Japella, and Jelena led the group through ravines and natural valleys. By noon the party happened upon a loose convoy of merchants, guards, and a long tail of hangers-on milling about, having traveled from back around the bazaar. ¡°Uh, who goes there?¡± Jelena asked in a mock authoritative tone. ¡°We represent a group of traders and customers scammed by that damn curator,¡± said the lead merchant, a bearded fellow the Menu dubbed ¡®Bartholomew.¡¯ Bart was a midlevel merchant type with a Scout class ¨C pretty common for those who hawk wares. The natural Charisma of the class was said to help with bartering with unaware patrons, though Calaf had never seen this play out. ¡°What a coincidence,¡± Jelena said. ¡°One of our number has a bone to pick with Honest John, too.¡± The caravan was maybe 40% Branded, 60% unconverted. Underground markets like the one they¡¯d set ablaze yesterday catered to foreigners to these lands. Otherwise, those not of the Menu were often frozen out of many church-based economic measures.
Onward the newly formed party of parties marched, south in search of their mutual scammer¡¯s last known location. Green gradually poked out from rocky fissures. Plants, granted life by the increasing rainfall closer to the delta, took purchase in the ground. This slow transformation from barren desert to fertile forest was arrested as the parties entered a greying, withered valley. A pit sat in the middle of this depression surrounded by wilted and dead leaves drooping into a viscous pit. ¡°A dead carnivorous trapdoor antlion tree.¡± Jelena nodded at the pool. ¡°Acid could still gather at the bottom. Watch your step.¡± Death seemed to radiate out of the plant, killing everything from this epicenter to the lip of the nearby hills. None wanted to venture near it, so a few of the more enterprising merchants attempted to shimmy around the side of the ridge in search of an alternate path. Honest John¡¯s footprints circled around for a time before venturing in three separate directions. The most obvious tracks skirted the pit then traveled southbound. Footprints. Calaf knelt to examine the tracks. Footprints. Something isn¡¯t right. It¡¯s too¡­ obvious. In the center of the viscous acid pool sat a strange anomaly. It was a thick film like an eggshell, but far larger than any human. Even dire-cassowaries didn¡¯t lay eggs so massive. ¡°Huh. Antlion plant must have bitten off more than it could chew,¡± said that lead merchant, Bartholomew. Indeed, the most obvious theory was that this pitcher plant caught and then attempted to digest this hulking egg. Only, the egg proved too big and hard-shelled for the plant¡¯s digestive acids. The trapdoor antlion tree shriveled and died in its rooted ambush position. What was most impressive was that the egg, or perhaps chrysalis, had survived to hatch later. The massive beast within was nowhere to be seen. Calaf hoped they did not encounter the creature. Unprompted, one of the merchants started humming a quiet, looping tune. It made it hard to think ¨C harder still when two more merchants joined in. Twisting, hexagonal items at odds with the natural environment hung along the slope around this withered carnivorous plant and the half-shell. ¡°Pandemonium Wisps,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Lots of them.¡± ¡°Well, hot damn,¡± said that Bartholomew fellow. ¡°Heard about these on the pilgrimage circuit when I was a lad. Never seen one in real life.¡± This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Branded marveled at this field of wisps; one could live a fulfilling, adventurous life without ever encountering an artifact of the System like this. And here, there were dozens, each a cornucopia of experience points caused by mass mob-casualty events. ¡°May I?¡± Zilara motioned to the nearest wisp. Jelena shrugged. ¡°Be our guest.¡± Other unbranded wondered what the hoopla was about. A few who phased through the artifacts felt a slight chill, but little else. Further in the back, a few stragglers yawned. Calaf let Zilara scoop up a handful of wisps. He gave her his share, hoping not to hog too many in front of their new guests. They were helping to power-level the holy child¡¯s unique class. She swore she could unlock a way of teleporting people at will around level fifty-two or so. As of now¡­ Level up! Level up!
Zilara Leveled Up! Level 36
Strength: 21 (+1)
Endurance: 23 (+1)
Agility: 31 (+2)
Intelligence: 36 (+1)
Charisma: 30 (+2)
Arcane: 45 (+2)
Luck: 32 (+2)
Another impressive set of stat distributions. Zilara leveled up with surprisingly even attribute bonuses each time. And multiple level-ups at once meant compounding +2s. Some of those impromptu scouts found a solid footpath along the edge of this death pit. The merchant convoy started to follow along the raised, winding path. There were some in the back who stayed behind, swaying slightly. That tune grew louder, whistled by another traveler or two as they walked past Calaf. Even Zilara caught the musical bug. ¡°Any idea what that thing is?¡± Jelena asked Enkidu, pointedly pointing at another bit of teal eggshell that had landed on the far end of the valley. The mountainous wild-man¡¯s ears twitched, nigh-imperceptibly. ¡°Something¡­ familiar. We shouldn¡¯t stay here.¡±
The party continued onward to the edge of the delta region, where Honest John¡¯s trail abruptly vanished. No matter, for night was fast approaching. The mixed group all camped out amidst a natural grove. Some merchants, not expecting to off-road it on such short notice, didn¡¯t have proper camping supplies. Calaf provided three extra Camp items from the posse¡¯s stash. It was a minor expense. ¡°We should keep going,¡± Enkidu said even as the tents assembled themselves. ¡°Leave the others if needed.¡± ¡°Relax,¡± Jelena said in a sing-song voice. ¡°It¡¯s the Delta. Nothing¡¯s at-level to hurt us.¡± Calaf looked around the camp at the dozens of merchants all out to get a kinetic refund from Honest John. It would be hard for a conman of that caliber and scale to escape comeuppance for long. But he¡¯d already set half the continent on fire with his machinations a year back and was still kicking. There was that sound again. A low, buzzing, white noise accentuated the absent-minded hums of their campmates. It made it hard to think about further revenge fantasies. ¡±Do you hear that?¡± Calaf asked. Jelena did not respond at first, merely humming a tune. ¡°Sorry. What was that?¡± ¡±Never mind¡­¡± The river delta was free of carnivorous plants and positively idyllic compared to the desert. They ought to be safe here, everyone aside from Enkidu agreed. Camp was placed beside a shallow lake. With rations roasting on a campfire, Jelena and Calaf walked down a narrow stream and found a waterfall cascading off a short, natural outcropping. Away from the hustle of the merchants and well out of sight of anyone. Secluded from the tents and fires by a thick screen of plant life, the pair showered. Calaf unequipped his armor, then unequipped his plain civilian traveling clothes. Unblessed/unburdened by the Menu and its Interface, Jelena slipped out of her boots, untied her bodice, and slipped her pants and shirt off. Her eyepatch was the last to go, revealing that Scoured, milky Brand on her left eye that no longer connected her to the Menu. The waterfall covered just enough space for two. Jelena let the water cascade over her hair. ¡°Mmm. It¡¯s been far too long since we visited the hot springs.¡± Calaf nodded, summoning forth some Scented Gel of Shampooing (x1) via Inventory. The master thief/Calaf¡¯s lover had exacting hair care standards, and Calaf followed her instructions dutifully. The gel caused her hair to cling tight and clump up. With proper drying and detangling, it would regain a volumetric frizz by tomorrow morning. For a further bonus, that constant cascade overwhelmed that buzzing white noise he¡¯d noticed since the antlion pit. This campsite was getting better and better. ¡°Thanks for carrying all this around for me, dear,¡± Jelena said, leaning back into his touch. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he responded. Each lather, towel, and bonnet took up barely a single space in Calaf¡¯s inventory. Carrying it around was barely an inconvenience. The sun dipped below the rocky outcropping. A crimson sunset was refracted in the falling water, bathing the pair in kaleidoscope hues. Jelena turned, utterly exposed to the Squire. ¡°Y¡¯know, after last night I¡¯m surprised I can still walk.¡± She grinned. Calaf got to work lathering up Jelena¡¯s chest, eliciting a soft hum from the relic thief. It was a strangely familiar tune. ¡°That song¡­¡± Jelena¡¯s brow furrowed. No matter, Calaf soon found his face pressed into Jelena¡¯s neck. She pressed herself up against him. Soon a leg shot up straddling his thigh, which he caught with his arm. The pair continued where they¡¯d left off last night, more tender and less stressed this time. Falling water covered the pair, shielding them and accentuating a pleasant warm sensation to the couple¡¯s lovemaking.
Much later, the pair retired to their tent to sleep together less euphemistically. A few merchants were in a tizzy; some of their number had gone missing since that brief stop at the Pandemonium Wisp valley. Still, they were likely just stragglers, and no rescue parties were sent out yet. A few night guards were set, but both Calaf and even Zilara were high enough level to dissuade any delta dire-beasts from investigating in search of a snack. The fires were left to wind themselves down, as Camp items were wont to do. Hours passed. Calaf still could not sleep, even with Jelena for company. A constant swishing of tent flaps was audible outside, but little in the way of drunken murmurs or celebration common to merchant caravans. That was¡­ odd¡­ for a convoy of swarthy black marketeers. The Squire rose some hours after lights out. Jelena snored softly beside him. She slept on her back, perfectly still. Normally she was sprawled out every which way in a tornado of limbs. Regardless, Calaf got up slowly and let her be, closing the tent flap behind him. It was a lightless, moonless night. The grove was quiet and still. Both Zilara and Enkidu¡¯s tents remained dark, their occupants asleep. Many more tents from the other campsites were lightless, their fires only embers. Despite all the noise earlier, the camp felt downright abandoned. With the fires out and the grove dark, Calaf strolled near the pond and basked in the aural din of the surrounding swamps. A low, melodious hum wafted down from the canopy. The song was familiar and inviting. It looped around itself, constantly reiterating while never maintaining a set pitch. Still, Calaf dare not sleep. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking about this second run-in with Honest John. No sooner had he escaped to the far edges of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt had that conman traveled south a ways and started running new, slightly lower-profile scams under the church¡¯s radar. Escaping round one by the skin of Honest John¡¯s crooked teeth was insulting enough. To gallop away with most of his health intact in a second bout left Calaf¡¯s blood boiling. He tried to summon some memory of his dealings with Honest John to help determine where the dastard would slink off to next. Port Town, maybe, but that was one of the larger cities on the continent. To make it into the delta¡¯s fertile swampy terrain was to disappear. Something about the mad conman¡¯s escape path didn¡¯t mesh right. They¡¯d followed his footprints into that valley. It was almost like he¡¯d been expecting his tails to walk right into the dead antlion tree pit. Nobody was that dumb. Why would Honest John lead them here? Though he tried brainstorming leads out of the ether, Calaf¡¯s mind drew a blank. He couldn¡¯t help but get thrown off by that stupid, constant song. Everything was louder this time. When did it start? It had first been heard¡­ at least before their shower. Before they found that strange cocoon and the dead carnivorous plant? By the Menu, Calaf swore he¡¯d been hearing it all day. An otherworldly tune wafted over the landscape, drowning out the natural chirps of the swamp. At once familiar and wholly alien, it commanded attention. Calaf¡¯s skin crawled, though he didn¡¯t realize why. Where is everyone? No guards were on shift, and the merchant camps were eerily quiet. Any convoy of this size had at least one person keeping a fire going and booze flowing. But it was as if everyone had vanished. Not just people ¨C but even the bugs and dire-toads had fallen silent. All the while, that song grew louder still. There was a rustle by the tent flap. Calaf turned to see the dim silhouette of someone he was by now intimately familiar with. ¡°Jelena?¡± he tilted his head. But Jelena ignored him. She stepped over to, then around, the long-extinguished fire pit. Calaf approached cautiously. Even in moonless darkness, the Squire could make out Jelena¡¯s mismatched eyes: one cloudy, one hazel. They were both dull and unfocused, but wide open. Jelena was dressed in her loose-fitting and mildly revealing white undershirt with accompanying short pants, which she was only wearing for privacy reasons now that they had company. It was not something even Jelena would usually prance around wearing outside the tent. Onward, the song beckoned. Resist! A notification appeared in Calaf¡¯s Interface. He took a step back. There was a status effect afoot, here. But what? The melody continued as a low background hum drowned out noise and thoughts. Again, a ¡®Resist!¡¯ notification blared. Awake, alert, and now expecting something sinister, it would take more than some low background miasma or tune to affect a well-leveled Squire. But Jelena was without the Menu and had been deep asleep for hours. And without an Interface designation, there was no way of telling what effect this song ¨C yes, for it had to be caused by the enticing song ¨C was having on the relic thief. Calaf shot one last look at his former rival, current lover. She had a faint smile on her pursed lips as if she were drifting away under a pleasant dream. Again, the tune seemed so instinctually familiar yet alien to him that Calaf¡¯s neck hairs stood on end. Jelena carried on through the now-abandoned merchant camps, deaf to Calaf¡¯s increasingly fraught cries in her wake. ¡°Jelena. Jelena!¡± The tune shifted, purposeful and directionally. Jelena followed it, one foot in front of the other. She stumbled about in somnambulist stupor as the song beckoned her north and east. Her footprints in the sand joined dozens of others returning into the deep desert. All the while, she mindlessly hummed that alien, arhythmic song...
Chapter Eighty-Five: Demon of Song
The furthest-right tent in the camp opened up. Zilara was about. Only now, the holy child had that same glazed-over countenance. Unlike Jelena, however, Zilara possessed an Interface designation¡­
Name: Zilara, Holy Child (Piper Demon¡¯s)
Rank: (Custom Class: Divine Bloodline)
Level 36
Status: 99/99 (Asleep, Summoned Hither)
Weapons: - Basic Interfacing Catalyst +4 (x1) - Plain Sleeping Clothes (x1)
Calaf gasped. There was a charm upon Zilara. Asleep. That proved that she, and by extension, Jelena and the rest of the camp, were still blissfully in slumber even as they rose and walked into the desert. Summoned Hither. A rare status. But no pinnacle-leveled INT stats were required to surmise what it signified. The caster of that charm was calling its victims closer. The source of the charm sent a bloodline-instinctual chill through every vein. Ancient fears resurfaced, vestigial terror buried in some furtive part of the human psyche, dormant but never forgotten. ¡°D-demon! Demon!¡± The Squire stammered. The cry wafted out into the moonless night. None responded, for none remained unenthralled in the camp to heed the warning. Calaf¡¯s words were drowned out by the constant rhythmic hum from over the dunes. In an oblivious daze, Zilara turned at a right angle and walked towards the edge of camp. She was destined to follow the same route as Jelena, now well on her way to the northern dunes. No sooner did the sleepwalking holy child pass the leftmost tent however did the tent flap burst open. A blur tackled Zilara into the soft grass. ¡°Restrain her.¡± Enkidu¡¯s signature growl was, for once, a relief. ¡°Tie her in her sleeping bunk. Otherwise, she¡¯ll keep attempting to return to the source of this damnable screeching.¡±
They left charmed Zilara in her sleeping cot. She was tied up securely in her bunk, only her face visible. The holy child wouldn¡¯t be going anywhere. Good, as if they let her feet touch the ground even once, she would try to take off again. She remained in her tent, restrained, looking upwards, asleep but with eyes wide open. ¡°The Interface. What Demon is it?¡± Enkidu asked. ¡°Tell me. Hurry. Depending on subtype, we may have little time.¡± ¡°H-how did you know?¡± Calaf took a deep breath to stave off panic. ¡°Piper. It said, ¡®Piper Demon¡¯s¡¯ next to Zilara¡¯s name. As if¡­ possessing ownership. Just like when under charm.¡± Enkidu let out a rough exhale that showcased a pair of filed-sharp incisors. He reached back into his tent and retrieved his blade. Then, he pulled the entrance to Zilara¡¯s tent as tight as the fabric would allow, sealing it shut with two pulled-taught strings. ¡°Can we leave her in this state?¡± Calaf asked. Hairs on the back of his neck were still standing upright. ¡°Unless you want to use her as bait. Let her walk out into the desert and lead us to the source of this accursed tune.¡± Enkidu stared dead-eyed at Calaf. ¡°She is short and walks slow. That would take some time.¡± Time Jelena may not have. ¡°What about animals? Predators?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°We could light the fire. But an untended campfire risks burning the tent down with her inside.¡± Enkidu said. True. The ¡®Camp¡¯ inventory item came with a fire that put itself out after a few hours, as safely and responsibly as possible. But a manually gathered or relit fire would be less reliable. Calaf waffled, unsure what to do. ¡°A handful of people remain in the other tents,¡± Enkidu said with an impatient huff. ¡°Most are under charm but haven¡¯t been summoned yet. These merchants have meat on their bones. Dire-beasts will eat them first.¡± That wasn¡¯t helping. Enkidu provided no reaction to Calaf¡¯s piteous gaze. The pair found the only two merchants left who didn¡¯t have a ¡®Piper Demon¡¯s¡¯ title to signify their enthrallment to some fell, malevolent entity from centuries past. This pair could barely function from grogginess, but Calaf relit the nearest campfire with a well-applied fire spear. ¡°Stay here and guard the camp. If we¡¯re not back by morning, flee for Port Town,¡± the Squire ordered, stern. Now reasonably certain that Zilara and the few who remained entranced in their cots were not about to be eaten by wandering dire-cassowaries, Calaf and Enkidu set out over the desert.
Demons. Direct extensions of the Demon King¡¯s will ¨C its eyes and ears in the world. Even a single demon was stronger than any human unblessed with the holy powers of the sacred Menu. Higher-ranking demons could slay armies unaided. They are supposed to be extinct. Calaf shuddered at the implications. Evidently not. In the old days, remembered only in the annals of Church history, these fiends terrorized, consumed, and otherwise enslaved humanity as the vanguard servants of the indomitable and implacable Demon King. Now the old lord¡¯s dry, dead bones made up the grand and most holy Archcathedral of the Menu. Any demons should have been cast to the winds, rudderless and without leadership, centuries ago. A crusade or two hunted the remnants to extinction in this land. Any demon that survived the hunting years would necessarily be expertly hidden or obscenely powerful. ¡°A Piper Demon. Collector of bodies. Unbranded are especially susceptible to its call.¡± Enkidu marched quickly through the sands. ¡°That¡¯s the purpose of the song. Jelena wouldn¡¯t have noticed anything was awry. Zilara maybe, if she paid attention to her interface as the charm set in. But she was fast asleep all night.¡± Calaf could barely keep up with the lanky giant''s massive strides. ¡°Lure in those without the Brand for¡­ sorting.¡± Enkidu punctuated this with a fang-bearing growl quite like a dire-hound. ¡°Branded are resistant, but not immune. Your Priestess never discovered the formula; she had little experience with charms. It¡¯s some compounding combination of Effect Resistance, awareness via the Agility stat, and Arcane. Not important. Your Endurance gave you a boost. That¡¯s why you¡¯re not marching out there with her. Lucky you.¡± Footprints in the sand proved easy enough to track. Jelena¡¯s were soon joined by dozens of others who¡¯d been called ahead earlier. The pair caught up with Jelena in due time. She walked onward at a casual but consistent pace, arms barely moving at her side in a most unnatural gait. ¡°Jelena.¡± Calaf waved his gauntlet in front of her face, to no reaction. ¡°Jelena!¡± ¡°A wasted effort.¡± Enkidu walked ahead of her. ¡°Stopping the song will prevent the victims from following it back to the source, at least.¡± ¡°How do we wake her up?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Kill the demon.¡± Guilt and shame pooled in Calaf¡¯s gut. Jelena and the Squire had been engaged in passionate sunset standing waterfall sex mere hours before! Now she was trapped under indefinite demonic thralldom. He should have noticed that the song was already bringing her under its sway when they¡¯d first made camp. They should have listened to Enkidu¡¯s warning. Calaf was the team tank and protector - but what could he do to shield against an arcane spell of this size and scope? Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Enkidu easily outpaced both the sleepwalking Jelena and worry-wart Calaf. The route led across a tall dune in the distance, so large it blocked out the stars on the horizon. But at the Squire¡¯s insistence, they slowed to walk alongside her. They looked almost like their usual group, save that their infamous relic thief was wearing one layer above underwear and sleepwalking obliviously to her doom. ¡°The demon will have been dormant since your Paladin landed his mutually assured destructive blow,¡± Enkidu said in what counted as a whisper for him. ¡°Asleep, cocooned, waiting for programming that can no longer come. It¡¯s probably gone feral, carrying on its last provided mission. Was there an Interface designation to this song?¡± ¡°No. I received a Resist notification, but no song or spell description.¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s not Branded. It reincarnated, likely several times, until the lord¡¯s shackle was entirely erased. That makes it less predictable. With the Interface, its moveset would be simple enough ¨C eat, eviscerate, ensnare, enslave. After centuries of evolution, who knows what else it can do.¡± Each revelation boggled Calaf¡¯s mind. Could a vile, unholy demon even be Branded? Even though Calaf hadn¡¯t set foot in a church except to rob it since pursuing this sinful lifestyle with Jelena, Brands were meant to be holy symbols of righteousness. The very divine System by which humans threw off the yolk of demonic slavery and slayed the Demon King in the age of ancient heroes. His church education from back in the orphanage scoffed at the very concept of a demon using the Holy Menu. ¡°Demons do not learn aside from firsthand observation. They do not make inferences.¡± Enkidu looked up to the sky. He masked a faint snarl, flashing a fang-sharp incisor. ¡°They will never dream or possess what you would call an imagination. More specialized appendages for the Lord to utilize than true, living organisms. What they can do is evolve. Reincarnate, is perhaps a more accurate nomenclature. This one will have molted over in a cocoon. It will have imitated anything it happened to touch or consume while in its chrysalis.¡± Onward, Jelena walked. They were at the foot of the dune, and she wasted no time securing her footing. Calaf frowned, casting a piteous look at the fate of his partner. He followed, wondering what could have been done to avoid the Piper Demons¡¯ snare. ¡°How do you know all this?¡± the Squire asked Enkidu, incredulous. Enkidu did not respond. This was knowledge befitting an archbishop, or perhaps a high-level monster-hunting Battlemage of the Battletower. Both careers would require a Brand and a level north of eighty. Enkidu possessed neither and indeed had never been Branded at all. Calaf raised an eyebrow as they began to climb up the desert¡¯s largest dune yet.
Calaf¡¯s knowledge of demons came from the good Pryor Yordan¡¯s many lessons to the Riverglen orphanage. He had a mental image of a horned, fat creature with stunted wings and a great rebar club with which to punish the brandless. As they climbed the dune, they ran into some others from camp who¡¯d succumbed to the song. These stragglers were likewise under the song¡¯s sway but were having trouble scaling the lip of the dune. Spared, temporarily, by their natural lack of dexterity. Calaf patted sand down in the nearest victim¡¯s path. This proved a mistake, as the entranced merchant resumed his walk over the dune unobstructed. All the while, Jelena continued onward, her path straight and her eyes unfocused. ¡°Do we¡­ need to worry about these people being used to attack us?¡± Calaf asked, gazing upon Jelena with concern. Enkidu shook his head. ¡°Unlikely. Charms reduce motor skills and higher thought processes. It¡¯s a stat debuff under the Menu. The wider the net the more general the control. More people, less direct ability to command.¡± A crowd gathered in a rocky valley beyond the dune. Jelena picked up the pace on her way down. It was most of the merchant camp, yes, but also strangers from far-off camps and caravans coming over the far dunes. In the center there was a great pit. No, not a pit, but a carnivorous antlion tree¡¯s waiting maw. Instead of leaves and branches beckoning na?ve prey into its digestive pit, there was a twiglike stalk with two hands and some shriveled thing at the end roughly approximating a head. The Piper Demon. What passed for its mouth was open, unmoving. Despite this, the song didn¡¯t seem to come from there, rather just emanating into the night air. Calaf realized as they approached that the sound was coming from the ¡®antlion¡¯ pit fused to the creature¡¯s torso. He received another ¡®Resit!¡¯ notification. At least his Effect Resistance was holding. ¡°You may wish to hang back,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°I won¡¯t leave her.¡± Calaf tried in vain to take Jelena¡¯s hand as she continued her steady march. ¡°If she is summoned down that pit you won¡¯t have a choice.¡± Jelena came to a stop at the back of the gathering. She stood between two figures ¨C a Branded and an unbranded ¨C both in light armor. They were the original watch shift for the camp, Calaf realized. Spirited away alongside those they were meant to guard. Up ahead, an unbranded stepped forward¡­ and was picked up by the spindly frame of the Piper Demon. It turned its sleepwalking victim about, examining it like a doll. Then, it leaned down and placed the man carefully into the modified antlion pit. Then it repeated the movement with another victim. ¡°It¡¯s prioritizing unbranded,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Meaning Jelena has little time. Stay with her, block her from walking forward if necessary.¡± Already, Enkidu had his sword out and was walking through rows of sleepwalkers towards the demon¡¯s ¡®torso¡¯ ¨C which looked quite like a dire-stickbug from the delta. A twisted smile adorned Enkidu¡¯s face. He was anticipating this immensely. With a mighty leap and a war cry, Enkidu landed atop the lanky sticklike form of the demon and swung away with his sword. It took three mighty swings before the demon closed its upper mouth. With a silent shove, it batted Enkidu off his footing ¨C into the waiting maw below. Calaf gasped. The fiend just ate his last sly standing! There was a moment of eerie silence, with the stick-demon contorting at odd angles, examining its surroundings with its eyeless face. Then, from the pit: ¡°Its lower half is mimicking a plant,¡± Enkidu cried out with a gurgling sound that made it clear he was beset by stomach acid. ¡°Fire. Use fire!¡± Flaming Sword of Faith was a spell that would cast the pointy end of any weapon on fire. Calaf used it upon his spear and ran forward. Ahead, the demon sensed some threat to its person and reared its massive, oblong plant body upwards. Three quick thrusts set the ¡®bucket¡¯ ablaze; it was surprisingly dry and brittle, a pale imitation of life. The bucket burned away, causing the demon to recoil from its own body. Enkidu jumped out of the bucket as it toppled. His clothes were frayed but the acid wasn¡¯t hindering his onslaught. Calaf quickly looked inside the creepy plant and saw a dark, towering environment double or triple the height of the outside ¡®bucket¡¯. He recoiled on instinct. The urge to retch crept up, but his superior tanky constitution stifled the reflex. The demon batted its arms about, again in total silence. At least that song was gone, though the line of victims had yet to stir. Then, with a sickening sticky sound, the ¡®stick-bug¡¯ body of the creature detached from the digestive sack of a torso. ¡°On guard,¡± Enkidu said, sword out in a taunt. ¡°Keep your shield up. It¡¯ll be faster than it looks.¡± ¡°Can we lure it away from all these victims? They¡¯re defenseless.¡± Calaf shot a look back at Jelena. A dozen limbs whirled as the slender form of the Piper Demon rushed them, grabbing and grappling.
Calaf¡¯s feet pushed up great mounds of sand as the mighty demon skittered after him. Legs crashed against his shield in one, two, and three-limb combos. Still, the heavy redstone shielding stood firm. All the while the demon advanced in utter, persistent, silence. Stabbing with the spear, aflame or otherwise, proved as effective as poking at solid stone. Demonic carapace was so sturdy it served as endgame armor for the Arbiters. ¡°The others aren¡¯t moving.¡± Calaf took his eyes off the creature for only a moment to observe the lines of charmed subjects. ¡°They will remain that way until released by the demon or after it dies,¡± Enkidu said. In that momentary distraction, the demon pushed Calaf off his feet. Enkidu jumped into the fray, sword swinging. Calaf stayed back to catch his breath. Enkidu¡¯s sword proved more effective at slicing through the chitinous flesh of the demon. Two arms flew off¡­ only for the creature to instantly grow four more in their place. From this vantage point, the patchwork demonic physiology was more readily visible. There was the slender build of a dire-stick bug, the grabby feelers of a dire-dung beetle. All this and more were thrown into a melting pot and blended alongside that antlion plant. On his knees, Calaf realized something. They¡¯d been tracking Honest John¡¯s footprints all day. Only, he¡¯d escaped on a dire-horse. When the disaster merchant had lured them into this demon¡¯s territory to lose his tails, his tracks had been human footprints. An intentional misdirect. It was the bastard¡¯s fault that Jelena was in thrall to a demon. And Calaf¡¯s, for not seeing through the ruse sooner. The revelation caused Calaf to see everything in a deep crimson shade. Blood ran hot. He rose, teeth clenched, tightening his grip on his shield. Hymns and scripture said Paladins were stone walls against corruption. Protectors of the weak, standing firm behind their shields. General Perarde had long adopted a more kinetic approach to chivalry. Efficient savagery masked as honorable justice. But looking at the writhing, spindly demon before him, Calaf had to admit he felt a sudden affinity for Perarde''s bloodthirsty approach. With a renewed grip on his shield, Calaf rotated his shoulder. No matter the moral code or justification, he just really wanted to smite this thing. Now ready to go another round, Calaf cast Flaming Sword of Faith on his Shield and Spear, then rushed in beside Enkidu. The collector demon was up to thirty-four flailing limbs. Calaf slammed down with his flaming shield, smashing the creature¡¯s head into the ground. Enkidu kept up the attack aiming more to slice than to sever. Calaf followed up with one more shield bash, dashing the creature¡¯s eyeless face against reddish rocks of the desert bedrock. Calaf let out a mighty war cry and bashed the demon upside the head again. Every swing of the shield, Calaf imagined the demon¡¯s featureless face was instead the unblemished half Honest John¡¯s. The Squire¡¯s war cries grew manic as each shield bash applied greater force from rage-boosted multipliers.
With no Interface, there was little indication that the creature was hurt. Cuts and scrapes along its carapace did not bleed. That barely-there mouth opened out of some crease on the stone face of the demon. The whole spindly creature shuddered after a particularly heavy flurry of bashes from Calaf''s desert-forged stone great shield. ¡°It¡¯s afraid,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Is it?¡± Enkidu maintained a rare defensive stance with his sword; he typically tanked any incoming blows and struck out even as he was hit. The demon¡¯s attacks were too strong to trade tit-for-tat. ¡°Blunt force trauma. Shield bashes to the head tend to discombobulate them in this form.¡± What counted for the demon¡¯s face gazed at Calaf, specifically. Though it had no eyes Calaf could tell it was gazing into his soul. The collector demon rose on what passed for its hind legs. It looked up at pitch black sky offering no illumination over the secluded valley. The creature raised its primary hands skyward. ¡°What¡¯s it doing now?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Stay back.¡± With its ¡®mouth¡¯ still wide open, the fiend was quickly enveloped from the bottom up by a sticky film. This film inflated as it grew opaque into a round bubble. ¡°It¡¯s molting.¡± Two hands poked out of the shell, stretching well beyond what the creature¡¯s slender build would have allowed. Hands groped about over the desert, looking for something¡­ With an ill feeling in his gut, Calaf moved to put his shield between this shell and Jelena. Enkidu ran to cut off the hands, but not before they grabbed two hapless figures ¨C a random unbranded merchant and another figure listed as Bartholomew, the caravan leader. Both hands shot backward into the cocoon, dragging these two warm bodies in with them. ¡°What was that?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Can we get them back?¡± ¡°Too late,¡± Enkidu growled. ¡°Now, we wait.¡± The creature returned to its pupa state behind a protective shell. The egg-cocoon pulsated, as if waiting to grab anyone else who ventured too close. The battle was at an impasse, for now¡­
Chapter Eighty-Six: Exponential Evolutionary Pressure
¡°That person the demon ate,¡± Enkidu said after some hours of uncomfortable silence. ¡°He was Branded, wasn¡¯t he?¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°Curses.¡± Enkidu looked at the cocoon and sighed. ¡°That¡¯s going to make this more¡­ difficult.¡± ¡°What¡­ what did the creature do with those two?¡± Calaf shot Jelena¡¯s lax, entranced form a nervous glance. ¡°Demons are what they eat. It¡¯s going to have an interface designation when it comes out. Its scaling will be¡­¡± Enkidu clicked his tongue. ¡°¡­ prodigious.¡± Above, the night remained both moonless and cloudless. Calaf strained to see even via Interface-based highlights around key objects, though Enkidu had no such limitation. The cocoon gleamed in the low lighting. Enkidu warned Calaf from getting anywhere close. And after those hands had erupted out of it in search of a snack, the Squire was in no hurry to investigate further. ¡°How much longer will it be in there?¡± Calaf asked. ¡±When its music stops.¡± Enkidu said, letting out a growl in the cocoon¡¯s direction. ¡°Burns the ears. Gah, does it burn.¡± But Calaf heard only eerie, dead silence over the dunes. ¡°What music?¡± ¡±You can¡¯t hear that?¡± Calaf shook his head. ¡°No matter. Possibly an hour. Possibly centuries. If there¡¯s no movement by sunup you can carry some VIPs back to camp. They won¡¯t be released until the demon is slain, but if they¡¯re further away they run less chance of getting¡­ eaten.¡± From her position near the back of the pack of enthralled caravanners, Jelena let out a soft sigh. Calaf gulped. ¡°Could we involve a priest? A deacon?¡± Surely high-level clerical spells could lift this demonic charm. Slaying demons was the church¡¯s specialty. Killing their towering beast of a command unit was the founding action of the Church of the Menu! ¡°Maybe, given untold days or months of treatment.¡± Enkidu shrugged. ¡°Doing so would leave Jelena in the hands of the church.¡± Calaf grimaced, conceding the point. The smoldering pitcher plant sat on its side off in the distance. Enkidu wouldn¡¯t let Calaf investigate further until the cocoon issue was resolved. This even though there could still be others trapped in there. ¡°You probably don¡¯t want to lay eyes on anyone currently in that thing,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°This cocoon can hatch and kill us all at any time. At least wait for the threat to go away.¡± The faint desert breeze shifted nigh-imperceptibly. Enkidu¡¯s ears twitched, equally imperceptible. ¡°It comes.¡± Enkidu adopted another defensive crouch. Calaf held his shield up. Still, the cocoon did not stir. Until all at once, the shell collapsed in on itself. In low light only an abnormally long, prehensile bit of brunette hair peeked out over half an eggshell. Elongated, skeletal hands reached out and cracked the remaining shell into two slender pieces. What emerged from the cocoon was an unnaturally tall, humanoid figure. It had inherited the old demon¡¯s spindly stick-bug frame, but with pasty human skin stretched over the carapace. The creature was nude but without identifying sex characteristics. It hadn¡¯t gotten around to completing in its morph. As of now it was more¡­ blank. Unlike the original demon, this creature possessed an Interface designation:
Name: Piper, Collector Demon
Rank: Bard
Level: 89
Status: 2348/2348 (Feral)
Weapons: - Hardened Cocoon Shell-Shield (x2)
¡°How does it have a Menu designation?¡± Calaf asked with a rasping gasp of disbelief. ¡°Because it consumed someone who did.¡± The creature held massive slivers of its eggshell in either hand. Both pieces looked so incredibly fragile, but it cocked its head at Calaf and adjusted its stance in imitation. ¡°It¡¯s adopting the cadence of that which it fears most,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Judging by the imitative use of shields, that¡¯s you. Shield up.¡± The demon lunged, putting all its weight into a full-force shield bash. The shell impacted Calaf¡¯s redstone shield with a dull and hollow clang. The demon¡¯s offhand swung for a follow up attack, forcing Calaf back, lest the creature climb atop him and stomp him into the desert sands. Those shield bashes must have left an impression on the fiend, for a dual-wielded imitation of Calaf''s bash was now the creature¡¯s primary mode of attack. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be level one,¡± Calaf protested, receiving another full-force blow that sent his heels digging deep into the desert sands. ¡°It didn¡¯t brand itself anew. It adapted. This is about as close to the old demons of yore as anyone is like to encounter in the modern day,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Just keep it distracted. Let me focus on putting it down.¡± Enkidu leaped in from the wings, but the demon moved its right hand to block a barrage of blows from the wild man. The creature appeared ambidextrous, with a bias towards neither of its jagged shields. Despite their brittle and thin appearance, Enkidu¡¯s sword chipped before the shield did. Regardless, it was enough for the Piper demon to determine that Enkidu was the primary threat on this battlefield. "It will continue to evolve exponentially fast until it reaches the pinnacle of power under the Menu," Enkidu said mid-battle. "Kill it here, in this valley, or it will rapidly become too powerful to contain." ¡±Meaning?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Left to its own devices, it will evolve until its power rivals another Demon King.¡± The creature turned, hunched over as if the weight of the shields and its own lanky physiology were acting against it. Still, it surfed on the sand to close the distance and smashed Enkidu against the ground. Again, the creature struck, juggling Enkidu in the air. ¡°H-hey! Over here.¡± Calaf raised his shield and kept his spear leveled, ready to strike. The entity turned. Its eyes were a dull red quite unlike any human figure. It slunk over with its unnatural gait and raised both hands high. Calaf braced, and the beast smashed both its shields against Calaf¡¯s own. The Squire held on for dear life as the creature repeated the motion. Tension broke as the two slabs of red stone that made up Calaf¡¯s shield unbound themselves. He held on desperately to his now half-a-shield. With another blow, even that, too, was dashed across the sands. Down to just his spear, Calaf two-handed his weapon and thrust between a gap in the demon¡¯s shields. The spear pierced through the creature¡¯s chest, causing it to exhale in a long but unpained stream of putrid breath. On the Interface, HP ticked down six points. At least the creature wasn¡¯t going to be moving around while it was impaled. Another flying leap and slash courtesy of Enkidu tore the flesh off the creature¡¯s back alongside another chunk of sixty hit points. Now properly Of the Menu, the fell devil¡¯s gap in power compared even to a ¡®natural¡¯ level eighty-nine human was evident. Those eighty-nine levels represented a lifetime of battle-hardened experience, but even a particularly constitution-heavy Paladin would be hard-pressed to match this lowly Bard. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The beast¡¯s flayed back revealed more of that off-fleshy carapace in place of muscle or blood. It truly had stretched a thin human fa?ade around its original body. Undeterred, the demon jerked back, dislodging itself from Calaf¡¯s spear. A roundhouse punch from the demon¡¯s fists felt like getting smashed upon the breastplate by a boulder. Calaf was left thanking his hearty Endurance stat, the sole reason he had any health left. Twin shields blocked the next flurry of blows from Enkidu. Calaf topped up with a heal to himself, keeping well above fifty percent HP at any given time. Then, he watched Enkidu and ¡®Piper¡¯ do battle at a frenzied pace the Squire could never hope to match. Rather than sit there doing nothing, Calaf muttered out a spell:
Calaf Uses:
Spell: Basic Heal
Effect: Heals Five Hit Points on Any Target.
Description: ¡°I shall be here for you when you return.¡±
Piper the demon looked down at its knuckles. A paltry five HP of damage was restored. ¡°Why would you heal it?¡± Enkidu asked between deep breaths. ¡°It¡¯s an unholy fiend. I figured holy magic would hurt it.¡± In an instant, the demon loomed over Calaf. At a crouch, it still dwarfed Calaf¡¯s height standing. The demon stashed its leftmost shield behind its back. Ridges in place of its spine morphed to accommodate the item. Its free hand motioned to Calaf¡­
Piper Uses:
Spell: Intermediate Heal
Effect: Heals Twenty-Five Hit Points on An Injured Target.
Description: ¡°The camp followers. They¡¯ve tripled in number since Deepwood. We¡¯ll need additional healers. To say nothing of teachers. These people need instruction in how to perform even basic functions under the Interface.¡±
Calaf felt fractured bones set themselves into place under his armor. Why did it heal me? Never mind that. How did it use holy magic!? There would be no answer. The same arm that had cast a heal upon Calaf then thrust forward like a battering ram, rending Calaf¡¯s armor. Fingers sunk deep into Calaf¡¯s flesh, fishing for something as Calaf could do nothing but tank the blow. And then, with a snap, Piper severed a rib. Calaf screamed as a Shattered Bone status marked his Interface and his vision turned red. The demon opened its mouth wider than strictly natural and let out an imitation scream¡ªa combination of a laugh and a dire-jackal¡¯s screech. The trill overpowered Calaf¡¯s pained cry. Rather than suffer the fiend¡¯s mocking as it dismembered him from the inside-out, Calaf thrust his spear forward. It slid harmlessly off the demon¡¯s bare chest as the beast continued its manic laughter.
Enkidu stabbed again; the blow deflected off the cocoon shield at the creature¡¯s back. Piper swatted the swordsman away with a smooth motion from its right hand. Then, it ran after Enkidu before he could recover and continued beating him down, sending forth great plumes of sand as the demon smashed a visible depression into the desert. Everything was spinning. Calaf struggled to stay conscious and couldn¡¯t rise to his feet even with his spear as a crutch. Instead, he started spamming his own Intermediate Heal well past his max HP limit. He continued to cast until his lungs couldn¡¯t keep up the mantra any longer and the Shattered Bone status finally disappeared. All the while, Piper took long, gangly steps toward its collection of sleepwalking victims.
Name: Piper, Collector Demon
Status: 2092/2348 (Feral)
They hadn¡¯t even shaved off three hundred hit points. How did the Ancient Heroes of Yore deal with an army of these creatures? They were said to have bested entire fields full of fiends built for combat. Again, Piper opened its mouth, and again, an ear-splitting and discordant song emanated out of the ether:
Piper Uses:
Spell: Song of Regeneration
Effect: Mends Torn Flesh
Description: ¡°Lla wree tnreagd fsehl nad mrfo yb eht meodn gnik.¡±
Another spell, Of the Menu. Only that incantation was scrambled and indecipherable in some demonic dialect. The creature¡¯s damaged human disguise began to stretch back over the areas where Enkidu had torn it apart. The skin didn¡¯t sit right after being ¡®healed¡¯ and, notably, the demon¡¯s HP did not tick back up. The demon took three quick steps, which brought it over to the nearest somnambulist. It grabbed the random desert trader in both hands and pulled its victim into more digestible pieces. The demon¡¯s jaw unhinged and swiftly disposed of the meal. HP restored itself far faster than any clerical heal. Calaf was left wrenching, having only just barely reached the point where he could stand. Even so, he couldn¡¯t let the demon get to the rest of its victims. Jelena was three rows over, and the fell devil¡¯s hunger was infinite. ¡°H-hey,¡± said the Squire, voice raspy. Then, with more conviction, "Over here!" Provoke! The demon cocked its oblong, not-quite-proportionate head in the direction of the Paladin-aspirant. It took another step in Calaf¡¯s direction and then, as it so often did, it found some new distraction. Once more, Piper opened its mouth:
Piper Uses:
Spell: Song of Purpose
Effect: Summons all trueborn demons to resume their last valid instructions from on high.
Description: ¡°Sa eth ldo orld rseceed, lal utms eyob.¡±
This song ventured high over the dunes. Carrying further than even the song that had captured so many. Still, Calaf could barely make out a low hum, for the tune was not meant for human ears. A dull clang came from the crater where Enkidu was half-buried. The swordsman had climbed back to the surface, and dropped his sword blade-first into the ground. With an inhuman screech and a crack of his knuckles, Enkidu ran forward and punched the demon full-force in the chest. The low-frequency song disappeared in an instant, as did the demon. ¡°I just hate bards,¡± Enkidu said, his upper body wracked with tremors as every bone in his hand settled back into place. Where had Piper gone? It took Calaf a moment to connect the dots between the now-vanished demon and the plume of dust erupting vertically along a far dune. Sand shifted, and the dune was all at once bisected. ¡°It¡¯s coming back,¡± Enkidu said, then swiftly swung again as Piper was upon him. A mutual blow sent the pair both flying back. Piper¡¯s shields had finally worn down past feasibility, which Enkidu took great advantage of to continue sneaking punches past the now minuscule eggshells and deliver carapace-cracking body blows. Fisticuffs sent the pair through the field of sleepwalking bodies. Many were inevitably knocked over. ¡°W-watch it!¡± Calaf pleaded. ¡°It can heal by consuming its victims.¡± ¡°Protecting them is your job, Shielder,¡± Enkidu said, moving almost as a blur. Protect them, Calaf did. For what little he was able. He rushed through the field of captured sleepwalkers in the pair¡¯s wake, looking for opportunities to provide first aid. He found that those who¡¯d been knocked over merely fell asleep there on the floor. Calaf breathed a sigh of relief. He returned to his position and guarded Jelena even without his shield.
Enkidu and Piper smacked each other from dune to dune. The demon¡¯s health was now measured via the Interface. Each punch from Enkidu, superpowered though they were, took off minor chunks of a dozen hit points here and there. Representative of Enkidu punching the hard bricklike carapace beneath the demon¡¯s skin. Indeed, the unholy fiend had grown stronger with integration into the Holy Menu. With punches providing diminishing returns, Enkidu settled for grappling the fiend and then pulling. The creature¡¯s arms snapped off for a chunk of hundreds of HP each. Only, these limbs grew back in an instant. Again, Enkidu sheared them off as soon as he could wrangle them. This, too, produced diminishing returns as each new arm took off a hundred HP, then eighty with each tear. Piper countered with an ear-splintering shriek, the designation of which Calaf couldn¡¯t suss out as the shockwave alone scrambled his senses. Enkidu said something ¨C again, Calaf still could not hear ¨C and hopped back. He grabbed his sword, having returned to where he¡¯d begun this dance, and brought it to bear. The bard-demon ran after Enkidu, only for the swordsman to slice a great wedge into the demon¡¯s exposed shoulder. Enkidu hacked and sawed until the sword was poking awkwardly out from the fiend¡¯s ribcage. Reading lips was not a skill provided via the Menu. But Calaf thought he heard a growling, single syllable word. Then, as Enkidu pulled the sword out, two more words of near silence, two syllables for one word, a single syllable for the other. The Piper demon wobbled. Still smiling, its top half fell backward while its bottom half took three steps towards Enkidu before falling forward. The demon was slain. Its slayer swung his sword about, testing it for damages. Victorious, Enkidu walked towards Calaf nonchalantly. Despite barely doing any damage to the implacable feral fiend, Calaf got enough scratches in to obtain credit for the battle. Level up! Level up! Level up! A torrent of experience from slaying a high-level demon flowed through the Squire¡­
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 50
Strength: 51 (+2)
Endurance: 75 (+5)
Agility: 28
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 31 (+2)
Arcane: 15 (+3)
Luck: 37 (+1)
Not at all how he¡¯d expected to ever breach level fifty, but he would not complain. High-value experience dire-beasts were few and far between at this range. And the stat boosts were a surprising haul for this level, especially in the ever-furtive Arcane category ¨C not that a Paladin-aspirant had any use for that rare stat. Arcane boosts did come at the cost of Charisma, which was relatively low for a Squire on the verge of walking the path of Paladin. Even so, the triple level-up did nothing to dispel Calaf¡¯s winded state. Enkidu, of course, had no need for levels and was unbound by the Menu. He stepped forward, wholly unaware and uncaring of the leveling bonanza Calaf had just gone through.
¡°What was that?¡± Calaf asked after he was sure it was over. ¡°As I said, a demon from before the time of your old heroes. It had gone feral over centuries without orders.¡± ¡°I surmised that.¡± Calaf stood in front of Jelena still, instinctually. ¡°But the Menu and the human skin suit. And those people it consumed¡­¡± Try as he might, Calaf found himself struggling to recall victim¡¯s names or faces. Enkidu snarled but did not respond. ¡°Are we sure it¡¯s dead?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± Enkidu nodded. ¡°To the extent that life and death are proper descriptions.¡± Calaf raised his eyebrow and cocked his head at Enkidu. ¡°You want to explain how you were able to move like that? How you knew all about the inner workings of that demonic creature?¡± A sudden wind gust kicked up sand between the pair. The gaggle of charmed subjects in the Piper Demon¡¯s collection swayed but did not stir, with the death of their enchanter. ¡°No.¡± Enkidu tucked his hand-me-down sword behind his elbow. ¡°I don¡¯t have to.¡±
Chapter Eighty-Seven: Slaying the Dreamer
''Piper,'' as the Menu so laconically labeled the fiend, provided only a few paltry slivers of demon bone upon post-battle looting. The Branded demon provided a hefty reward of gold to go with its prodigious bounty of experience points. But its metamorphosis into something vaguely passing as human must have wiped its item table clean. If demons even had a traditional item table under the Menu - demonbone armor materials came from mining, not looting. The slivers of marrow would sell well but were otherwise useless to the party. Demon blood was nowhere to be found, indeed the entire night''s battle was entirely bloodless. That item being sold back at the auction must''ve been another scam. The enthralled members of the caravan, as well as the numerous other victims summoned in from encampments across the sands, continued to stand in organized rows, muscles loose and minds asleep, but standing straight. ¡°With the master demon dead they¡¯ll awaken with the dawn,¡± Enkidu explained. Calaf frowned. ¡°That won¡¯t do.¡± Jelena remained under the effects of charm, nominally asleep but standing at a loose attention for orders from a demon that was now slain. Pupeteered by a song that was no longer playing. ¡°They should be suggestible,¡± Enkidu added. ¡°If you want to turn them in the direction of camp and give them a push, they¡¯ll be good at following orders to retrace their steps. Otherwise, they¡¯ll wake up where they are, confused but unhurt. Aside from the ones that were eaten.¡± ¡°Maybe in a moment.¡± Calaf frowned harder. ¡°What about that pitcher plant?¡± The bucket plant the demon had appropriated and/or imitated remained, half-buried in the sand and on its side. Fire had burnt the new ¡®floor¡¯ of the plant away, which now sat smoldering on the desert sands. The fiend had lured some of its charmed victims in there as they arrived. Calaf knew that much. But nothing had stirred since the fight started. Digestion surely took a while. ¡°People in there could need rescuing.¡± Calaf motioned with his spear. ¡°You probably don¡¯t want to go in there,¡± Enkidu warned. Even so, Calaf advanced. Flaming Sword of Faith on his spear provided some illumination. The acid of the antlion plant had surely spilled out by now. Even so, Calaf watched his step as he approached the gaping, leafy, and leathery maw.
Looks proved deceiving. Though the bucket of the carnivorous plant was the size of a large caravan wagon, Calaf found himself walking back forty to fifty paces without discovering the bottom. Acid flowed in a miniature stream near Calaf¡¯s feet. The fluid seeped from the pitcher, soaking into the outside sands. ¡°You will not find anything.¡± Enkidu¡¯s voice was monotone, from the entrance. ¡°You fell in here,¡± Calaf countered, his voice reverberating. ¡°You got out.¡± The only light came from the flaming spear tip itself. Still, Calaf stepped, his hefty boots stained by the acid. It was well into the cavernous pitcher, double the length of what the depth ought to have been from the outside, when Calaf encountered the first body. A figure ¨C one of the merchants ¨C was glued to the wall. Rather, it would have been the wall were the pitcher upright, but now it was the ceiling. Sticky film had glued the poor fellow into the bucket. It was a far different purpose than usual for antlion plant victims. Typically they were dissolved for their nutrients in this arid desert inhospitable for standard plant life. This victim was ushered into the bucket plant by his demonic master not but two hours ago, just before Enkidu¡¯s brawl. Still, he was too far up for Calaf to dare reach without risking a spill into the acid. ¡°It¡¯s like they¡¯ve been integrated into the walls¡­¡± Calaf¡¯s voice echoed in the cavernous depths. ¡°Again, the demon was not, strictly speaking, capable of thought when it appropriated this carnivorous tree. It merely adapted the plant to its purpose ¨C as a jailer and slaver demon. And with no further instructions regarding what to do with its prisoners, it would have let them¡­ go fallow.¡± Despite the natural acoustics of this bucket plant, Enkidu¡¯s voice remained flat and emotionless as he stood at the edge. Further down, the bodies grew older. There were many traders, mostly unbranded, wearing styles from decades past. They covered the ceiling, ¡®walls¡¯, and even the floor near Calaf¡¯s feet. The demon had garnered quite the collection. Even further back, the bodies were from various Branded pilgrims and church guards wearing modestly high-level armor for the region. Styles and equipment soon grew so antiquated. Calaf did not recognize the gear on the victims he found deeper into the pitcher. What¡¯s more, these dozens¡ªno, hundreds ¡ªof victims were not dead. Through untold centuries, they remained frozen in an arrested, permanent slumber. As if in stasis, preserved in amber the exact moment they were collected. Just how long had this fell Piper Demon been operating? Victims grew more numerous as the prison continued with no end in sight. Tentatively, Calaf approached a pair of pilgrims cocooned together near a low bit of ceiling. It was a man and a woman, clearly a couple on pilgrimage wearing garb from the earliest church age. The woman¡¯s midsection was swollen in a faint early indication of pregnancy. They¡¯d been returning down the pilgrimage route, having gotten married in a rush before setting off and returning home from their quest with a new life to raise. Both slumbered in stasis, having been taken by this Piper Demon well outside of living memory. Calaf grazed the hand of the nearest pilgrim, the male. Layers of grime and film stirred as the pilgrim awoke. No sooner had this ancient demon¡¯s thrall opened his eyes than he began to disintegrate. There was no sign of pain or even an indication that the pilgrim was aware of where he¡¯d been all this time. No HP loss recorded, as his Brand disintegrated alongside the rest of the body. He merely transformed from a recently awoken demon victim to aged ash that fell upon Calaf like snow. Calaf coughed. The better to keep the ash of his fellow pilgrim out of his lungs. He looked to the now-disintegrated pilgrim¡¯s counterpart, the sleeping woman. She remained oblivious, breathing soundly. There would be no saving anyone who¡¯d been captured for so long. But did he dare leave her here, when her partner was at least released from this loathsome fate? The Squire wiped ash from his hair, then shuddered. Suddenly the confines of this biological cavern felt restricting, claustrophobic, and Calaf¡¯s breathing quickened. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Calaf emerged from the pitcher plant, his face and shoulders still caked in dust. Enkidu had one foot on the fat-lipped edge of the plant. A body was draped over his shoulder ¨C it was that merchant, the demon¡¯s most recent victim. ¡°This one should still be salvageable,¡± Enkidu said. The pair exited the demon¡¯s second maw. ¡°With sunrise,¡± Enkidu continued. ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°As dawn creeps into the pitcher plant, the numerous other victims will awaken ¨C then instantly crumble to dust. Demon would have had a way to cover it with a flap or curtain of sand during daylight hours, to keep its collection from spoiling.¡± Calaf reached up with two fingers to wipe ash off his cheek. ¡°Right. R-Right.¡± Then, after silence grew too uncomfortable. ¡°So it¡¯s truly too late for the rest of them.¡± Enkidu nodded. ¡°Those taken tonight will wake up like they merely had an inexplicably pleasant but exhausting dream. Anyone in thrall to a Piper Demon for longer than a human would otherwise sleep, though¡­¡± The fate went unsaid. Calaf brushed another clump of ash off his shoulder pauldron. There was truly no saving those he¡¯d found in that cavernous place. The woman - the unborn child - Calaf tried not to visualize the centuries'' worth of collected victims, eyes opening on their first dawn in decades or centuries, only for it to be their last. ¡°I don¡¯t think I even found the bottom of that thing,¡± Calaf said to himself. He received no response. They¡¯d come uncomfortably close to an early end to their relic-thieving operation that night. Jelena remained, swaying slightly on the long-dead tune. Per Enkidu she¡¯d wake up with the dawn ¨C curious as to her whereabouts but none the wiser like the rest of the crowd. Enkidu dropped the man they¡¯d fished out of the bucket plant. To wake with the sunrise, utterly confused and covered in digestive slime, was his fate. But for the others¡­ Those under the siren¡¯s charm proved suggestible. Calaf and Enkidu turned a few around and gave them a quick push. These sleepwalkers took off at a slow pace back from whence they came. They did this for the strangers lured in from other caravans as well; just turned them around and gave them a quick push to get them moving. All remained in their slumber, retracing their steps in the sand. Some particularly stubborn specimens wouldn¡¯t turn or budge. These they had to leave for the dawn. Most should filter back to camp before it came time to leave the next midmorning. As for Jelena, Calaf took her by the hand and gently escorted her back over the dune and towards their secluded camp at the desert¡¯s edge. He took one last look over the scene ¨C watching the ruined bucket plant, the handful of sleepwalkers still standing dutifully in organized rows, and the shattered dune Enkidu had punched the Piper Demon into. Calaf gave Enkidu an appreciative but wary glance. The mountain of a wild man stood on the other side of Jelena, arms crossed. ¡°You¡¯re feeling inadequate,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Measuring yourself up to one of Jelena¡¯s previous partners.¡± ¡±Well, yes, I am aware that you and her¡­¡± Calaf¡¯s voice trailed off and he scowled. Zilara had spilled the beans about the unique circumstances regarding how Enkidu and Jelena first met. ¡°Worried my raw strength left her more satisfied than you¡¯re barely-more-than-virginal pumping?¡± Calaf bit his lip. His cheeks burned. ¡°Relax,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°You more than satisfy her. Otherwise she wouldn¡¯t have invited you to the group. She worked a brothel, she¡¯s more than capable of wringing pleasure out of any scenario. Your lack of experience likely just lets her mold you into being whatever she needs to¡­ be satiated.¡± ¡±Yeah¡­¡± Calaf looked wistfully at the bare skin between Jelena¡¯s neck and the skimpy nightshirt. She breathed softly, chest rising, supple skin a perfect contrast with her silky white undershirt. He stared for a bit before the chivalry kicked in. ¡°I¡­ would not wish to dwell upon the love life of a fair damsel while she is¡­ indisposed. She¡¯s not herself and incapable of comment. It¡¯s uncouth.¡± ¡±Don¡¯t let her catch you calling her a damsel while she¡¯s lucid,¡± Enkidu warned. Calaf marched in silence for a time. Then, ¡°How long did you two¡­?¡± ¡°I simply partook of her services and those of her coworkers. With that experience obtained and committed to memory, I have no need of carnal relations.¡± ¡±I¡­ let¡¯s just get this fair maiden back to safety," Calaf said. ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± Even having been seduced into a life of crime, years of drilled-in gallant chivalry remained, a vestigial force in Calaf¡¯s psyche. A maiden in distress activated his somewhat lapsed Paladin-aspirant moral code. For sufficient definition of maiden, admittedly. Still, saving a lover from the clutches of a demon did rise to the definition of chivalric deed, to say nothing of the throngs of enthralled merchants they¡¯d saved this night. Avoiding any further awkward conversation, Calaf¡¯s thoughts returned to the demon. If this creature had rooted itself any closer to Japella¡­ Calaf shuddered at the thought. He wondered how many other townships out in the desert hinterlands had been spirited away down the collector demon¡¯s gullet. It had been out here, undisturbed, for untold centuries. The reason behind all those abandoned ruins in the desert revealed itself. Calaf shuddered against the cool, dry air.
Calaf, sleepwalking Jelena, and Enkidu encountered two more figures on their way back to camp. They were the guards Enkidu and Calaf had attempted to enlist to watch over the encampment. The pair of would-be guards stood beside each other. They must have succumbed to the demon¡¯s song and been beckoned by the call, only to stop when the demon¡¯s cry went silent. There they stood, waiting for the sun to pop over a dune and lift them from this spell. ¡°Hey, you two,¡± Calaf said, suddenly tired from the night¡¯s activity. ¡°You can turn around and go back.¡± There was no response, and the pair proved resistant to being turned manually. So Calaf and Enkidu just left them there. They¡¯d awaken and figure things out eventually. Maybe they could even usher in some of the stragglers from the demon¡¯s valley back in the direction of camp. Camp itself was empty but undisturbed. They popped into Zilara¡¯s tent to ensure she was still there. Indeed, the charmed status effect had dissipated. Always a good sign. The holy child slept, still secure in her bunk. Jelena was walking as if she were on a rail back into her and Calaf¡¯s tent. She required minimal coaxing to lay back down in the pair''s shared bunk. She lay staring straight up ¨C again, rather odd for her sleeping patterns ¨C and closed her eyes. Crisis averted. Outside, the first rays of light peeked out over the cliffs on the far eastern borderline. Calaf suddenly felt exhausted. Every muscle ached from fatigue. But he did not crawl into the cot. Instead, he first washed the dust off his hair and face at the waterfall. Fatigue leaving him more sluggish still, Calaf crawled into their tent and sat on his knees at the tent¡¯s flap, as if worried Jelena was going to rise and walk off again. His desert-inflected armor was blemished and acid-scarred. The metal was rent near the ribcage and barely functional. Status debuffs he didn¡¯t even recognize reduced the desert mail¡¯s defensive properties to that of basic pilgrim¡¯s robes. He¡¯d need an upgrade before their next major heist. ¡°Ah.¡± Calaf heaved, barely able to unequip his armor from exhaustion. ¡°I almost lost you.¡± Calaf fell asleep, on his knees, hunched over, his back to the tent flap.
Calaf next awoke in this same position, knees aching and still exhausted. The tent would wrap itself up around noon, so it wasn¡¯t that late. Still, he emerged into the camp and blocked his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun. Liveliness had returned to the camp as many a highly confused merchant wandered in from the wastes. Those who had reached camp before dawn managed to attempt to cook breakfast in a fatigued and confused state. Meanwhile, Calaf¡¯s every muscle burned. He looked to Enkidu, leaning against his seldom-used tent and continuing to examine the chips and dents in his sword. Enkidu grumbled and let out a nod ¨C a surprisingly respectful gesture for the wild man. ¡°Hey there,¡± Jelena said, chipper. ¡°Going to break off from these merchants when we head out. Seems like your Honest Joe fellow¡¯s trail has gone cold.¡± Calaf breathed a sigh of relief. He chuckled despite himself. Honest Joe. Pffft. There was no evidence that Jelena registered anything from the night before, even as a bad dream. ¡°Guess we should say goodbye to the caravan leader,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Y¡¯know, I don¡¯t remember his name. Or what he looked like. Odd.¡± Try though he might, Calaf was having trouble recalling the man¡¯s features. ¡±Huh. Do they even have a leader?¡± ¡°Bartholomew, I want to say?¡± Calaf tilted his head. The bearded merchant had been¡­ consumed¡­ as part of that cocoon during the Piper Demon¡¯s metamorphosis. Huh, come to think of it Calaf struggled to recall the name or Interface designation of any of those who had been eaten. The group¡¯s third tent flap opened. ¡°Morning,¡± Zilara said with a yawn. The holy child took one look at Calaf, noting the three extra levels. ¡°What¡¯d I miss?¡± Enkidu and Calaf shook their heads. ¡°Tell you later,¡± the former grumbled. Details of the tale could last them the full journey to Port Town. For now, Calaf required some food and rest if he hoped to make the journey. ¡°Man, I¡¯m never catching up,¡± Zilara said with a pout.
Chapter Eighty-Eight: Reservoir Dire-Hounds
The caravan remained confused and vaguely unsettled by the unpopulated southeastern desert wastes. But even with their nominal leader lost to the Piper Demon¡¯s memory-wiping abduction, the group seemed to know where they were going. They¡¯d only traveled together to chase after Honest John, and with John long gone, no doubt cackling from the unbroken half of his face at the devious trap he¡¯d set, there wasn¡¯t much of a reason to stick together any longer. Jelena¡¯s posse stuck to their original plan: get to Port Town. Utilize whatever black or grey market services remained after the death (and reanimation) of the thieves'' guild in the dark corners of town, then do another heist. The goal this time was to acquire a relic that would help with infiltrating a great dungeon of traps and tricks. The scribblings of the thief, found and deciphered in Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, pointed towards the ancient, landlocked docks deep in the river delta. The Scout (well, the Thief, if you go against church doctrine) had a hidden treasure trove somewhere in the dungeon. Level fifty was the perfect time to start trying to brave the class dungeons in a balanced party. Any party with Enkidu was more than adept at taking out any physical threat. The roads to Port Town were wooded and quiet. Calaf had hoped to explain the events of the previous night to Zilara and Jelena, but found the topic hard even to broach. From their perspectives, they¡¯d merely drifted off to sleep early that evening, then woke up in their bunks with no awareness that any time was missing at all. Just the thought of entire demonic armies and corps running about the countryside in the old days sent Calaf shuddering. Dozens of Piper Demons collecting entire villages. Flying demonic scouts prowling for victims to kidnap, as depicted in numerous Deepwood etchings and stained-glass Riverglen cathedral murals. And the backbone of the demonic army ¨C legions of ¡®warrior caste¡¯ demons, entirely muscle, more than a match for even the most physically fit human operating without the Menu¡¯s blessing. Brrr. Frightening times indeed. ¡­ well, more than a match for anyone aside from Enkidu, but surely he was not around during the time of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. Onward they walked. Calaf¡¯s mood did not abate. Last time we were here¡­ he¡¯d briefly reunited with Deacon, and then, they¡¯d encountered another unholy and eldritch entity whose very existence beggared explanation. With goosebumps at the back of his neck not quite rising to the level of a status effect, Calaf marched onward. A journey from the desert¡¯s edge to the squat wooden gatehouses of Port Town took barely a day when there wasn¡¯t a series of crises causing problems every few steps. It was the same old Port Town. A distant lighthouse sat dormant during the day but would soon light up with a spinning beacon over the cape. Some squat wooden buildings had been built near the lighthouse¡¯s base. It appears the secluded lighthouse was now the source of a small city watch outpost. All the better to prevent it from becoming another den of thieves, or worse. The group walked along the wet and muddy streets of Port Town, moving parallel to an aqueduct. This aqueduct ended in a square reservoir six blocks from the city¡¯s main cathedral. A fountain well jutting out of this aqueduct would normally be busy with locals filling up as many containers as their inventory could manage. Now, though, it was used only by the thirstiest citizens with the fewest options. ¡°Water¡¯s had an acrid taste to it for the last year,¡± said a local, when Calaf asked. At least two Arbiters had been stationed in the reservoirs for six months, Calaf knew. Surely that was enough time to cleanse the infestation. Unbridled fungal growth in the water supply was one thing. The next heist sat even more ominously in Calaf¡¯s gut. It was his idea, yes. But this would require stealing from someone whose trust he¡¯d rather not betray. A merchant and market quarter sat between this reservoir and the cathedral. ¡°We¡¯ll try to infiltrate after nightfall,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Until then, anyone who needs to resupply should do so.¡± Calaf¡¯s armor had a hole in the lower abdomen. The bruise from the Piper Demon¡¯s attempted dismemberment of the Squire had mostly repaired itself after a prodigious number of Intermediate Heals. This was another incongruent aspect of the previous night that Jelena did not comment on. It was possible that some lingering effects of the siren¡¯s spell did not allow her to put two and two together. Regardless, this meant it was time for Calaf to find some new, viable armor. There was no dearth of armor merchants in the seaside trading hub. Calaf sought out the largest store that would offer the widest selection. A simple wooden sign on the outside indicated the store was ¡°Ahm¡¯s Junior¡¯s Fine Quality Mercantile Depot¡± Wait a minute¡­ The name was oddly familiar. Calaf stepped inside.
¡°Excuse me. Is this the same Ahms that has an establishment called Ahms Armarments in Granite Pass?¡± Calaf asked. The merchant behind the counter did not look familiar. His Interface listed him as Ahms the Fourth, Esquire. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Oh, Granite Pass?¡± there was a flicker of recognition in the merchant¡¯s eyes. ¡°Ay, that¡¯s my cousin.¡± ¡°I¡¯d heard that Ahms Senior had traveled to¡­ Firefield, I want to say.¡± ¡°Oh, that would be my father¡¯s brother. Yep. They send forged goods up here to sell every now and again. Uncle Ahms has more recently been sending raw materials down here. Don¡¯t sell so well, but we send it back to Granite¡¯s Pass on occasion to help with my cousin¡¯s forging abilities.¡± One small mystery was solved. Calaf checked out their wares. ¡°We don¡¯t have the forging capabilities like what you may have seen back in the Pass. But we do have shipments from all over the route. Take a gander.¡± Replacement Desert Silken Mail was readily available for a slight markup to pay for the shipment across regions. The armor had served Calaf well the past several months. But the extra mobility would not make up for the lack of defense if they fought anything on the level of that demon again. Relic thievery was a lucrative business, and he had most of the posse¡¯s coin in his Inventory. This was practically a business expense. He looked for higher-level, more defense-oriented armor.
Item: Plate-Armor of Duran (x2) (38000 gold) Description: Heavy Plate Mail from the Garrison at Fort Duran. Typically Used by Paladins and Aspiring Paladins. (Req: END: 70, CHR: 30)
A heavier variant of the old Duran mail. Perfect for Squires on the cusp of Paladin-hood. And his stats were just high enough to clear the rather prodigious requirements. Calaf¡¯s wallet tanked the considerable markup as he bought the armor. His ruined desert mail would recoup only pennies on the gold piece. Still, he sold it off, then went looking for a shield. Redstone shields were hefty but extremely durable in all circumstances. The blanket block to all poison damage had helped him more than once. Lightning resistance was good against Honest John¡¯s standard operating procedure of shooting out bullet lightning between bouts of giga-flare. But the lack of fire resistance had cost Calaf valuable time once those flares started flying. The redstone greatshield¡¯s weight was meant to synergize with the nimble and light desert mail. Without that mail, such a heavy shield was a hindrance even to an endurance-minded Paladin, and especially to a mid-level Squire now moonlighting as a relic thief. Instead, Calaf pointed to another shield on display.
Item: Standard-Issue Kite Shield of Duran (29000 gold) Description: Standard-issue shield in the style of the glory days of Fort Duran. Blocks all physical damage, ninety-percent of fire damage, seventy-five percent poison damage, and fifty-percent lightning damage. Greatly enhances shield bash. (Requires: 25 STR, 40 END, 30 CHR)
On the surface, this was a downgrade. The stats were relatively steep, though any Squire in good standing ought to be able to fulfill them. Lightning and poison resistance were less than the corresponding desert greatshield. Oh, the fire and lightning mitigation would help with most attacks, but not anything on the level of a high-level flare or arc lightning. The total damage multipliers grew exorbitant to where nothing short of a full hundred percent defense would do. Total physical defense on block was standard for any shielder class after level twenty. That extra effect at the very end of the description is what caught Calaf¡¯s eye. Greatly enhances shield bash. The diamond shape of the kite shield would help with parrying as well. He offered the requisite gold up and accepted the trade window. Coffers empty, Calaf then sold the demonbone slivers for ten thousand gold each. The broken redstone shield sold for just shy of half the full price; the base materials worked well for forging. And so, his share of their gold haul depleted, Calaf emerged in proper Autumn¡¯s Redoubt-tier armor. He maintained his hefty redstone spear, for it would last him some levels yet, especially with more offensive-oriented allies like Enkidu in tow.
The sun would not set for another hour and a half. There would still be time before Calaf had to rendezvous with Jelena and company. Calaf would rather not attempt this after dark. Calaf returned to a familiar patch of wall at the side of a reservoir. He was surprised to find soldiers on patrol, all in regular uniforms. Interfaces listed these sentries as Arbitral Auxiliary Corps, the same group that interrupted their heist up in Autumn''s Redoubt. It appeared they were fanning out across the pilgrimage stations. This could be problematic if we cause a scene, Calaf thought. He resolved to inform Jelena about the new guards in town. Calaf waited in the wings for awhile, observing. They were doing formations in a city square on the far side of the reservoir. It shouldn''t cause any problems for now. Furtively, certain he wasn''t detected, Calaf selected and pressed a fake brick, and a hidden doorway rose into the ceiling. Within, the hidden thieves¡¯ guild passageway appeared renovated. The stone was brighter, likely having been scrubbed clean of all grime. Calaf followed the path into the central reservoir ¨C a path he knew well enough. All traps had been removed in the deep clean. His new armor clanged as he traveled up a rusty ladder into the main reservoir. This reservoir had been where Calaf had first encountered Metzger Cross, former bishop of Port Town and concurrent leader of the thieves¡¯ guild. He¡¯d fought, and been victorious, against a particularly burly bodyguard bruiser named Bruce. More recently, he and Jelena¡¯s party had fought a rotting and reanimated Bruce in this same chamber, when the rot had transformed the entire reservoir into a fetid nest of fungal decay. And it was in this very reservoir where Karol, a forsaken and brand-scoured former mage, had died burning the rot away. There was no evidence of the pitched battle that had taken place many months ago. Burning poor Karol¡¯s body had prevented the unbridled rot from repurposing her in death. No sign of the rot remained in the reservoir ¨C aside from a single orange-hued mushroom, poking out in a shaded area by the waterside. Perhaps the rot could not be cleansed from an area so easily. Still, there was no horde of undead and no nest of fungus waiting here. Flaming Sword of Faith set Calaf¡¯s redstone spear-tip alight. He poked the lone mushroom and watched as it, and its spores, burnt to cinder. Ah, it was Karol who gave me my first primer on the use of spells, Calaf recalled as the fungus burned. She¡¯d been on the path to Battlemage, following after her brother, Kai, already an accomplished Paladin. Both had been a major inspiration for Calaf. Everything had gone awry when Paladin Kai had been slain tanking a giga-flare from who else but Honest John. Karol¡¯s deterioration after that point had been swift, and she¡¯d died in a desperate attempt to make herself useful in some fashion to the church. Her sacrifice had possibly saved Port Town itself. Calaf thought about what would happen if he were to lose Jelena. Topical, given the events of the previous night. Though the Squire was still relatively new to this un-churchlike life of crime, he got the impression that your average scofflaw seldom grew old. The career self-selected for boldness and not at all for caution or restraint. In many ways, he was as ill-suited for this as he¡¯d found himself for faithful pilgrimage-going. Calaf left the reservoir, confident that the rot would be kept at bay for some time yet.
Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Cathedral Job
The Port Town Cathedral performed mass and liturgy twice weekly. The next mass would not be until tomorrow. But the cathedral remained open for visitors, pilgrims, and any faithful looking to petition the regional bishop. ¡°We really ought to come up with code names for these stock schemes,¡± Jelena mused. ¡°Smash and grab, for when we hold up the place. Maybe ¡®stealth attack¡¯ for when we¡¯re aiming to go in undetected? Well, don¡¯t just leave me talking to myself here, what do you all think?¡± The group scoped out the cathedral from a nearby rooftop balcony they¡¯d invited themselves onto. The lighthouse had been lit about thirty minutes prior, bathing the scene in an intense but narrow glow every minute and a half. Just consistent enough to plan an operation on¡­ ¡°Ooh.¡± Zilara raised her hand as if asking to be picked. ¡°How about ¡®long con¡¯ for when one of us serves as a distraction like this?¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± Jelena¡¯s lips formed a fetching frown. ¡°Still, maybe that should be used for longer, well, cons. Plan is to not stay in there more than an hour. In and out.¡± ¡°Quick and dirty,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Good thinking, ¡®Kidu.¡± Jelena chuckled, self-satisfied. She turned to Calaf. ¡°You going to be okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Calaf said softly. ¡°Just¡­ hold a conversation with him. Keep him from snooping in the reliquary while Zilara picks the lock and does her thing. Yeah, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Zilara sighed. ¡°Last time we were here a fungus revenant almost buried me in an avalanche of shrooms. Anyone going to ask if I¡¯ll be okay?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be with us the whole time, kid. As for you, Calaf, we¡¯ll be just around the corner. Risk of being caught is high.¡± Jelena gently took, then squeezed, Calaf¡¯s hand. ¡°You¡¯ll be isolated most of all. Just be careful out there.¡±
The plan was thus: Calaf would enter the cathedral first to ensure the reliquary and statue room remained open to the public and not under guard. He¡¯d send a message through their handy one-way communication snail to the only other Branded member of their group letting the rest of them know that the path was otherwise unobstructed. Then, Calaf would distract the local bishop or whoever else was on duty near the reliquary hall. With the path clear, Zilara would enter the cathedral as the ¡®child¡¯ of Jelena and Enkidu. They would all be disguised given their wanted posters were a frequent sight at most pilgrimage stops ¨C Zilara with a spoofing ring, Jelena and Enkidu with hoods and shawls and whatever else they¡¯d been able to scrounge up while Calaf was armor shopping. They¡¯d fake a prayer at the cathedral altar, then beeline for the statuary hall in the back. But it wasn¡¯t the statues they were after. The reliquary vault for Port Town sat dead center in the middle of the statuary hall. Within that vault was a relic that would be invaluable to any attempts to crack open the Olde Docks. Calaf knew this because he¡¯d returned the Lockpicks of the Scout to the local bishop about a year ago, now. As the only member of the posse without a wanted poster, Calaf was the only one who could serve as a distraction. He possessed neither the Menu-blessed stats nor the learned ¡®manual¡¯ skills to pick the vault door. But he was on a first-name basis with Bishop Deacon, the new head bishop of Port Town cathedral. Which is to say that this was something only Calaf could do.
Calaf approached the open, towering double doors of the grand church. The entrance was inviting and homey despite the lack of worshipful adherents entering or leaving for mass. Gone was the dire atmosphere of dread that had hung over the cathedral late into the last pilgrimage season. A handful of extremely devout worshipers remained in the cathedral, mostly attending the confessionary hall. Calaf walked immediately to the leftmost wing of the cathedral. The reliquary hall was open and free. The Squire summoned forth a porcelain snail from his Inventory. ¡°Path is clear and unguarded,¡± he whispered. There would be no response, for the snail only communicated one way. Still, it was the cue for Jelena and Enkidu to escort Zilara through the cathedral hall. A few junior pryors were attending confessionary duties. Calaf entered the statue hall and adjacent reliquary vault to, as Jelena oft described it, ¡®Case out the Joint.¡¯ And so, the joint was cased. Four statues were arranged in the cardinal directions along narrow, shaded walkways, each corresponding to one of the old heroes. And in the center was a great vault door. This was the reliquary ¨C Jelena¡¯s destination. Calaf walked around the outside, passing each statuary station in turn: The Battlemage with his sword and a spell-catalyst glove in accord. The Paladin, with his face concealed by a helm. Duly, Calaf noted that he was now equipped with the same shield and plate armor (sans helmet) as martyred Roland, the first and greatest of Shielders. Next, in the back-right station, was the shrine to the Cleric, holy priestess. Mother of the church. There were other reasons besides securing the wing for Jelena¡¯s lockpicking scheme to check this spot. Calaf looked behind the statue, where a minor trickle of water provided a toe-deep moat for aesthetic purposes. The entire back wall of this shrine had been redone in fine new brickwork. Concrete kept the masonry flush, like there hadn¡¯t been a gaping hole in the wall leading into the aqueducts months before. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. In a pinch, they could tear this wall down for an escape route. As Calaf walked around the other side of the statue, though, he encountered one more figure in the statuary hall. ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± came a kindly, familiar voice. ¡°Psst. Got him around in the back of the statuary hall. Will try to distract him,¡± Calaf whispered into the snail. Above, there was a rapid swaying of lights as the lighthouse did another circuit over the cape. That was, what, the fifth such circuit since Calaf first set foot in this hall? Jelena and the others should be almost at the vault, now. ¡°Hello, Deacon,¡± Calaf said, louder, to the figure that was approaching from the Scout¡¯s shrine.
There were missing person posters in some of the early stations requesting information on Calaf¡¯s whereabouts. They didn¡¯t penetrate this far north, as far as Calaf knew. He was the only one in the group who wasn¡¯t properly wanted for relic thievery-based crimes, hence his role as the distraction. Between pilgrimage seasons, there wasn¡¯t much scuttlebutt between regions. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t come up. ¡°Why, level fifty, that¡¯s most impressive,¡± Deacon began. ¡°That¡¯s well ahead of me, now. You must have traveled far up the path.¡± ¡°That¡­ that¡¯s right,¡± Calaf said. It wasn¡¯t a lie. Autumn¡¯s Redoubt was right around the leveling range for the fifties. ¡°Well, I recall when you were barely even in the teens, level-wise,¡± said Bishop Deacon. ¡°Ah, even three or four pilgrimage seasons is not enough to bring most laypeople to these lofty heights. You¡¯re quite blessed.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sure I am.¡± Calaf sighed. Deacon walked up to Calaf. The pair examined the statue of the Cleric for a time. ¡°What of the¡­ thing, in the sewers?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Arbiters walked into the aqueducts by this very shrine. They requested it be sealed up in their wake. They emerged elsewhere some months later. No problems have been reported since. A few still disappear, but these bodies are found and consecrated quickly. The results of more¡­ secular¡­ causes than the late unpleasantness. Drunken violence and the like.¡± Calaf exhaled all at once. He did not respond. ¡°Suffice to say, we¡¯ve been politely but firmly told by the Hammer of Faith himself to avoid dwelling on the murders and disappearances of that season. Trauma from that time still crops up in confession frequently. We¡¯ve been encouraged to¡­ aid the flock in moving towards the future.¡± Deacon sighed, betraying his displeasure at the order. ¡°Come, it looks like you¡¯ve been walking the statuary circuit. I walk it thrice daily; think I can skip one. I¡¯ll escort you to the last station.¡± The meaning was clear. Deacon wanted to walk back towards the Thief¡¯s ¨C Scout, the Scout¡¯s! ¨C shrine. This station provided a direct line of sight to the relic vault! ¡°Actually, I traveled anticlockwise,¡± Calaf lied. ¡°Oh? Well, I didn¡¯t see you,¡± Deacon said, rebuffing the Squire through obliviousness. ¡°No matter, if so I¡¯m sure you want to visit the shrine to the Paladin first. I need to head back to the confession hall and ensure Sir Perarde¡¯s decree is adhered to.¡± Of course, the head Bishop of the Scout¡¯s hometown would pay extra attention to the local hero¡¯s shrine. It was ever so slightly larger and more grand than the other three ¨C a small heresy, but one not worth clamping down on. Calaf followed Bishop Deacon back around to the Scout¡¯s wayshrine. The nimble rogue was on a pedestal, gilded dagger in one hand and parchment map in the other. ¡°Uh, about this statue,¡± Calaf said, thinking of any ruse to keep Deacon from turning to the relic vault. The pair considered the rather flattering statue of the Scout. Calaf took a quick look behind them and found the relic vault to be¡­ closed. The mighty turn-handle on the vault was off-center, evidence of previous manhandling. Had Zilara already picked the lock? Why, it was times like this where two-way communication would be invaluable. Perhaps they could invest in a second set of snails¡­ ¡°Oh, what questions do you have?¡± Deacon asked expectantly. Calaf turned to the statue. Hopefully, the Bishop wouldn¡¯t notice the slightly altered state of the vault. ¡°Well, I have a party that was going to brave the Olde Docks soon,¡± Calaf said. ¡°We were wondering if there were any documents or biographies about the thie¡ªScout, rather, that would help us prepare.¡± Deacon scratched at his chin. ¡°Well, well. I haven¡¯t had the pleasure of attending to the docks myself. From what returning Scouts have claimed, it¡¯s a weed-eaten district or two of Port Town preserved in eerie stasis. Strange wind-up creatures patrol the avenues. They¡¯re exceedingly difficult to kill for even an at-level party in a straight fight.¡± All this was congruent with Calaf¡¯s briefest of experiences with the dungeon. The point was to distract Deacon rather than gleam brand new information out of him. ¡°I would, ah, definitely take multiple Scout aspirants with you,¡± Deacon continued. ¡°They are essential to dancing around the many ambushes and traps you are like to encounter there. It is their dungeon, after all. And there are some traps that mere Endurance and a stalwart shield alone cannot protect against.¡± Calaf had delayed the Bishop as long as possible. Deacon turned and walked towards the exit ¨C and the relic vault. The turn-dial lock was not in a locked position. Calaf would have to keep him distracted just a moment or two longer. ¡°I see you¡¯ve donned pre-Paladin armor,¡± said Deacon. ¡°Did you happen to save some rubble from the top of Fort Duran? When you reach the proper level, it would just be a matter of visiting a statuary shrine. Why, it would be an honor for you to use this one.¡± ¡°It just felt¡­ better to wait.¡± Not to mention Calaf had enough blood money in the form of gold and experience from that damned crusade at the fort. ¡°Ah, well, if you¡¯ve been there once then at least you are familiar with the fortresses¡¯ contours.¡± Deacon nodded as he walked. They passed the vault. Deacon turned towards the exit. ¡°A warning: active dungeons are far more dangerous than when they¡¯ve come pre-cleared. Do not attempt any of this without a full party with which you have great rapport.¡± Calaf nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t, Bishop.¡± ¡°Oh, please, it is Deacon. Just Deacon for you.¡± The kindly Bishop left the statue wing. The ruse had taken. Calaf stepped backwards twice, then turned and ran to the vault door as quickly as possible without causing undue noise from his boots. ¡°Uh, anyone in there?¡± he asked at a low tenor. ¡°We closed the door when we heard someone coming.¡± Though the noise was muffled, it was clear Jelena was shouting behind the door. ¡°Just give the wheel a solid tug, won¡¯t you, dear? Otherwise Enkidu will have to slice the vault down and that will cause too much noise for a stealth job!¡±
Jelena, Zilara, and Enkidu were indeed waiting on the other side of the vault door. A modest collection of relics sat on austere pedestals. Only one was missing ¨C sucked into Zilara¡¯s Inventory. ¡°We¡¯re good to go,¡± said the holy child. ¡°Any trouble on your end?¡± Jelena asked Calaf. She¡¯d ¡®disguised¡¯ herself by hiking a pilgrim¡¯s shawl over the eyepatch-laden side of her face. Unbranded churchgoers were not unheard of ¨C mostly showing up to convert or plan for their conversion. Enkidu had prepared even less of a disguise ¨C reluctantly wearing a pilgrim¡¯s hood with no other elements of their alibi. Jelena smiled. ¡°We got what we came for. Rest of the relics are there to impress tourists. C¡¯mon, out the front door. If we¡¯re lucky nobody will even notice us leave.¡± Leave, the quartet did. Walked right out of the statue hall and turned towards the cathedral exit. Only, as they left, a group of four ran into the cathedral. ¡°Ha. Vile thieves. Come to defile this cathedral as you have so many wayshrines in the redoubt!¡± said one figure. ¡°Your heretical reign of terror ends here!¡± said another. The stir turned heads within the cathedral. Exfiltration couldn¡¯t have been that easy.
Chapter Ninety: Exit, Pursued by the Fuzz
A party of four stared the outlaw quartet down at the threshold of the cathedral door.
Name: Jorge, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Paladin
Level 72
Status: 2523/2523 (Zealous, Fanatic)
Weapons: Great Gilded Arbiter¡¯s Greatsword and Ornate Shield of the Church (x1)
The leader of the group held his shield lengthwise, forming a wedge that narrowed the functional exit space of the grand cathedral door significantly. Standing on Jorge¡¯s right was¡­
Name: Gerard, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Scout
Level: 71
Status: 640/640 (Nonplussed)
Weapons: Platinum Gilded Twinknives (x1).
The team Scout. Perhaps he had recognized Calaf by name back in Autumn¡¯s Redoubt after all. Had Gerard managed to track them across three regions? His face was implacable. What did he think about this confrontation in the church?
Name: Isaac, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Battlemage
Level: 70
Status: 810/810 (Resigned)
Weapons: Great Spell-Catalyst Zweihander +15 (x1)
The team spellcaster, and the only one matching Jorge¡¯s sternness. What¡¯s more, there was a fourth member:
Name: Sarah, Arbitral Auxiliary
Rank: Cleric
Level: 69
Status: 650/650 (Crestfallen)
Weapons: Holy Stave of the Church¡¯s Most Faithful (x1)
It was the first time Calaf had seen Sarah in some time. There were great bags under her eyes. It was clear her heart was not in this confrontation. If they had to talk their way out, she would be the most sympathetic voice. Just as the Squire had overtaken Deacon in levels and experience, so too had this party outleveled Calaf over the previous pilgrimage season. ¡°Hello, there,¡± Jelena said nonchalantly. Outside, Port Town was dark. There was movement in the great courtyard in front of the cathedral; the arbitral auxiliaries were on patrol. But the cathedral was not under siege. Not yet, at any rate. It appeared the party was here of their own accord. A chance encounter, perhaps. Or perhaps Gerard had been tracking them this whole time. ¡°You.¡± Jorge gritted his teeth. ¡°Thief!¡± Jelena looked at the nominal lead of their pursuing party. ¡°What? We¡¯re but simple churchgoers visiting the cathedral in preparation for our conversion and Branding.¡± Jorge let out a mighty harrumph. He held his sword aloft, its point hovering at Jelena¡¯s heart. Enkidu¡¯s blade was hidden beneath his ill-fitting pilgrim¡¯s outfit. He brandished it in turn. Jelena took two steps back, subtly reaching for her knives, likewise holstered on her hips. On the small of her back, hidden under her traveling shirt, was a flintlock. While the high-level attacking party would have staggering Endurance and defense (particularly Jorge, their tank), this ¡®firearm¡¯ as coined by Battletower scholars, was a weapon of shock and awe. Its round lead buckshot would sunder anything short of demon bone armor. Calaf instinctually took a step forward, standing between Jorge¡¯s sword and Jelena. He was not expecting to test out this new kite shield so soon. The altercation had drawn the attention of everyone left in the cathedral. ¡°Everyone. Everyone.¡± Deacon walked towards the doors, hands up. ¡°Good arbiters. I say.¡± ¡°Auxiliary,¡± came a quiet voice. Deacon stopped and held a hand to his ear. ¡°What was that, my child?¡± Sarah shuffled about awkwardly. ¡°We¡¯re arbitral auxiliaries. Not actual arbiters.¡± ¡°Well, my brave and faithful auxiliaries of the church. Is General Perarde here?¡± Flustered, Jorge shook his head. ¡°Well, surely even varsity arbiters know that sanctuary rules apply to this most holy of churches.¡± Jorge and Isaac looked at each other. ¡°S-sanctuary rules, your grace?¡± Deacon nodded. ¡°Indeed. For a full hundred days, anyone may dwell on these grounds without risk of abduction or fear of being apprehended. Not a day more, but not a day less.¡± ¡°Is that¡­¡± Jorge let out a tsk. ¡°That¡¯s not a ¡­¡± ¡°I was hoping you could bring it up with the Hammer of Faith. Surely such a long-time avatar of churchly virtue would be able to educate you on the protocol.¡± ¡°This woman is an infamous heretic¡ª¡± Jorge began. ¡°Sacred rights of sanctuary make no mention of limitations for even heinous crimes.¡± Deacon stared the auxiliary arbiters down sternly. ¡°It is open to all. Feel free to look the doctrine up in the church¡¯s records, though, well, I suppose you would have to travel to Deepwood to consult the archives.¡± Jorge gave the bishop a piteous scowl. But after obvious internal debate, he put his gilded sword away. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Can we just go?¡± Sarah managed, exhausted. ¡°Very well. We will wait outside.¡± Jorge said. ¡°They can hardly wait in here forever.¡± Mercifully, Jorge barely addressed Calaf during the entire confrontation. The fellow Shielder may not even recognize Calaf any longer. Gerard, though, did give a knowing nod before turning to stand in the square outside the cathedral. Sarah failed to look at anyone at all, forlornly turning to leave only after the other three members of her party left.
The Lockpick of the Scout remained safe (and hidden) in Zilara¡¯s inventory. So long as they were not suspected of stealing from the reliquary, there¡¯d be no reason to check the vault. No reason to suspect an act of thievery had occurred on this night unless Zilara pulled the item out for whatever reason. ¡°Thank you,¡± Calaf said, feeling an uneasy malaise in his gut. He had to lie to Deacon again and maintain plausible deniability. ¡°Anything to keep the peace in the main hall,¡± Deacon said with a glib grin. ¡°In truth, I¡¯ve heard tell of these auxiliary arbiters harassing the flock at smaller churches and wayshrines across the land. Accusing lay-folk of heresies and even dragging them out mid-sermon.¡± Calaf hadn¡¯t heard of any of this. Why, that chance confrontation that nearly ruined the Autumn¡¯s Redoubt heist was the first time he¡¯d encountered these junior varsity arbiters. Since shacking up with Jelena, Calaf was, as they say, out of the loop. Outside, Jorge and company paced around in the town square. Calaf and Jelena wouldn¡¯t be leaving out the front door. ¡°Well, unless we want to run out the clock for three months here, we¡¯ll need an alternate exit.¡± Jelena nudged her eyepatch into position. ¡°Maybe we could run a rope across town from the belfry¡­ or sneak out a monastery window¡­ I happen to have a lot of experience sneaking out of monastery windows. Few nunneries to. Because of, y¡¯know, reasons.¡± ¡°Reservoir,¡± Calaf said. ¡°That old entrance. We ¨C ah, you ¨C can leave through the aqueducts.¡± Jelena nodded. Her, Enkidu, and Zilara returned to the statuary hall. ¡°Thanks again,¡± Calaf told Deacon. ¡°No matter. I do believe the Cathedral at Port Town is still in both her and your debt after last season¡¯s reservoir crisis.¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°Go ensure those unknown saviors get off cathedral grounds and out of harm''s way. After all¡­¡± Deacon gave a knowing smile. ¡°¡­ I¡¯m sure an upstanding Squire such as yourself simply can¡¯t resist escorting a fair, unbranded maiden to safety.¡±
Calaf resisted the urge to tell the Bishop that Jelena was no maiden and had not been even before her first pilgrimage. He wisely stopped himself and went back to the statue hall. He could hear the auxiliary arbiter corps¡¯ drills wafting through high windows. They remained unawares of the wanted fugitives hiding in the church; the confrontation was entirely Jorge and company''s doing. "As the Martyred Paladin lived and died, upholding honor and chivalry," barked a sergeant. "Defend the faith without hesitation," answered the common soldiers. "Slay enemies of the church without reservation." "As the holy priestess decreed, love and protect your neighbor..." "... cast utmost suspicion on outsiders. Maintain vigilant eyes on the unbranded foreigner." They were a force made of out-of-towners. It was obvious based on how they did not have a special place for the Scout in their mantras. While they did move on to an exultation to go explore the far-isles and Brand the natives under the Menu, they did not do so using direct scriptural accounts of the Scout''s words. Calaf noted with no small amount of consternation that he could have wound up amidst the arbitral auxiliary. If he''d successfully apprehended Jelena. If the crusading action at Fort Duran had gone a little differently. It could be him out in the courtyard. He''d probably be Paladin by now, he happened to think as he walked by the martyred Roland''s shrine. There was, technically speaking, no ideological component for ranking up. Any Squire who had the coveted key item, Fort Duran Rampart Rubble, could ascend to Paladinhood as a class at a shrine. Still, was Calaf even worthy at this point? The narrow wall behind the Cleric¡¯s shrine was already disassembled, courtesy of Enkidu, when Calaf arrived. Once in the aqueducts escape was assured; they could pop out at any point in the city in a manner nigh impossible to track. And with that brief foray into the former thieves¡¯ guild earlier in the day, Calaf was less daunted at the prospects of venturing through the tunnels. A pile of bricks sat on the floor, having been pushed in with a mighty kick. The sanctuary rule applied for fifty paces around any church or holy site¡¯s exterior wall, if Calaf¡¯s lessons from Riverglen were still applicable. It was a rule that upheld the spirit of sanctuary laws by preventing targets from being sniped with a crossbow through a window, or poked through the church doors with a spear. They would not be perturbed in this tunnel. ¡°Hold on.¡± Calaf knelt down and scooped up the bricks into his Inventory. He pulled them back out one after another and painstakingly, manually stacked them back into place. When it was done, the cathedral and the aqueduct network were sealed off once more. The masonry was nothing to write home about. But it functioned as a wall. Enkidu had lost patience with the endeavor and escorted Zilara ahead. Jelena remained behind, having watched Calaf as he worked. ¡°Look at you,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°Still the gallant, upstanding do-gooder.¡± Calaf sighed. Yes, yes, she¡¯d seduced an upstanding chivalrous Squire and was admiring him as he continued to do his good deeds despite bunking up with a known relic hunter. Still, Jelena appeared charmed at the act. She took Calaf¡¯s hand and they took off through the newly-cleansed aqueduct.
The group advanced some hundreds of paces, boots trudging through ankle-deep aqueduct water. "We tend to make a habit out of missing the rainy season," Jelena said as they walked. "Believe it or not, Metz had a whole upper catwalk system that could be assembled within an hour to keep everything high and dry. Doubt any of it survived the ol'' arbiters. Still, kind of impressive, just, logistically." Already, the agility-based blessings of the Scout''s Lockpicks paid dividends. "Someone comes," Calaf said. There were indeed footsteps rushing to meet them. Calaf and Zilara''s souped-up hearing identified the exact tunnel the din was coming from a hair''s breath before even Enkidu''s superhuman ears tuned in. The group was able to meet their new assailants at a drained, wide-open reservoir of their choosing. When the attempted ambush occurred, Calaf was waiting, blocking their path with his brand new shield. "How''d they hear us coming?" came a voice from deep in the aqueducts. "Your armor clanking around could be heard from the other end of the city," answered Calaf. Though the channel beyond was lightless, relic-enhanced vision could quite clearly make out the silhouette of a Paladin in full armor and mage robes. "Where are the others?" Calaf asked. Rather than respond, the figure in the channel opened with a rush and a shield bash. Shield met shield. Stats and substats resolved themselves within the Interface, and the level delta proved insurmountable. Calaf was pushed back into the reservoir, landing on his back in a heel-deep carpet of water. Jorge and Isaac rushed into the chamber as Calaf struggled back to his feet. The former wore his full battle armor, including a helmet that offered only two narrow slits to see through. "Where are they!?" Jorge''s voice boomed in his full varsity-arbiter armor. Immediately, it was obvious that Sarah had bowed out of this tunnel-crawling expedition. Gerard, too, was nowhere to be found. He may have lent his knowledge of the Port Town aqueducts and drainage tunnels to help the other half of the party plan their route, but he was yet-unwilling to help track Jelena and company through the maze. The reservoir - one of a half-dozen the posse had slunk and fought through the previous year. Stairs and multiple floors of drainage passageways came and went in all directions. "Looking for me?" Jelena stood on a far ledge, having claimed the high ground. Zilara peered out from a passageway behind her; they''d already picked their escape route. Enkidu, meanwhile, prowled along the high walkway, sword out. There was no doubt that Enkidu could just kill the two auxiliary arbiters and be done with it. He''d held his own against every full-ranked Arbiter they''d come across, after all. While they were high level now, and Jorge in particular too far gone to be reasoned with, Calaf still felt some responsibility for the low-level pilgrims he''d escorted so long ago. He made a hand signal behind his back, directed at Jelena, urging her to avoid open conflict. Even so, open conflict was upon them. Jorge cast a Paladin buff and then a spell, first increasing the party of two''s defense then casting their weapons with a bright golden light. Holy damage infusion. "Have at thee!" said the Paladin. With twenty levels between them, there was little Calaf could do in a straight fight. So he''d just have to fight dirty. Fight like his girlfriend. Calaf knelt to pick up a clod of mud from the reservoir''s floor. Normally part of an elaborate filtration system, now it would serve a different purpose. The Squire flung a clod of dirt at the higher-ranking knight. Mud covered Jorge¡¯s helmet, and sunk into the narrow eye-slits. Blind! The status appeared in Jorge''s Interface. He swung his sword in mighty arcs, missing everything but humid aqueduct air. Next up, Calaf rushed Isaac before he could conjure up a spell and let out a shield bash. Even with the twenty-level gap in experience, the bash sent the squishy mage down into the water. "Use lightning!" Jorge ordered, wiping muck off his helmet in vain. "It''ll fry us all!" Isaac said, mouth gargling on water. Calaf ran up the stairs as fast as his new armor would allow. "Ah, out of smoke bombs," Jelena said from her perch. "But I do have a few more of these." The relic thief threw out a bundle of three small shells tied together in a net. The net unfurled as it reached the peak of the thrown arc. While this item had an Interface designation, Calaf instinctually looked away rather than dare try to read it. The trio of bomblets landed in the shallow water and immediately burst with a blinding flash and a deafening crackle. The cluster flash-bangs continued to light up the reservoir basin with delayed timer secondary explosions. The posse rushed out down a west-facing channel. Their pursuers were left with the Discombobulated status, preventing pursuit. Jorge was left in the unenviable position of being both Blinded by mud lingering in one eye and Discombobulated, ears ringing and head spinning. By the time either recovered, Calaf and Jelena''s group would be untraceable without the aid of a master Scout. The web of sewers and aqueducts running through and under Port Town served as a labyrinth to both get lost within¡­ and to disappear, if you knew where to hide.
The posse emerged on the far side of Port Town near a west-facing gate. No further pursuit was detected. ¡°Pity all the thieves¡¯ guild stashes got wiped out in the cleanse,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Could¡¯ve used some more spoofing rings or smoke bombs.¡± A handful of generalist merchant emporiums catered to incoming and outgoing pilgrims. In the off-season, they would be desperate for business¡ªand notably closing soon with evening winding down. ¡°If anyone needs any last-minute supplies you should get them now,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Heh.¡± Zilara grinned cheekily. ¡°Already got equipped while you were out replacing your armor.¡± Jelena cocked her head. ¡°Why did you have to replace the old set anyway? I thought you looked quite fetching in desert armor.¡± The Piper-induced brain fog had yet to abate. She hadn¡¯t even noticed that the armor was rent, ruined in battle while she sleepwalked. Calaf grimaced, wondering how long his beloved¡¯s cognition would be altered, and what lasting effects being a demon¡¯s thrall would entail. ¡°Well, the whole Paladin getup is fetching enough as well.¡± Jelena looped her arm through Calaf¡¯s. She leaned in and whispered. ¡°Just promise we¡¯ll find the time to do it without unequipping the armor sometime, okay?¡± Zilara scrunched her face up and looked away. Evidently, Jelena¡¯s whisper was too loud. ¡°Anyway,¡± said the holy brat. ¡°I¡¯ve got a whole bevy of spells that ought to help. Skimped on lockpicks, but we¡¯ve got an unbreakable one now.¡± Accentuating the point, Zilara summoned forth their bounty from the cathedral heist:
Item: Holy Lockpick of the Scout Description: +5 to Agility and Intelligence to an entire party. +10 to Perception and Stealth-based modifiers. Also serves as an unbreakable lockpick.
The bonus to perception and stealth had proven invaluable during the last pilgrimage season. Calaf had acquired the relic during his hunt for some relic thieves. By happenstance, the relic helped defense-minded Calaf identify traps and engage in stealth well beyond anything a Stalwart-class could otherwise hope to utilize. Now it was back in their possession. The +5 bonuses already appeared on Calaf¡¯s menu, though it would not factor into any level-up stat calculations. Ye Olde Docks awaited ¨C a silted-up borough full of traps and rife with ambush points. This was the patron stomping grounds of Scouts, which their posse notably was running short of. But the Scout¡¯s scribblings pointed to treasure or somesuch deep in the old, forgotten district. While it was a high-risk proposition, the dungeons promised a trove of high-tier loot even discounting any hidden treasure vaults left by the Scout. The quartet walked out of the west gate, following Calaf¡¯s lead as he traced his steps to the entrance of the region¡¯s major dungeon.
Chapter Ninety-One: Old, Abandoned Avenues
Plant life had grown back even thicker around the entrance to the old silted-up dock district. What was once a burnt-over passage between two mighty oaks was now a narrow, hidden entrance just wide enough to squeeze through. New tree growth sprung back in barely a year. By the next pilgrimage season, the path would be blocked again, and aspirants would have to search the overgrown delta for another entrance to the dungeon. Calaf, Jelena, Zilara, and Enkidu squeezed through into a small plaza that was, in fact, a dried riverbed between two wharves and warehouses. Vines covered a ladder leading up into the dungeon proper. ¡°There were bodies here when I checked in briefly upon discovering this place.¡± Calaf glanced around. ¡°No trace of them now. It¡¯s been a year, but¡­¡± ¡°Predation likely disposed of them,¡± Enkidu said. That, or other dungeon divers possessed the good sense to bury the corpses after they''d retrieved the inventory contents off the fallen. ¡°Never been in this one,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Stop by the Battletower once a year to check out new inventions the scholars and Battlemages are cooking up. They keep all the good stuff in the basement or the upper floors. That¡¯s where I got the firearm, yeah? Shall we?¡± The group made for the ladder, already wary of traps, and entered the dungeon proper.
Dungeons. Carefully curated ruins from the age of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. There were four primary dungeons, corresponding to the four major classes of the old heroes. Paladins had Fort Duran, an ancient fortress from which Roland the martyred hero hailed from. A great castle amidst the ever-fall wonderland of Autumn¡¯s Redoubt, the dungeon was an endurance test, fighting high-level dire-bears in the baileys and animated armor in the crypts and along the walls. The goal was to reach the tallest tower, where enchanted construction rubble would rank a Squire up to Paladin proper. Calaf had been to this peak once before, painfully under-leveled, but left the rubble behind; given the context, it just didn¡¯t feel worth it. Clerics had the Shrine of Salmana, the ruins of a pre-demon age nunnery from which Priestess Mia¡¯s bloodline hailed. Given the preeminence of Clerics in the church hierarchy and Mia¡¯s status as mother of the church, this dungeon was closely guarded, its inner workings shrouded in mystery. Sisters escorted faithful deep into the under-capital crypts every pilgrimage season. This was but a sliver of the full shrine. For the rest of the site there was only rumors. The Battletower, home dungeon of Battlemages (hence the name). This was the one dungeon that was occupied, at least on the lower floors, by scholars pioneering the art of Battlemagery. The difficulty of the upper floors was mostly contained in the traps hidden within. Success was dependent on wits and knowledge befitting a mage¡¯s tower. That left Ye Olde Docks, repurposed from the long-forgotten remnants of Port Town from back when the river delta flowed along a slightly different path. There were many traps here, though Calaf had spied some metal monstrosity patrolling the old, abandoned wharves. The good news regarding the more trap-based dungeons was that there was a limited number of traps seasonally. Oh, they reset themselves in time for the next pilgrimage ¨C likely thanks to some church maintenance on the side. But a late-season run could be a relative breeze if you timed it right. This time of year was between seasons, and closer to the start of the next pilgrimage than the end of the last. Traps were likely fresh. Sure, you could have a barrow or bandit hideout in a cave and call that a dungeon if you wished. But ¡®Dungeon¡¯ brought to mind the official church-sanctioned experience, here. There was an expected level of quality to the Big Four. Not to mention the main dungeon¡¯s close personal connections to the Ancient Heroes of Yore. ¡°Hopefully the traps were all triggered last pilgrimage,¡± Zilara said. No sooner did they climb up to the proper wharf, however, did Calaf spy a tripwire ¨C handily highlighted by the Menu thanks to his heightened Scout-adjacent senses. ¡°Careful,¡± he said. ¡°There are things other than traps guarding this place.¡± They carefully stepped over the tripwire. Burn marks up ahead indicated spots where the trap had been tripped not too long ago¡ªbut how, then, had it reset itself so soon? ¡°What item Scouts do go for here?¡± Zilara asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Calaf shrugged. ¡°Some sort of box?¡± A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A hefty set of double doors was the only route forward. The way was shut unless they had an experienced Scout to pick the lock. Enter Zilara, with the Lockpicks of the Scout. ¡°Hmmm. So my class is custom. When you¡¯re directly descended from the holy priestess, I guess you have leeway to build a class as you want.¡± Zilara talked as she worked. ¡°My stats are balanced enough. In conjunction with this bonus from the relic and endless attempts courtesy of the lockpick¡­¡± There was a click and the hefty double doors swung open. ¡°Heh. There we go.¡± The warehouse was ill-lit and muggy, with a few shrouded rows of years-rotted storage equipment sitting on shelves. Calaf held up the spear and cast Flaming Sword of Faith. The group entered the warehouse. The doors closed on a swivel. Then, with another click, they locked. ¡°We¡¯re committed now,¡± Jelena said. ¡°C¡¯mon, there should be another door on the far side of the warehouse.¡± The group walked carefully through a middle row. Calaf¡¯s flaming spear cast long shadows over the warehouse. Flickering light caught in a lens. A whirling of gears announced the arrival of the first dungeon sentry. A cylindrical figure twice the size of your average man slid along a far pathway, just out of range of the flames. ¡°Well, that was quicker than expected,¡± Jelena said at a whisper. ¡°Just move slowly. There could still be traps.¡± The group passed by a group of shelves that had been knocked over, perhaps in a previous altercation with these new enemies. The grinding of gears was ever-present now, somewhere near the far corner. Calaf hazarded a look into some of the boxes. The contents had rotted away long ago. ¡°Huh, no Menu designation,¡± he whispered. ¡°It¡¯s not Interface-compatible.¡± There was another whirring of gears and the moving cylindrical figure appeared at the end of the hall and turned at once.
Name: Gustavo¡¯s Flamer Dire-Automaton
Rank: Automaton, Ancient Construct
Level 83
Status: 1000/1000 (Ungrounded)
Weapons: - Whirling blade saws - Flame Belcher - Protocol: Kill on Sight
The flames of the spear-torch were reflected in three concave lenses on the automaton¡¯s ¡®face¡¯. ¡°Level eighty-three!¡± Zilara said, ducking behind Calaf. The automaton advanced. Calaf held his shield out. The creature ¨C to the extent that a collection of clockwork and tempered metal counted as a ¡®creature¡¯ ¨C rolled forward, aiming directly for Calaf¡¯s torch. Spinning blades met the until-now pristine kite shield in a flurry of sparks. Calaf¡¯s was forced back slowly, but his footing held. Still, no level fifty tank could hold out against such a foe for long. ¡°I see the other door!¡± Zilara announced, already diving past the automaton. ¡°Keep it busy. Imma go pick the lock.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Jelena said, firearm in hand. She fired off a shot that broke the automaton¡¯s largest lens. The automaton swiveled back, staggered but taking only paltry health damage. It seemed to lose track of Calaf entirely, and its two remaining ¡®eyes¡¯ moved about to try and form some kind of binocular target acquisition. Further into the warehouse, another hunter-killer whirred to life. This one moved at a quieter clip, swiftly going in search of the latest noise. Enkidu leapt over the automaton and stabbed it from behind. Again, there was little damage earned from this maneuver. ¡°These things do not die when you stab them,¡± Enkidu said with characteristic annoyance. ¡°Eeek!¡± Zilara came running back down the hall. Flame wicked at her feet. ¡°Another one!¡± The second automaton appeared at level seventy-seven. Instead of saw-arms it had another pair of flame-belchers. Enkidu moved to put himself between Zilara and the flame-automaton. ¡°Hold him there, Calaf,¡± Jelena said. ¡°I¡¯ll try to shoot its other two eyes out.¡± That would require blocking these buzzsaws for longer than Calaf conceivably could endure. Instead, Zilara ran up from behind. ¡°Clear!¡± she shouted.
Spell: Improved Lightning
Effects: Arcs a disabling and debilitating bolt of lightning at a foe. Reacts well with metal.
Description: ¡°A Classic Battemage Staple.¡±
The bolt hit Gustavo¡¯s Automaton in the back. Sensors scrambled, accompanied by a foul whiff of ozone. The lightning arced through the automaton and through Calaf¡¯s shield into the Squire himself. Calaf dropped to his knees. Metal armor offered little protection against lightning, particularly since it was not mitigated by his shield. But the robotic creature was still shaking. Its central cylinder opened up involuntarily, and a clockwork core revealed itself. Calaf waited until the electricity stopped, but before the automaton recovered, and thrust his spear into the core. That thousand hit points collapsed all at once like a house of cards. ¡°Lightning ¨C electricity is their weakness,¡± Zilara said triumphantly. Wasting no time, Enkidu stabbed his blade into the tough metal shell of the flamer-automaton. He raised a hand up. Zilara cast her Improved Lightning again, hitting Enkidu¡¯s enclosed fist. Electricity flowed through Enkidu, eliciting a grimace but no lasting damage, and into the automaton, where damage proved disabling. One more sword thrust into the exposed core destroyed this second sentry. The first encounter was done. The warehouse was theirs. ¡°Whew.¡± Jelena stowed her pistol. ¡°Okay, nice and quiet, back to that door and we¡¯ll get out of here before we summon anything else. A great crash came as Enkidu swiped his sword, toppling the remaining stockpile shelves. Soon the warehouse was bare from wall to wall, and no further automaton was activated. ¡°Every previous party snuck through here, running into traps and aggroing the automated security,¡± Enkidu said. ¡°Now any future parties will have a full arena to fight through. They¡¯ll be able to see the far door right away.¡± Jelena shot her longtime partner in crime a piteous look. ¡°It¡¯s more efficient,¡± Enkidu said, deadpan. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Jelena shrugged, then turned to Zilara. ¡°Get the door, kiddo.¡±
Chapter Ninety-Two: Floodlands
Leveling ought to advance at a rapid pace if the posse was going to be frequenting the four divine dungeons. Despite this, automaton kills granted only paltry experience to Calaf and Zilara. The latter was on the cusp of leveling up. Hopefully a few more battles would push her over the edge. For items, they only received an odd collection of gears and the requisite gold. Scrap metal was a forgeable, used for crafting something. They could probably sell it at their next stop on the line. The warehouse¡¯s outgoing door swung open long enough for the group to pile out, then closed and locked itself again. They looked out over a dock on the far side of the warehouse. Another wharf sat on the far side of a gulf. And filling that gulf was a sight most unexpected. ¡°Huh.¡± Jelena mused. A wide and swelling river flowed through the Olde Docks. It wasn¡¯t supposed to do that. The river had diverted due to erosion, silt build-up, and natural drift centuries ago. But to doubt the evidence was to doubt their own eyes. An arm of the delta had broken through the layers of silt and now flowed through this area once more. Water carried on, brackish and muddy. ¡°Well. Maybe there are still some boats around?¡± Jelena suggested. Nobody wanted to swim the distance to the far wharf. The water was brackish and full of mud, with evidence of a swift and steady current just underneath the surface. Even if the water were shallow and gentle, braving dire-piranhas and whatever else dwelled in the swampy delta¡¯s water would be a tall order even for Enkidu. Eddies wafted about behind the nearest pier. A body, a recent addition, floated face down in the shallows. ¡°Listed as ¡®Mader, Church Dungeon Engineering Corps,¡¯¡± Calaf reported. ¡°Level seventy-nine. A Scout.¡± It could be surmised that these dungeon architects were here to ensure the dungeon was in top shape for the upcoming pilgrimage season. Something must have blown a natural dam and sent the water flowing through the docks for the first time in generations. Even at-level Scouts, intimately familiar with their patron dungeon, were not immune to surprise drowning. ¡°Hey, Hoss.¡± Zilara pointed to half a bridge on their side of the river. It had a pair on the other side, both done up by ropes. The bridge would¡¯ve been left up and otherwise ignored as unnecessary when the riverbed was dry. Now that the waters were back with a vengeance, the bridge was suddenly invaluable. Now, how to get it down¡­ ¡°Very observant, kid.¡± Jelena approached the bridge. She angled her head awkwardly to judge the distance with her one eye. Then, she flicked her wrist. A throwing knife flew, courtesy of Jelena, clear through a thick ship-mooring rope. The half-a-bridge sagged, still held up by two other ropes. A pair of additional throwing knives cut the bridge down, and it fell to its resting point over the river, spanning approximately half the distance to the next wharf. The three ropes keeping the far span vertical were joined together at an ornate metal clasp. The corresponding clasp on their end of the river had not been visible from their vantage point. Wordless, Enkidu flung his sword at the metal target. The ropes unraveled all at once as the clasp fell into the river. Voila, there was a bridge. Bits of wood floated by in the delta, and a few stone structures could be seen amidst the murk. There was an entire elaborate sequence, multiple encounters even, that the group was circumventing entirely. Not that there was much of a choice now that the encounters were flooded. The second warehouse was open. Zilara peeked through the door, enhanced senses checking for traps. ¡°There¡¯s three of those things in there,¡± Zilara said. "Big automatons. Sitting in a circle." ¡°What are they doing?¡± Calaf asked. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The holy child shrugged. ¡°Dunno. Maybe they¡¯re broken?¡± The group approached quietly. A trio of level seventy-five automata waited, facing each other ¨C to the extent they had ¡®faces¡¯ ¨C and generally purring at a low whirr from deep in their clockwork cores. ¡°No visual sensors.¡± Jelena motioned to the lack of lenses. ¡°And we¡¯re making noise. Wonder what causes them to attack¡­¡± The buffs from the Lockpicks of the Thief were not foolproof. Case in point, Zilara stepped on a scone-sized plate on the floor. The plate remained undetected by all even as they walked further into the otherwise bare warehouse. A trio of darts shot out from the far wall. Zilara was so short they sailed clear over her head¡­ directly towards Jelena. Jelena jumped back on instinct. Calaf filled the gap, shield raised. Bolts bounced against the hard metal of the kite shield, causing harmless physical damage while transmitting a poisoned status to Calaf. The poison took hold, causing Calaf to double over and retch. Bile clogged up his throat. A spell ¨C he had a spell to purify poisons and other statuses. When he tried to cast the spell, however, he just coughed up bile. Simultaneously, the trio of automatons came to life¡­
¡°Calaf!¡± Jelena tackled him before a second round of poison darts and a flame belcher struck his position. Enkidu jumped into action as Zilara threw out another lightning bolt. The blast arced between the automatons, stunning them at an opportune moment. ¡°Calaf, take this!¡± Jelena tapped on his wrist, indicating that he should open his inventory. An antidote in a sealed bottle emerged from the ether. Jelena grabbed it, popped the cork, and thrust it at Calaf¡¯s chin. Calaf drank it down, feeling the tightness and bile in his throat alleviate the more he drank. Enkidu was tripping poison dart traps with little concern for where they went. He nimbly dodged them, never staying in one spot for long. Slaying these three automatons caused four more to fall into the warehouse from the cardinal directions. The nearest rushed at Enkidu with its buzzsaws spun up and squealing. Calaf blocked the blow with his kite shield once more. Enkidu threw his sword through a gap in the automata''s chassis, slaying it. Lightning arced between targets, stunning incoming automatons for Enkidu or Calaf to finish off. One last clockwork soldier remained. Jelena climbed atop it and pried its chassis open with her twin knives. ¡°Wide open!¡± she said. A spear and an ancient blade plunged into the machine¡¯s heart simultaneously.
The group made camp in a dead-end grove behind the warehouse. A small inlet allowed them to try and fish from the river, though they were largely unsuccessful and just ate from their rations. With the enemies in this area being artificial sentries with fixed patrol routes, they were safe in their alcove to utilize the campfire. Theoretically, this old warehouse district was porous enough that you could infiltrate from any direction. Come in by boat when the water proved cooperative. Skip entire sections. Maybe even make it all the way to the final area ¨C a dock warden¡¯s office, near the back, without going through this funhouse of traps and clockwork soldiers. But perhaps that was part of the trap ¨C go traipsing through the swamp, penetrate so deep you lose your bearings. The docks were hard enough to find in normal circumstances. Zilara had dinged level thirty-seven after the warehouse brawl. Calaf kept a close eye on his own experience in the Interface but given the level difference, he was still a ways away from the next level. ¡°So, how¡¯s dungeoneering going for you?¡± Jelena asked. The group had two logs and a pile of ancient lumber to sit upon. This mostly meant Jelena spent the evening sitting in Calaf¡¯s lap as their rations cooked. ¡°So far so good,¡± Calaf said, his hands resting on Jelena¡¯s hips. ¡°They keep doing it,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Public displays of affection.¡± Jelena settled into her seat. ¡°You¡¯re doing good.¡± ¡°I guess we have a balanced party. In a sense.¡± Calaf was the team tank, which at his level brought him some healing abilities. Zilara¡¯s specialized class allowed her to play a versatile swathe of roles. Within this party, she passed as the team mage. Enkidu was a melee damage dealer whose general implacability meant he could take a blow or two. While Jelena said she was a cleric, the Scoured brand meant she¡¯d lost access to magic, but with her knives and natural agility, she made a fair Scout. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to spend the night in the dungeon,¡± Calaf admitted. ¡°Figured it would be more of a day trip.¡± Jelena scooted around in his lap until she faced him. ¡°Eh, camping out can be done on the Fort Duran ramparts and certain confirmed-safe rooms in the Battletower. The Shrine is¡­ well, it varies. But it can be done.¡± Jelena leaned in and hovered near Calaf¡¯s ear. She whispered: ¡°Not a lot of privacy here. But¡­¡± she leaned closer. ¡°One day, I really want to do it in a dungeon.¡± Calaf opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked to the other seats to confirm the others hadn¡¯t heard. ¡°To think we haven¡¯t even cracked open the brandy yet.¡± Jelena giggled, her lips pursed. ¡°Just, y¡¯know. On the bucket list. Battletower or, well, the Fort would probably be the best places for it.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Calaf said. ¡°You¡¯re blushing an awfully lot for a maybe.¡± Jelena leaned forward and kissed him. Calaf kissed back, and they made out by the fireside, much to Zilara¡¯s consternation. ¡°Get a tent, you two.¡±
Chapter Ninety-Three: Clockwork Hearts
No sooner had the group mastered the art of cheesing these flame-belching, saw-wielding automata, did the next major threat introduce itself. A dry dock appeared devoid of enemies and traps. No ship had passed through here in ages, and never would. A straight shot from the entrance to a customs office awaited on the far end of an avenue. Enkidu took two steps forward¡­ and was immediately struck with three crossbow bolts courtesy of a miniature ballista on a swivel just above the door. He turned to duck behind the remnants of a crane and took two more bolts to the back for his trouble. To his credit, the wild man appeared unfazed. Barely noticed the bolts until Zilara insisted he pop them out. At Jelena¡¯s insistence, Calaf waved his spear out past the pillar. A flurry of bolts chased the spear around, shadowing its movements. ¡°Ah. It¡¯s motion tracking!¡± ¡°Who made these things?¡± Calaf asked. ¡°Well, those robots were called ¡®Gustavo¡¯s Automaton,¡± Zilara mentioned. ¡°This thing doesn¡¯t have a designation, but one assumes it¡¯s the same guy.¡± The crossbow detected a rat and swiftly swiveled over to get a shot off at it. ¡°That¡¯s whose letter we¡¯re following,¡± Jelena said. ¡°The Scout.¡± Calaf recalled some lessons from the church orphanage. The holy scout of the ancient heroes. Why, his hometown stomping grounds were patrolled by artificial creatures of his own creation! Nothing could remain operating for that long. They were his inventions in spirit, though surely they were maintained by some church personnel designed to keep the dungeon challenging. ¡°Well, surely the automated security he built all those years ago are all scrap by now,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Not sure where the supplies of automata here are all coming from.¡± They were pinned, progress halted until this automatic crossbow was dealt with. It scanned the pillar with a narrow pivot, as if recalling the last tracked movement. ¡°I¡¯ll advance with my shield up,¡± Calaf suggested. Jelena shook her head. ¡°New shield is a little small, Hot Shot. This thing senses motion. Your legs will be exposed while you advance.¡± Dejected, Calaf measured things out. She was right, of course. Maybe if he advanced at a crouch¡­ ¡°Just trying to preserve your kneecaps, dear,¡± Jelena said, patting his shoulder pauldron consolingly. Next, Zilara suggested they bait the crossbow until it depleted its ammo reserves. Jelena held a spare bonnet out on Calaf¡¯s spear. There was a whiff as the crossbow detected, aimed, and fired at the presumed threat. The old bonnet was unceremoniously impaled to the wall. Calaf continued drawing out crossbow bolts with his shield, never once leaving the safety of one of the drydock''s massive pillars. This continued for several minutes. ¡°Eh, it¡¯s not working, Hoss.¡± Zilara peeked at the crossbow from the other end of the pillar. ¡°It¡¯s reloading itself.¡± A mechanical belt kept feeding bolts into this automated contraption. ¡°Gustavo must¡¯ve built them to last,¡± Jelena mused. ¡°Anyone have any other ideas?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go right. The rest of you wait exactly three seconds then go left.¡± Enkidu did not wait for a response. He ran out. There was another whif-whif-whiffing sound. Some bolts missed their target while others did not. None phased the wild man. Three seconds. That was the time between each ¡®whiff¡¯ as the crossbow fired, reloaded, and then fired again. The group ran left as the crossbow sent a second bolt Enkidu¡¯s way. ¡°Keep running!¡± Jelena said, holding Zilara¡¯s hand and helping her rush along. A second pillar waited, just within range of the crossbow¡¯s lower bounds. The crossbow swiveled, though Enkidu yet stood, as Jelena and company tripped some unseen sensor threshold. It started firing just as soon as Zilara¡¯s diminutive frame was in its mechanical sights. A kite shield blocked the bolt, then the next. Calaf stood as a stone wall, escorting Zilara and Jelena behind the second pillar. ¡°My hero,¡± Jelena said once they were safe. ¡°I owe you one later.¡± Zilara snickered. ¡°That means Hoss is giving you an extra dose of luvin¡¯ in the tent tonight.¡± ¡°Children shouldn¡¯t talk like that. Though it happens to be true.¡± Jelena coughed to clear her throat. ¡°Back to business. We¡¯ve still got, what, twenty paces to get to the door?¡± The crossbow swiveled back and forth, angled steeply downward to ensure nobody escaped its domain. It could fire down directly onto the doorway it was perched over. ¡°Have an idea,¡± Calaf said. He tossed his spear up and caught it overhand. He prepped his shield to cover most of his torso; it would be impossible to do this without a bolt or two being fired. Calaf swiveled out of cover. The first bolt hit his kite shield. Then, he let loose:
Special Technique: Thrown Spear Effect: Chuck Your Spear at An Enemy (Not Recommended Mid-Fight!)
The spear flew true. A second bolt hit his shield, closer to the edge now. Still, the spear sailed in an arc. The crossbow¡¯s targeting mechanism (correctly) identified the spear as the more immediate threat. By the time it got a third bolt off, though, the spear was already jammed through its stirrup and down its barrel. A string pulled back to fire another bolt, then another. By then the mechanism determined it was jammed and so returned to a neutral state, deactivated. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Whew. Good thinking.¡± Jelena hugged Calaf. Then, she whispered: ¡°I owe you a great many ones. Let¡¯s set up an IOU system, huh? Oh, and, uh, let¡¯s find a way to get that spear back¡­¡±
Enkidu tossed Calaf up to the roof to, first, permanently stultify the automatic crossbow and, secondly, retrieve his spear. A swift kick to the ammo belt prevented the crossbow from reloading. The belt slunk back through some divot in the wall just as soon as it snapped off the crossbow. There was no way to follow, and no clue as to where the belt had retreated to. Mission complete, Calaf pulled his spear out of the crossbow. With the way clear, the group entered the drydock offices. ¡°Huh.¡± Jelena kicked a bit of metal scrap on the floor. Evidence of a prior altercation loomed. There were remnants of three automatons, as well as a great deal of blood near the doors where some poor fool stepped on a tripwire. Zilara and Calaf took point, their heightened perceptive abilities on the lookout for traps. There were many broken tripwires but no active traps. A warm glow of a campfire came from a short courtyard towards the back of the building. Another party was here. The group heard murmurs and stomped about a bit louder to announce their presence. ¡°Someone else? In the offseason?¡± came a cynical, growly voice from the courtyard. Calaf walked out first, shield present but not raised in defense. A narrow safe zone existed in the backyard of this dock office between the building and a short fence. A group of three had deployed their camp item here, even though it was barely midday. ¡°You lost too?¡± asked the nominal leader, a scout-type class. ¡°Where are my manners? Come, sit by the fire awhile. And please, take a gander at my Interface:¡±
Name: Mikail of Firefield
Rank: Vanguard
Level 65
Status: 324/324 (Hard to Read, Befuddled)
Weapons: Twin Redstone Twirling Knives +15 (x2)
¡°Mikail?¡± Calaf did a double take to ensure he¡¯d read the Interface right. ¡°Is that you?¡± The former Vanguard had grown a slight beard since the pair last met. They¡¯d been part of Paladin Kai and Karol¡¯s party on the old crusader¡¯s trail. After disaster struck, Mikail had taken his wages and departed, disbanding the party. He¡¯d leveled up a great deal in the interim. No doubt Mikail was here now to rank up into a proper Scout. ¡°That replacement Shielder?¡± Mikail¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Hey, seen Gael lately?¡± Calaf shrugged. ¡°Wanted to stay near the Battletower. That was, what, a year ago? Who knows.¡± The rest of the group approached. ¡°Friend of yours?¡± Jelena motioned at Mikail. ¡°Something like that.¡± The remaining two members of Mikail¡¯s party were a blonde Seer, a type of midranking Cleric, and a lower-level Vanguard. The Seer¡¯s name was Yonah while the Vanguard¡¯s Interface listed him as Riordan. "Hey there," said Riordan. "First time dungeon diving? Me too. It''s so... hardcore!" Calaf looked upon this fellow curiously. "That''s right. Got to be real hardcore to survive in the church''s official dungeons. If you''re not hardcore you''d better turn back now. There was a second party who bailed before the riverbed flooded. Guess they just weren''t hardcore enough." A stifled groan escaped Calaf''s mouth. His jaw clenched up. Duly, he noted that the Menu blessed all types, and all were equal under its user interface. "Hardcore!" punctuated the prospective scout. The cleric, Yonah, didn''t say much at all. This was more up to Calaf''s speed, even if the welcome from her wasn''t necessarily warm either. ¡°Our hired tank and a crimson mage got eviscerated by traps,¡± Mikail explained through gritted teeth. ¡°Tried advancing forward but that auto-crossbow blocked our route. Flooding happened just as soon as we cleared the riverbed so we can¡¯t go back.¡± Remnants of Mikail''s group sat by the campfire. The item was recently used, and so the flames burnt brightest. ¡°You came from over there?¡± Calaf pointed behind the fence. ¡°Odd, we came from the other direction.¡± ¡°Our dashing Squire solved your crossbow issue,¡± Jelena said, looking at Calaf. ¡°Ahem. Yes. The way is clear¡­ but it seems like the layout is designed to send us in a loop.¡± The ¡®dungeon¡¯ was repurposed from a block or two of (formerly) riverside docks. Every street was not meant to lead to a climatic encounter and an adjacent treasure room. That was done via design. As if by an unseen hand. ¡°This is awfully¡­ intense¡­ as a religious institution,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Think there would be more of a focus on quiet medication or at least some aspect of the Scout¡¯s life.¡± The other party shrugged. It was a dungeon. What did Calaf expect, a guided tour? But this got at the heart of something the Squire had grappled with long before he¡¯d fallen in with Jelena. The pilgrimage route, the very manner in which faithful advanced up the levels and ranks ¨C it was primarily based around combat. A few noncombat roles existed; blacksmiths could earn a healthy number of ranks based entirely on their craft, as could farmers. Even bishops and deacons spent the formative years of their careers out in the field fighting dire-beasts rather than tending to the needy. Why was that? ¡°Well, we¡¯re stuck here until we can figure out where we¡¯re supposed to go,¡± Mikail said. ¡°Got ale if you need it.¡± Zilara tugged on Jelena¡¯s shoulder and whispered something into the posse leader¡¯s ear. She nodded to Enkidu, who escorted her back into the building. ¡°Y¡¯know if the kid needed to take a leak the camps come with a built-in latrine,¡± said Riordan, who was ignored. The group waited, none the wiser to Zilara¡¯s intentions. ¡°Here to rank up, I presume?¡± Calaf asked Mikail, The Vanguard nodded. "That''s exactly right." Riordan shouted. "We''re here to grab the Scout''s level up material early and prove we''re hardcore." However does such a highly visible and always-audible Scout manage to operate in stealth? Calaf wondered. Yonah, the diminutive cleric, raised her hand. "Um, I was traveling south for my annual pilgrimage. But I just woke up in the desert not long ago," she said. "I tried retracing my steps but the caravan I was with had already moved on. I tried following them into the delta but got lost until I found Mister Mikail here by chance. They needed a healer, and I-I wasn''t supposed to take a hit so my level shouldn''t have mattered..." Another victim of the Piper Demon. Calaf did not recall turning her around in that secluded valley and sending her back. Perhaps Yonah here had been charmed and started out over the dunes, only to stop when the demon''s song was cut off and awakened with the dawn. ¡°Well, that, and¡ª¡± Mikail leaned in close. ¡°¡ªrumor has it that someone wants to rebuild the Thieves Guild right and proper. Figured the thief¡¯s dungeon was the proper place for it, so I came to try and introduce myself. Also figured it¡¯d be nice to rank up to Thief before I do so, yeah? Only, they don¡¯t seem to be operating out of here.¡± Calaf examined their surroundings. ¡°Place is too hard to find. They¡¯ll set up shop where they can hawk wares to laypeople. Launder gold. Generally operate alongside ¡®legitimate¡¯ merchants.¡± Port Town truly was the best possible place for a guild of thieves. Maybe Plains Junction or Firefield in a pinch. But the docks were ideal for offloading, unloading, and smuggling. ¡°Huh.¡± Mikail shrugged, acknowledging the point. ¡°The call just went out not but a day or two ago. Figured they might not just be set up yet.¡± Shortly thereafter, Zilara and Enkidu returned. ¡°Found the way out!¡±
The two parties ¨C well, full party and the half a remaining one ¨C returned to the drydocks. ¡°So there¡¯s often crawlspaces in these things so that workers can get under the boats. Pry off dire-barnacles,¡± Zilara explained. ¡°The crossbow was one giant distraction. But¡­¡± The group looked out over a drydock pit. There was indeed a narrow passageway at the bottom running under the office building. ¡°You could dive in there and pretty easily dodge the crossbow entirely.¡± ¡°Good eye, kiddo.¡± Jelena patted her on the head. ¡°Well, we know the way forward. Anyone have a clue as to where this leads?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve read some guides and testaments about the dungeon,¡± Mikail said. ¡°Should be one last chamber, then the rank up material will be in a closet around back.¡± And whatever hidden treasure trove Gustavo alluded to in his scribbled notes would be hidden away somewhere deeper still. ¡°Well, tanks in front,¡± Riordan insisted. ¡°Yes, dear, after you,¡± Jelena said, chipper. With a nod, Calaf jumped into the dry dock. He took point, shield up.
Chapter Ninety-Four: Cold Metal Chassis
The underground maintenance tunnel appeared newer than the rotting old surface docks. All doors were locked, so when the tunnel turned a sharp right the expanded party had no choice but to follow. ¡°Chamber widens ahead,¡± Mikail said, putting his Scout senses to good use. Sure enough, the chamber opened into a round arena of sorts. There was no telling what use it had served in the Old Docks. Light streamed from broken windows far above. ¡°Think we¡¯re in a sinkhole,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Built this pit around it, build a warehouse fa?ade up there.¡± ¡°Stay alert,¡± Jelena warned. The sinkhole had collapsed the ground floor of an ancient warden¡¯s office at some point when the docks were still ocean-facing. The new basement was adapted into the layout of the building. A set of pegs along the far wall that could have been a vestigial remnant of a stairwell. ¡°Whole floor is covered in pressure plates,¡± Zilara said. ¡°We could tip-toe around them, but¡­¡± There were doors on the ¡®ground¡¯ floor above, with no way to get to them. Otherwise the chamber was a dead end. Either they turned around and left the dungeon, or they tripped whatever ambush was so carefully devised for this room. ¡°No choice. Do we know what we¡¯re up against here?¡± Jelena asked. Calaf shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s never come up.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a divot in the center of the floor. Bet somethings going to pop out of it,¡± Zilara said. ¡°Ready as we¡¯ll ever be,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Calaf, dear, press a plate.¡± Pressure plates were handily outlined with Calaf¡¯s Thief¡¯s Lockpick-infused perceptive abilities. Calaf pressed one down with his heavy boot. A dozen simultaneous clunking sounds echoed in the chamber as every pressure plate dropped at once. The central divot did indeed open, and out of it¡­
Name: Gustavo¡¯s Sentry Totem
Rank: Automaton, Ancient Construct
Level 86
Status: 1600/1600 (Grounded)
Weapons: - Heartbeat-tracking blade saws (x120) - Omnidirectional Flame belcher (x36) - Rooted Turret Defensive Spikes (Fixed Fortification) - Protocol: Clear the Room
A towering automation filled the chamber, rising clear to the termite-riven ceiling. Buzzsaws popped out of its chassis at multiple elevations A sea of spikes deployed at its base, preventing them from cutting the totem down like a piece of Deepwood lumber. Not that they¡¯d have time to do so with an array of dozens of flamer units circling the chassis both clockwise and anticlockwise. Slender bursts of flame set the ground floor ablaze. Meanwhile, a stairwell emerged from a divot on the far wall. ¡°We¡¯re in a wooden building,¡± Calaf said. ¡°It¡¯s going to burn it all down.¡± ¡°It¡¯s probably enchanted,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Just look for an opening. Whole dungeon¡¯s built with a series of big encounters like this. It wants us to stick to some script and notice some pattern.¡± Right. This was all an elaborate play by which Scout-type classes could earn the right to rank up. It was designed to be beaten by an at-level team with great rapport. Here they had a party and a half. That was more than enough. Still, the dungeon seemed rather dangerous for a simple test of skill. The group moved clockwise around the totem, as that¡¯s the direction the flame belchers were tracking. Riordan sent out a smoke bomb. ¡°Don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to work,¡± Mikail said. The flames yet pursued them. Jelena pushed Zilara to the stairs, the one place these ground-based flamers lacked the range to scald. She motioned to the rest of the group, and they all ran up the stairscase. ¡°Okay. Zil. Fist full of lightning!¡± Jelena said as they ran. Zilara cast her lightning spell. Electricity arced along the totem, and along the floor below. But the mechanical beast was not stunned like the mobile variants. ¡°It¡¯s because it¡¯s grounded,¡± Mikail said. ¡°Rooted in place.¡± They hadn¡¯t even made it to the first proper floor before the totem swiveled to track them. Buzzsaws slid down divots in the chassis. They stopped at-level with the party¡¯s necklines, traking them around the semicircular stairs with some sensor, and jutted forward. Calaf parried a set of three away with his shield, while Yonah took a minor nick from a saw at the front of the pack. ¡±Exhilarating!¡± Riordan proclaimed. ¡°Every Scout has to survive this gauntlet? That¡¯s so¡­¡± The totem swiveled about, its ¡®face¡¯ tracking them. Then, twin doors popped out of the chassis as six mechanical stalks and a proboscis emerged. Mikail jammed some Scout ability to heighten dodging and decrease detection. Riordan opened his Menu to do the same¡­ only to find himself hoisted into the air on those slender metal feelers. He was dragged into the metal chassis, and poked by the proboscis as the doors slammed shut with a sick gushing noise. Blood flowed through the totem within clear, minuscule tubing. The totem swiveled faster, still, with additional flame units and buzzsaws emerging. A fleet of vertically-aligned buzzsaws started at the base of the stares and swiftly ascended. Just then, the party reached the top of the stairs¡­ with no apparenty access. ¡°Where do we go?¡± Jelena asked. There was a conspicuous keyhole in the wall. ¡°It ¨C it¡¯s the key from the riverbed chest,¡± Yonah said, still looking back and expecting Riordan to be there. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°The river was flooded!¡± Calaf said. They were at a dead end ¨C saws coming up the stairs and utterly exposed to the flamers and grabbers of the central totem. This wasn¡¯t a test of a Scout¡¯s skillset; more an endurance gauntlet to check one¡¯s Endurance stat. ¡°Not for us it wasn¡¯t,¡± said Mikail. He summoned forth an overlarge key from his Inventory and selected [Use]. The key took, and a smaller new flight of stairs appeared. An entire new floor made of wooden floorboards and ready-made supports assembled itself just ahead. The remaining party rushed to relative safety with Calaf
This new ¡®ground floor¡¯ consisted of a series of walkways. It didn¡¯t cover the entire level as there were plenty of holes in the floor. No further stairs appeared, and the top of the totem was still two stories above them. ¡°Gah,¡± Mikail said, biting his tongue. ¡°Riordan had the other item.¡± No further word had been heard from Riordan since disappearing into the totem. The prognosis was not good. A series of flame belchers on long stalks chased the group around the walkways. Though they could be chopped off at the slender wire, there was always another to take its place. ¡°What does it look like?¡± Enkidu asked. ¡°The item? Big puzzle block,¡± Mikail responded, still running from a buzzsaw. ¡°Stay alive for¡­ twenty. No, thirty seconds.¡± The ¡®coffin¡¯ section of the central chassis followed them up the totem via some unknown mechanism. Enkidu stood conspicuously close to the center until the automaton noticed him. The armored coffin opened¡­ and Enkidu leapt in prematurely.
The totem swiveled, on the lookout for additional prey. ¡°We¡¯re rapidly dwindling in numbers!¡± Mikail said. ¡°Yonah, to me. I¡¯m going to use an Escape Rope. Better to live and have an opportunity to restart than¡­¡± ¡°Give him a moment!¡± Jelena said. The twin doors shuddered before bursting open unprompted. Enkidu appeared, simultaneously holding a gore blob while grappling with multiple mechanical arms. ¡°Take it,¡± he yelled, then chucked the gore-blob to Jelena. No sooner did this key item clear the totem than did Their intrepid relic thief caught the object. She dodged three buzzsaws and a flamer to run this blood-covered puzzle box to Mikail. The Vanguard solved the issue of fishing this Item out of the gore pile remnants of Riordan¡¯s corpse by throwing it all into his Inventory. He nimbly dodged a set of vertical saws and kept a keen eye peeled for the next divot. ¡°Vanguard guy. Over there.¡± Zilara pointed. Another set of indents in the wall indicated their path upward. An indent in the wall contained It was good that Mikail¡¯s team collected all these items for us, Calaf thought. Theoretically, you could scale the walls without the keys that open the next floor. But doing so under literal fire was nobody¡¯s idea of a good time. The automated totem initiated some defensive maneuvers. Flamers lit up the area ahead of Mikail. Yonah¡¯s robe caught alight at the hem and she wheeled back. ¡°Cast your burn healing spell,¡± Mikail pleased. Too late! Yonah backpedaled right down a pit. Mikail tried reaching for her but could not afford to stop his beeline for the far wall. Down she fell, back into the basement. The Interface-compatible wall socket awaited. Mikail pulled his Menu out early and placed the puzzle box in the socket. A loud splashing sound rose over the din of battle. ¡°Guys? The basement is flooding.¡± Zilara was looking down into one of the pits. ¡°Fast, too.¡± ¡°It wants me to solve some weird ball puzzle!¡± Mikail said. ¡°Better hurry up then!¡± Jelena said. ¡°Zilara, go help him out.¡± Calaf stood on the walkway leading toward this puzzle interface. He blocked and parried all manner of blades and flame belchers. They seemed designed to home in on this position growing more numerous by the second. With a hefty clang from within the interior wall, the stairs began to assemble themselves. They needed no signal to retreat up each step as soon as they manifested. The totem¡¯s HP was going down ever-so-slowly. It dropped down fifty points in the time it took them to climb to the next floor. ¡°What¡¯s hurting it?¡± Calaf wondered aloud. He realized even as he said it that it was due to Enkidu, still stabbing it from the inside. No further blood-based buff was applied to the totem. They were rapidly running out of room. Wide glass windows let in the late afternoon sun while significantly increasing the humidity. This was, finally, on the ¡®ground floor¡¯ of the building. While there was a second floor consisting of more walkways over elevated rooms, the way ahead was locked and the totem¡¯s ¡®head¡¯ was now leering at them at eye level. The head of the towering, rooted automaton was curved into a bronze dire-bull¡¯s face and horns. The mouth was open, while steam from an interior furnace vented through the dire-beast¡¯s nose and ears. Calaf ran forward and tanked the jet of flame that burst from the totem¡¯s mouth. Flame reduction on the kite shield turned a deadly blow into something more survivable. Zilara aimed a heal or two his way to keep the one viable tank operating. Water lapped at the stairwell. It was filling up faster, now. What would it do when it reached the ground floor? Surely the entire customs house was not watertight. If it was, they¡¯d rapidly run out of floor space to walk and air to breathe. A great clanking sound from within the totem coincided with a dozen HP shaved off its Menu designation. The dire-bull head went lopsided, then fell clear off with a weld-shatter screech. It was Enkidu, run through with a dozen blood-sucking proboscises but with no time to bleed. Interior wiring revealed a network of tubes and containers that made the head-mounted interior furnace and flame-belcher. It was all tied around a whirring gear-core. ¡°The weak point is here,¡± Enkidu declared. Stab and jab though Enkidu did, the tight nest of gears remained intact. Too dense to penetrate. HP dropped from the automaton at a steady but glacial pace. Water levels continued to rise. Even Enkidu, he who dismembered a demon bare-handed, would not be able to damage it before they were underwater. ¡°Plunging attack,¡± Zilara said. ¡°You¡¯re sure that will kill it?¡± Jelena asked. The holy child nodded. ¡°I¡¯m reading the metadata. It¡¯s the expected method of clearing this.¡± Jelena turned to Calaf. ¡°Over the top, honey. I¡¯ll give you a boost.¡±
Mikail started scaling the stubs and rubble along the walls when he heard Zilara¡¯s analysis. The less-dexterous Calaf had to make do with a ledge just a bit higher than his arm span could reasonably reach. Jelena helped him up. Onward, Calaf climbed. The totem had no defenses up here. Neither were there any traps. The threat instead came from the precarious walkways. Calaf¡¯s boots barely fit on the catwalk, which groaned under his weight. This would be an easy victory lap for a Scout, but madness for a Paladin. Regardless, Calaf trudged onward. Mikhail reached the drop-off point ¨C a dead drop at the center of the room, over the totem, and plunged. His knives struck the core, exposing a central ¡®brain¡¯ of gears and pincushion circuits within. A second strike from above would be required. ¡°Water¡¯s up to our boots,¡± Jelena announced. With its weak point exposed, the totem pulled out new implements. Sparking prods popped out of divots just below where the bull¡¯s head used to be. ¡°It¡¯s going to shock the water!¡± Calaf said, still rushing as swiftly as he could along the narrow catwalks. Jelena tossed Zilara up to the high catwalks, then jumped up on a now-floating box. It would provide some protection, but likely not enough. Enkidu, still grappling with the machine¡¯s internal security deep in the chassis, reached up and grabbed the live wires himself. It bought crucial time, at the expense of having all those sparks flowing through him instead. If they didn¡¯t have a second-party member ready to dive, this encounter would be perilous, indeed. Calaf jumped. He angled his spear downward. His kite shield was also out, to deflect any last-minute blows. Gravity and plunging attacks were not, strictly speaking, covered by the Menu. Gravity did compound formulas for various damage calculations. Some Battlemage would know the exact damage bonus. Regardless, Calaf¡¯s heavy redstone spear-tip plunged into the now-exposed gearwork of the turret totem. A full two-thirds of the contraption¡¯s HP disintegrated in an instant. Heavy armor and a particularly powerful weapon did more damage than Mikail¡¯s entire sortie. Unlike a living organism, the creature shut down the moment its HP reached zero. There was no negative value, representing decay. Maybe if they rusted for years the health bar could eventually dip down to -1, but there were no old husks left about the docks to test that out. Wherever did they go? A thermal vent deep within the totem died down. The internal engine died. The totem began to sink into the waters. Before Calaf could jump off, something grabbed him. He looked down in time to see Enkidu clambering out of the rapidly-flooding chassis. The pair dropped down into waist-deep water. They stopped moving ¨C there was no way to determine where the holes in the floor would send them plunging into a basement full of water. No sooner did the bare ¡®face¡¯ of the totem disappear into the water than did a dull thunk sound from deep in the basement. The water began to sink back down from whence it came. ¡°Doors are unlocking up here,¡± Zilara said. Jelena pushed her box to the nearest ledge as soon as the receding water levels allowed. Mikail was over in a corner, trying to find high ground to avoid the electric shock that never came. ¡°That seems a bit too intense for a church-sanctioned class-based final exam,¡± Zilara said. Acoustics caused the holy child¡¯s voice to reverberate throughout the chamber. ¡°Maybe it detected there were more of us than typical for a standard party and it entered some kind of enhanced mode?¡± Calaf suggested. The question hung in the air. The totem sunk back through the divot in the floor, and the water flowed with it. Once the water sunk into the divots on the basement floor, a familiar voice rose over the vestigial din of machinery. ¡°Everyone. Did we win?¡± Down in the basement, Yonah still lived! She waited down there, water-logged robes weighing her down. Before she could return the ground floor, the stairs retreated into their divots in the wall. The area was resetting itself. ¡°We¡¯ll have Enkidu come and rescue you,¡± Jelena suggested, much to Enkidu¡¯s chagrin. Just as the path down into the basement removed itself, the paths and doors to the second floor opened. Mikail wasted no time in heading up. This would be the reward room, no doubt. ¡°C¡¯mon.¡± Jelena offered Calaf her hand. ¡°We still need to find this hidden stash Gustavo¡¯s laid out. Job¡¯s only just begun.¡±
Chapter Ninety-Five: Termite-Ridden Bones
This building was an old harbormaster¡¯s office. A customs house for Port Town, some centuries ago, before the river pushed the shoreline forward significantly. It was customary to reward treasure at the end of dungeons. Calaf and Jelena encountered one such gestalt dungeon a while ago where the rewards were themselves another trap. As a church-sanctioned holy place celebrating the Scout from the Ancient Heroes of Yore, the rewards here ought to have been legit. Mikail was already looting the place by the time Calaf¡¯s group arrived. ¡°What¡¯ve we got?¡± Zilara asked all matter-of-factly. The level-up item here was a box of contraband. Mikail took one and summoned it into his Inventory before Calaf could properly read the description. ¡°Here¡¯s another one,¡± Zilara said.
Item: Sacred Box of Contraband Description: Box of goods personally handled by the ancient Scout of yore himself. Allows for ranking up to Scout for all appropriate prerequisite classes.
¡°Goanna take it,¡± Zilara said, then did so. ¡°Never know when it¡¯ll come in handy.¡± Calaf nodded. There were a few other trinkets, mostly items of value to church faithful. Mikail and Zilara both took the time to loot the place of these valuables for latter relic-hawking. By the time they pilfered the place, Enkidu arrived with Yonah. ¡°Thank you so much for saving me,¡± the young cleric-aspirant said, to the usual grumbling acknowledgment from Enkidu. ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± Mikail said to Calaf¡¯s party at large. ¡°C¡¯mon, Yonah. We¡¯re going to see if we can find what¡¯s left of Riordan. Gotta loot him too, give him, I dunno, some kind of burial.¡± Judging by that previous gore bauble, there wasn''t enough left of poor Riordan to commit to the crypts. At least his demise was hardcore. It was how he''d wanted to go, is what the group told themselves to avoid the gibbed-into-past demise of their underleveled comrade. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ stay with them.¡± Yonah clinging near Enkidu. ¡°We¡­ operate on the opposite side of the law,¡± Jelena said. ¡°We¡¯ll take company, but, well, do you want to run with us?¡± Yonah nodded slowly. ¡°E-even coming here this early was Riordan¡¯s idea. And, well, h-he¡¯s gone now. I¡¯d just feel safer in numbers.¡± Again, the Seer shuffled closer to Enkidu, to a knowing smirk from Jelena and confusion from Calaf. ¡°Very well.¡± Mikail saw himself out. Now the group stood in a narrow treasure room ¨C a glorified storage closet ¨C with no obvious way forward. ¡°Let¡¯s see. The dungeon dedicated to dexterity and agility ought to have¡­¡± Jelena knocked on the walls, searching for false walls or hollow spaces. Zilara snickered, evidently catching something in her Menu-enhanced sight. Calaf peered at the far wall, guessing where Zilara was looking. ¡°I see it,¡± he announced. ¡°Pressure plate under this book¡­¡± Calaf took the book into his inventory. It was a collection of church hymns. Anachronistic, as the church was in its infancy when these docks would have been in use. With the book gone, the pressure plate gave way. A false ceiling moved aside, and a ladder fell. ¡°Good thinking.¡± Jelena patted Calaf¡¯s armor affectionately.
The group let themselves up, one at a time. Yonah arrived last. They moved confident of the fact that there should not be any traps in this area. Upstairs was a plain administrative floor otherwise purposefully bricked off at the doorways and all windows wide enough to sneak through. A Menu-applicable plaque sat in the dark. Calaf read it out for the unbranded. ¡°Here lies the harbormaster¡¯s offices. Fleet of foot Gustavo long called this space his home. Truly, these wharves are most holy and blessed under the Menu.¡± The harbormaster¡¯s quarters contained a side chamber with a cot in an ancient style. The threads were dusty and threadbare with age. Everything was preserved perfectly in stasis. Frozen in time in the instant the last harbormaster left the desk. ¡°So, this is where that Gustavo fellow lived?¡± Zilara asked, frowning. ¡°Evidently.¡± Jelena stroked her chin. ¡°The treasure map said¡­¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°To seek out his old home. But there¡¯s nothing here.¡± Something wasn¡¯t quite right. The preserved harbormaster¡¯s office was immaculate despite the age. But everything was draped in the airs of officialdom. Paperwork sat on the desk, waiting to be signed. The windows would¡¯ve offered a full three-sixty view of the entire docks before it all got sealed with layers of masonry. The person who lived here was the master of the harbor, true to the title. They would have commanded authority. From this high vantage point, Gustavo would have been a highly visible figure. Everything a Scout class was not. Certainly everything that a Thief was not. ¡°This isn¡¯t his quarters,¡± Calaf said. ¡°At least, not really. Officially, sure, per church decree. But I suspect there¡¯s something more to the room.¡± Jelena and Zilara nodded understandingly. The room was set up this way intentionally. A museum piece for worship. It was a reflection of how the church wanted adherents who made it to the pinnacle of the pilgrimage leveling circuit to think their holy trailblazer behaved. ¡°You mean this place is¡­ not the office of our most holy scout?¡± Yonah cocked her head to one side. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. Why, this space is a church-sanctioned holy zone. That would imply that our deacons and bishops were lying. And that¡¯s ¨C ha ¨C that¡¯s ridiculous! The Menu¡¯s very existence is evidence of its immaculate and self-evident truth.¡± ¡°Heh. She¡¯s talking like your boyfriend used to, Hoss.¡± Calaf scanned the room. So much of it was likewise anachronistic. The paperwork on the desk made it obvious; in those ancient days written records would have come on scrolls. ¡°There¡¯s another floor here,¡± Calaf said. ¡°Or some secret.¡± ¡°Lemme speed this up,¡± Zilara said with a whistle. ¡°That air duct against the west wall. It¡¯s placed directly under those bricked-over windows.¡± They had Enkidu tear the hinges off this air duct. There was just barely enough crawlspace for everyone to get through. The light coming through the windows above were indeed fake. This didn¡¯t lead outside, but further into the building. Calaf had to unequip his armor. But they went in, Enkidu then Jelena then Calaf, then Yonah, then Zilara as the smallest. Sending Enkidu in first was Jelena¡¯s bright idea ¨C it would confirm that the tallest among them was able to shimmy through here. Everyone who came next would have no problem. ¡°Always layers with this place,¡± Jelena said as she crawled through the duct. ¡°Getting¡¯ a nice view?¡± Zilara asked Calaf, two spots ahead of her. ¡°Hmmph.¡± Calaf pouted but did not respond.
The ducts led to a dead-end junction somewhere deep in the rafters. A time-ruined cot sat in the corner, dwarfed by collections of contraband of all kinds. It was a messy alcove clearly used for long stake outs and furtive dealings. Which is to say, a perfect dwelling for a Scout or a Thief. ¡°Breadcrumbs, followed,¡± Jelena declared. A withered diary sat on the bed. It crumbled to dust when Jelena touched it sans the Interface. Zilara threw it in her Inventory long enough to confirm the pages were blank. What remained intact, though, was a bit of scroll patchwork hidden in the pages and folded tight. ¡°Guess they built these things to last,¡± Jelena said. ¡°Glad I didn¡¯t accidentally disintegrate our evidence.¡± Calaf took the scroll into his Inventory and examined it that way.
Item: End of One Trail (Gustavo¡¯s Less-Furtive Penmanship.) Description: You¡¯ve come. It seems someone outside this hot-as-hell swamp still has a spark of curiosity about them. Now, for your reward, you can have anything from my personal stash here. This scroll will also contain the unabridged start of Mia¡¯s testament. Reckon there¡¯s a good chance the outside world won¡¯t have access to or interest in firsthand sources of knowledge soon. At least literacy shouldn¡¯t take a hit with everyone Menu-shackled now. Hope you can still read. Come down and have a chat, will you?
The rest of the scroll was written in the archaic officialdom of the church. Even the handwriting was different. But this scribbling pre-script, however, was plain. Maybe the spelling was archaic in a few places but it was not so different than any letter people would write in the current day. Zilara and Calaf handled a trade window, passing the scroll to the former for deciphering. Then Calaf returned to scanning the room with Interface-enhanced sight. A shaft in the back of the room contained a bridge. A portcullis really. It was held up by a readily visible set of ropes and a lock. Jelena cleared this with another thrown knife, and a false wall fell down, forming a natural ramp into yet another warehouse. The group could hear the whirring gears from here. But they followed the letter¡¯s invitation downward. Rows of strange mechanical storage boxes full of gears sat interconnected by wires. The architecture here was different. Metal, built to last and keep the rains and river out. Calaf felt as if they¡¯d ventured into the dungeon''s guts and were now rooting around. ¡°I¡­ wish to go no further,¡± Yonah said from the ramp. ¡°Going off the church-assigned path. It¡¯s unnatural!¡± ¡°Well, Gustavo¡¯s room should be clear,¡± said Jelena. ¡°Umm¡­¡± Yonah tugged at Enkidu¡¯s shirt. ¡°May he¡­ protect me?¡± After stifling a chortle, Jelena nodded. ¡°Sure. Any objections, ¡®Kido?¡± ¡°Very well.¡± He unsubtly but politely shrugged Yonah¡¯s hand off his cuff. ¡°Doubtless you will tell me what narrative-shattering revelations you find down there at our next camp.¡± The remaining three members of the group pressed onward, stepping over wiring and spark-inducing circuits.
The warehouse full of strange gears converged at a central point. An extra-large clockwork casing appeared dead-center, and before it, a simple pedestal. ¡°What does it want us to do?¡± Jelena asked. Zilara shrugged. ¡°The scroll doesn¡¯t say.¡± Even so, the holy child approached the pedestal. ¡°Hmmm. Some kind of station by which we¡¯re meant to interact with this thing.¡± They were treading where no pilgrim had tread before. Of course, nobody knew about that hidden pedestal, and traffic through the most dangerous part of one of the less straightforward dungeons was always lax. ¡°It has a receiver of sorts where we¡¯re supposed to talk. And another that may talk back¡­¡± Zilara said. ¡°Hmmm. Well, big button here. It¡¯s not of the Interface, but I think it says to press it.¡± They pressed the nodule, but nothing happened. ¡°Hold on.¡± Zilara said, crouching down to take a look under and inside the console. Calaf walked between the casings. He peered inside, observing interlocking layers of gears. On the nearest ¡®shelf¡¯ there was a mighty lever. ¡°Zilara, hands off the pedestal for now. I¡¯m going to try something.¡± ¡°Clear.¡± With a nod, Calaf pulled the lever. There was an internal spark, then a whiff as some gear lubricant was applied for the first time in ages. Then the first casing came to life in a whirring of ten-thousand clockwork pieces. The second case, then another activated. Then another. Soon all cases were whirring, the gears fading into a constant but subdued background hum after a while. Steam poured from the roof of every third shelf periodically, venting up to the ceiling by some unknown means. The receiver came to life. ¡°Prrrrrrzzzzt. Startup checks passed. Memory, passed¡­¡± The voice was oddly monotone, crackling unnaturally. Then, ¡°Input and output checks, passed. Buffering. Buffering. Buffering¡ª complete. Playback welcome response A-1: Ahoy, Ahoy. Is this thing on?¡±
Chapter Ninety-Six: Steam-Powered Soul
¡°Buffering. Buffering. Air pressure and moisture sensors detect exhalation. Someone is in the computational storage room,¡± said the ghostly voice through some strange series of mechanisms around the pedestal. ¡°I repeat, is this thing on? Or perhaps there¡¯s a problem with the output device drivers¡­ checking¡­ checking...¡± The gearbox to Calaf¡¯s immediate right whirred slightly louder. ¡°Uh, hello?¡± Zilara asked. ¡°Input received.¡± Again, spinning gears punctuated the sentence. ¡°Playback hearing-impairment apology loop C-23: Apologies for the poor audio environment. It was necessary to¡­ demonstrate¡­ that which you see now. No man behind the curtain shenanigans here.¡± ¡°What is this place?¡± Jelena raised an eyebrow. ¡°Who are you?¡± Zilara asked, simultaneously. The receiver homed in on Zilara¡¯s voice. ¡°Playback explanatory segment B-07-E: What you see before you¡­¡± there was a crackling of static. ¡°¡­ The last preserved testament of Gustavo, smuggler, thief, and trusted companion in the Liberation Party for the duration. Not like that late-comer Aldia with his fancy Battlemage brigades and tower full of oddities. No, sir. And/or madam.¡± The trio cocked their heads, as befuddled as Yonah had been a few rooms back. Luckily, the gearwork system predicted their confusion. ¡°Continued exposition dialogue segment N-345, rendition 2: This machine, buffering¡­ buffering¡­ is a predictive computational array set up to relay thoughts from Gustavo near the end of his life,¡± the machine said with a decidedly human chirp. ¡°Segue to audience participation query D-04: Ask away.¡± ¡°What does ¡®computational¡¯ mean?¡± Zilara asked. ¡°Initiate Null-answer script: Sorry. Each response had to be entered manually. Available reactions are limited. Perhaps try rephrasing your question to include keywords.¡± ¡°Are you¡­ alive?¡± Jelena asked. Gears spun, computing. ¡°Mortality and sapience explanatory segment G-03: This is the last preserved testament of Gustavo, smuggler, thief, and trusted companion in the Liberation Party for the duration. Life is¡­ a debatable proposition. This array can ¡®think¡¯ if by that you mean ''compute inputs and playback prerecorded statements''. Do you mean to ask ¡®Are you Gustavo?¡¯¡± Calaf nodded. Then, with no response, ¡°Um, yes.¡± ¡°Sapience explanatory segment N-02-A: Personhood is¡­ a debatable proposition. This array has the stored memories of Gustavo the Thief at level ninety-three, age seventy-five. There was a¡­ branching event, once memories were stored in the array.¡± ¡°What happened to Gustavo?¡± Calaf asked immediately. Whiiirrrrr. ¡°Return branching segmentation query C: I¡¯m sorry, the branching event occurred at age seventy-five for my biological originator. Information is sparse past that point. However, there was an¡­ retrieving¡­ retrieving¡­ incendiary explosive event¡­ recorded in the computational room¡¯s fireproof storage closet fetching date¡­ four hundred and fifty-eight years and¡­ three months¡­ ago. In light of the unique circumstances involving risk of infection and repurposed bodies, this is likely, retrieving quote, ¡®how I wanted to go out.¡¯¡± A chill ran down Calaf¡¯s spine. He wondered what would have influenced the famous and mighty ancient hero to immolate himself and entrust his dungeon and docks in the hands of this¡­ well, whatever this was. ¡°Initiate friendly invitation audio K-24 rendition 345: Feel free to go investigate,¡± said the machine. ¡°Censors are lax in that room. I recorded all this past tense, for reasons that should be obvious. It could always be something else.¡± Calaf nodded and excused himself. He walked to the back of the room in search of this storage closet. The machine they were ¡®talking¡¯ to had speakers all over the room. Calaf could not hear Zilara or Jelena¡¯s further questions, but he could certainly hear the answers. ¡°Sorry. Each answer had to be entered manually. Responses are limited.¡± This was the most common answer. It took a few tries each to word things in ways the machine could recognize. ¡°Retrieving clockwork simulacra response script A-1: The automatons are creatures of my own design. Spent three decades perfecting them. Getting them on the Menu was easy. Never quite got the proper leveling or gold-rewards to emulate killing living prey. If the algorithms continued to tweak them past a certain point people would catch on that the dungeon is being¡­ minded. Comes a time when you just have to commit to your changes and publish your work, yes?¡± ¡°Ah-ha, stiffing us on level-ups!¡± Zilara¡¯s shout echoed through the warehouse. ¡°Retrieving special sorry response V-345: Apologies,¡± the voice said, neutral. ¡°My biological originator may have compensation for you in that regard.¡± Calaf noticed that even that totem left him just shy of his next level, despite the prodigious level delta. Against dire-beasts he and Zilara would¡¯ve gained four-plus levels by now. The interrogation continued. ¡°¡­ long backstory response Z-45: after dedicating my life to preserving the ol¡¯ stomping grounds and building those self-replicating automatons, I devoted the remaining years of my life to constructing this machine.¡± ¡°¡­ the last communication attempt came from registered visitor¡­ Archbishop Morvin¡­ three¡­ hundred thirteen years and¡­ six months ago.¡± The name and timestamp were both harsh and off-syllable, as if constructed from various phrases all smashed together. Morvin¡­ Calaf recognized the name, but only just. Should be the birth name of a man who became Archpope three centuries past. The timeline matched up. The machine returned many ¡®Apologies,¡± messages past that point. By the time they¡¯d found info the machine had a response for, Calaf had discovered the storage closet ¡®Gustavo¡¯ was referring to.
A charred skeleton sat in what was left of a chair made of Deepwood. There was a desk with contents dusty from age but otherwise preserved.
Name: Gustavo, Smuggler and Thief
Rank: Thief This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Level: 93
Status: -6545667/900 (Dead)
A rudimentary mouthpiece device sat, ruined with age, on the desk, free from the flames. However hundreds of phrases were recorded into the steam machine in gestalt approximation of a soul. Whether the machine possessed the requirements necessary to count as ensouled was a question for the ecumenical council. Calaf shuffled closer to the dried-up, half-cindered corpse at the chair. It was him. Gustavo, one of the Ancient Heroes of Yore. He¡¯d set himself on fire and the resulting corpse just¡­ remained here through the centuries. Calaf sensed he was the only person to check this room in four hundred years. The thought proved¡­ humbling. A letter remained on the desk; its bottom half fried by the ancient flames. And on the table sat multiple baubles¡­ Calaf examined the letter.
Item: Gustavo¡¯s Last Will Description: So, you found me. Hopefully you found the historical documents tucked into my latest diary. This new ¡®church¡¯ doesn¡¯t exactly poke through things with a fine-toothed comb. Aldia will no doubt balk at my plans, here. He¡¯s back at the Battletower where he¡¯s stayed since the Demon King died. I assure you, dear reader, that my fate and gestalt simulation of immortality out there is a far fairer fate than Aldia¡¯s insane attempt to appease the concept of entropy. Demons shackled me for long enough. I¡¯ll be damned if the rot finds a way to get me. I¡¯ll die here, thank you very much. P.S: Take these baubles. I was never able to find out how to get automatons to grant proper XP rewards. Maybe the difference engine has figured it out in my absence, but doubtful. Trust me, you¡¯ll need the boost. Why, mayhaps you will (error: burn damage).
And sharing tablespace¡­
Item: Gargantuan, Refined Azure Level Up Bauble of Agility (x5) Description: Provides extensive experience points to a single target when used. Weighs next level-up stat distribution towards Agility. Effect can stack.
¡®Extensive¡¯ ¨C the other baubles explained how much experience they provided. Gustavo had edited this forbidden contraband before his death. To think that mere possession of an unmodified relic such as this could get an entire settlement purged by the same church of which he was a founding compatriot. Still, Calaf suspected just one would be enough to push him over the edge to level fifty-one.
Calaf returned to the computational array room, baubles in his Inventory. ¡°¡­ would you like to hear a recording of the previous conversation with¡­ brrrzzt... Archbishop Morvin?¡± Zilara shook her head. ¡°Sounds boring. We were hoping to ask you about this.¡± Testament of Gustavo popped out of the holy child¡¯s Inventory. ¡°Visual interrogation apology script: Sorry, no visual sensors are available. You¡¯ll have to read it aloud or utilize my translation services in the dedicated scanning port.¡± A narrow slit perfect for inserting a scroll sat beneath the receivers. It was not Interface-compatible. Jelena took the scroll and fed it through, careful not to fray the ancient parchment. The gears overclocked. Steam filled the roof of their chamber so thick that they half expected it to rain. Perhaps the vents would still work, or perhaps the rain would ruin these gear casings and their sensitive components. The scroll was returned through the slot. And adjacent to one of the gear-towers, a press came to life. Page after page was constructed before their eyes. Individual letters and symbols representing the church¡¯s standard alphabet rearranged themselves in an automated process. Thirty or forty pages waited in a neat pile. ¡°Transcription work in progress snippet A-3: By my estimates, the laypeople¡¯s text should remain relatively static in the future. It¡¯s the church script that¡¯s all thee this and thou that. Feel free to translate it yourself. No reason to blindly trust strange calculation machines found in a Port Town basement!¡± ¡°Thank you, Gustavo,¡± Calaf said with a nod. ¡°Sorry. Each answer had to be entered manually. Responses are limited.¡±
¡°Translation work complete message S-23: The testament contains instructions for where to find the next document. Like breadcrumbs, yes? It¡¯s in Aldia¡¯s hoighty-toighty chicken scratch, so it may be hard to read!¡± That was all the information they could gleam from this strange steam-and-gear powered ¡®thinking machine¡¯ for now. While they could return later, they would need more questions that the machine was capable of answering. ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll read all this over the campfire tonight.¡± Zilara took the delicate ancient scroll back into her Inventory. Jelena took the new paper, unbound and not Interface-compatible, and held on to it for safe keeping. Hopefully they wouldn¡¯t encounter a stiff breeze on their way out. ¡°Hey, thinking machine. Got a shortcut out of here?¡± ¡°Farewell script F-53-D: Back into my loft. Try the door,¡± said the mechanized approximation of their ancient hero. ¡°Feel free to pop by any time. It only opens from one side, but there¡¯s a hidden key under the cot.¡± ¡°You are handy,¡± Jelena said with a smirk. ¡°Sorry. Each answer had to be entered manually. Responses are limited.¡± The trio returned to Enkidu and Yonah, and the combined group saw themselves out. Rather than backtrack through the dungeon proper, this path led them under the warehouses and docks. The tunnels here were made of some strange metallic substance. Gustavo¡¯s automated voice sounded as they walked. ¡°Guided tour script S-12 part one: Yes, every damaged automaton is swept up and stripped for parts. In this way defenses can be recycled. Effective security can be guaranteed for an additional¡­ two hundred¡­ twenty-three years.¡± They passed by darkened chambers. Others were alight with sparks from some welding automaton, building battle units for the next party to either best or be dismembered by. ¡°He built all this by himself, huh?¡± Jelena asked. Enkidu only snorted, disinterested. ¡°S-should we even be here?¡± their guest, Yonah, asked, still cowering near Enkidu. ¡°It¡¯s a shortcut,¡± Zilara said. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡± Onward they walked. A flight of stairs ended in murky water. They were under the river. Luckily, the underground contained many bulwarks, and an alternate route presented itself. Along the way, they could peek out of hidden viewports and even hear elements of the docks outside. Like hidden dungeon-masters, spying on participants. ¡°It¡¯s flooded!¡± yelled a familiar, distant voice. ¡°Why the hell is it flooded? We¡¯ve been here before, it wasn¡¯t like this.¡± ¡°M-maybe it washed them away?¡± came a frightened, feminine voice. It was Jorge and Sarah. Calaf hazarded a peek. They were standing not far from the tunnel. If they could detect him through this narrow slit, they gave no indication. ¡°You¡¯re certain they came this way?¡± Jorge asked. Gerard, just barely visible from the narrow viewport, shrugged. ¡°They followed us,¡± Calaf whispered. ¡°C¡¯mon, we shouldn¡¯t stay here.¡± They could only hope Mikail wouldn¡¯t face harassment from these auxiliary arbiters. As a proven master Scout, he should be able to evade them well enough. If he was smart, he was already off the premises.
The group dropped Yonah off back at the Port Town gate. Reluctant to leave Enkidu though she was, Yonah said her goodbyes. ¡°Traveling with you all is just inviting heresy!¡± she proclaimed. ¡°Still, if my savior would be so kind as to send a letter along the pilgrimage path. I¡¯ll eagerly await a courier!¡± Good deed for the day done, the posse ran deep into the delta¡¯s forests. When they were certain none would or could track them, Calaf used another camp item. The group huddled over the fire. Days were growing longer, so they still had natural sun by which to read this testament. ¡°I¡¯ve been translating the original scroll as we¡¯ve walked,¡± Zilara explained, sitting in the center. ¡°If anything from that Gustavo-automaton¡¯s translation is different from the original article, I¡¯ll point it out.¡± ¡°Shall we?¡± Jelena said, her good eye glancing at Calaf. The Squire nodded. ¡°One last thing¡­¡± Calaf traded four Level Up Baubles to Zilara. Together, they popped them. Level up!
Calaf Leveled Up! Level 51
Strength: 52 (+1)
Endurance: 75
Agility: 33 (+5)
Intelligence: 25
Charisma: 32 (+1)
Arcane: 15
Luck: 37
Back to the mid-level doldrums. Still, the prodigious XP gains from this modified bauble left him not far from level 52. And for Zilara, with her smaller base level and many more baubles¡­ Level up! Level up! Level up! Level up!
Zilara Leveled Up! Level 40
Strength: 25 (+4)
Endurance: 26 (+3)
Agility: 51 (+20)
Intelligence: 40 (+4)
Charisma: 35 (+5)
Arcane: 46 (+1)
Luck: 42 (+10)
¡°Heheh. Catchin¡¯ up,¡± gloated the child with her typical sly-accented inflection. The group gathered around. It was time to discover what this strange testament was meant to convey.
Chapter Ninety-Seven: Mal Lang Syne
Arc V: New, Old Testament
¡°Are you ready?¡± Jelena asked with a self-confident smirk. ¡°Who knows what faith-shattering revelations are contained within this document?¡± Camp was arranged in a natural glen deep in the delta¡¯s swamps and far away from any road. Sunset was not for an hour and a half. They could still read without the help of the campfire, which continued to burn at its well-regulated, Menu-mandated pace. Per church teachings, the Holy Priestess Mia formed her party in a nondescript dire-scorpion cave far south of Riverglen. There, they encountered the Holy Menu, an instrument of divine vengeance. Willingly binding themselves to this holy force and mastering its Interface, the Ancient Heroes of Yore fought back against the demons ravaging the countryside. Calaf had the holy scripture partially memorized at one time. Former sister Jelena still recalled the stories. This document was purported to be a firsthand account of this same period. What secrets would it contain? And why did the team thief of the ancient heroes go to such lengths to keep it safely guarded? ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m dying from suspense,¡± Zilara said. ¡°We trudged through that swampy refuse pile for days looking for this. Let¡¯s hurry it up.¡± Enkidu only grumbled, looking more annoyed than usual. ¡°I care not.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s begin,¡± Calaf said. Not like I have much faith left to shatter. Jelena held his hand while they scanned the document. ¡°Okay. Calaf and I shall take turns reading aloud. I¡¯ll go first. Three¡­ two¡­¡±
Firsthand Testament of Mia, Shackled Cleric Ever-dark was the Southern Shackled Asylum. The lone welkinhatch atop the demonic seath-hollow seldom becreaved, and never in light of day. The lone light came from the speldtorches carried by guards. Seldomtimes would the sun stream through misfallen breakthroughs in the underground lair¡¯s walls ¨C caused by delve-digging thralls, breaking through to the outside world. Demon-wards cordoned these expansion burrows with haste to both secrete all signs of the outside world from the capt-hafts and to punish the offending delve-diggers for holk-carving overfar. Capt-hafts came seldom to the asylum. Just enough to uphold the gaol¡¯s folk from dwindling. All were Shackled, forsaken. Marked for life by their demonic ward-masters. All were cast into the dark in the dead of night. Beseeching their masters, crying out from the hurt of their Shackling, scarcely able to put up a fight following the long haft-march in irons from the far-away uplands. Thus had it been for as long as anyone in this blackgloom pit could remember. Until this day¡­ Muffled upsturance from the roof. Another prisoner yet had might to fight on. Bold, but far too late. The Shackling seal spared no man. Once applied resistance became moot. There would ¨C could ¨C be little defiance of worth once a capt-haft became Shackled. Indeed, the telltale searing whirl of the Shackling Iron could be heard even through the stone roof and wooden welkinhatch atop the gaol. Another Shackled had been everbound in soulbondage. And yet, on this fellow fought¡­ Great scuffle sounded from the roof. Capt-hafts could follow this holdfast newcomer¡¯s footfalls as he fought on. Some even saw fit to cheer under their breaths, still careful not to draw the ire of the guards or their many capos. As it ever-was, the roof-struggle ended. None could stand fast against the demonic gaolers for overlong. The rooftop welkinhatch swung outward. It was dark beyond, as always, but a rainstorm howled, splashing through the hatch ever-quick. ¡°Unhand me. I am no one¡¯s prisoner. I-h-hey! Glutinous fiend. Have at thee!¡± A figure tumbled ¨C hurled ¨C down the long drop to the bottom floor. Stripped of gear and properly Shackled, the fall was survivable, if not without great hurt. But something was awry. Capt-hafts left their gaol-cells to gather ¡®round the fallen fellow. It was¡­
Name: Demon Sentry #1
Rank: Leal Sentry of the Demon King, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level: 6
Status: 10/28 (Victim of Gravity)
¡­ one of the outlying gaol-wards. A fat collection of blubber and muscle with misshapen wings like a dire-bat. Having been kicked down by a particularly opportune prisoner. But there was no saving the new capt-haft from their doom. All were cast down in time. And after another shout of ever-dare, a second figure tumbled forth from the welkinhatch. A shuffling heap in full plate armor. Yet, he did not fall free. Even in this ever-dusk, the capt-hafts of the pit could see their new gaol-mate twining forth until his elbow was angled down¡­ falling upon the demonic sentry. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Yiyaa!¡±
Special Technique: Piledriver Effect: Gravity-assisted Finishing Move.
The capt-haft crashed into the demonic sentry elbow-first. The demon flailed, his chest seeming to lose air.
Name: Demon Sentry #1
Status: 3/28 (Discombobulated)
The Shackles tale-told all capt-hafts that this guard was utterly undone, and by a new-Shackled prisoner at that! Their demon captors could be hurt, if not bleed (for the devil gaolers bore not blood). And if they could suffer harm¡­ No time was there to act on this small whiff of rebellion. Fivefold the guard¡¯s number, fully leveled, fully healed, and fully armed, pushed their way into the center-gaol. They pulled the new capt-haft off their kin. Never did guards speak with lowly Shackled. Instead, a Shackle-brand shone bright amidst the throng.
BRAND-SLAVE MIA. STEP FORWARD AND APPLY HEALING TO DEMON SENTRY #1 AT ONCE.
Dealt-tasks sent forth from the gaol-warden were private, though there was an asylum-wide way by which all could be alerted by a System Message. The receiver was plain by the glow in the brand of her eyes. A figure in gaol-granted level one Plain Prisoner¡¯s Robes stepped forth. ¡°As thou wishest,¡± she said with a nod.
Mia Casts: Basic Heal Effect: Heals up to 20 HP on a single target.
Gleed-shine hugged-close her waylaid, demonic gaoler. Mia¡¯s hands did gleam, brought forth with the great background Interface that at once empowered and bound her through her Shackles. In a breath, Demon Sentry #1 was health-raised to 23 life points. The lumbering, horned brute hopped up spoiling for a fight.
BRAND-SLAVE MIA. TOP UP DEMON SENTRY #1 AT ONCE.
Once more, Mia cast Basic Small Heal. And once more, the Demon Sentry¡¯s LP (life points) overfilled. Most healing was squandered, overmuch, and Mia felt weary, but the Demon gaoler was back up to full strength. Demon Sentry #1 lumbered to where his foe was pinned by Demon Sentry #5 and #3. The newly mended sentry let forth a full-force blow. Demons were well-skilled at holding back their might. Not even a shimmer showed to signify the hit or bereckon body-dretch. (Zilara scribbled in ¡®damage?¡¯ with her unique Interface-editing abilities, after which ¡®body-dretch¡¯ was mentally swapped out in the posse¡¯s minds.) The two restrainer demons threw the fresh capt-haft into a gaol-cell, then slammed down an ill-crafted set of bars, and the resistant knight was confined. Brand-Slave Mia¡¯s Shackle shone once more, and she gasped as her task-work came down from the gaoler-chief.
Later, Demon Sentry #4 swung open the cell with a jerking halt. Mia carefully stepped into the cell. Shackle-bound, she could wield little from the Interface. Mia could only beckon thus:
Name: Roland
Rank: ???
Level: 1
Status: 8/12 (Freshly Shackled)
Freshly Shackled brought forth a high heap of ¡®experience points¡¯¡ª skill-worth, Mia turned the Interface¡¯s demontongue over to her own¡ª for the first week after Shackling. But there was little to gain from this boon within the gaol. The man still wore plain gear, though torn. Possessed was he of more health than most, doubtless an outland grenzritter before enthrallment. Stir not did the capt-haft. His Shackle was plain, fresh upon burned skin, on his neck. ¡°Good day, sir,¡± Mia began. ¡°Dwell you now in the Southern Shackled Asylum.¡± The prisoner, Roland, at long last stirred. ¡°Shackled As¡­ no. That cannot¡­¡± ¡°T¡¯is true, milord. Shackled you are. Bound by its make. To delve with the other miners be your fate.¡± ¡°That accent¡­¡± said Roland. ¡°You sound¡­¡± ¡°Aye, m¡¯lord. Loanwords from demontongue and the Outland-dweller marches bear not in the gaol. Such hath it been since my eldmother was Shackled.¡± ¡°Gah.¡± The erstwhile knight held his hand near his throat by instinct. ¡°The demons. An ambush. I¡¯m a squire for Knight Herman of the Highland Vale. We marched south with an army to liberate the southern forests. But they¡¯re heading north in force. To flank the front¡­¡± ¡°None more were brought to the gaol,¡± said Mia. Again, Roland scratched at the brand on his neck. ¡°This jail is a cave?¡± asked the soldier, straightforward and blunt. ¡°A pit, sir.¡± Mia bowed her head. ¡°An underground gaol. Built to delf and mine.¡± ¡°How long have you¡­?¡± Roland¡¯s eyes flitted about the cell, unadjusted to the ever-gloom. ¡°You mentioned your eld¡­ grandmother.¡± ¡°For as long as can be remembered, m¡¯lord.¡± Once more, Mia bowed her head. ¡°As was my mother before. It was my eldmother who came hither unwilling from a convent far to the north.¡± Roland gasped. ¡°The shrine. From the Capitol, most likely.¡± ¡°I know not, m¡¯lord. For my erdmother spoke not of the olden days save in dream-talk. But it was the erdmother who was first Shackled, a state passed forth to my mother ere me. All future sires of yours shall be Shackled as well.¡± The enslaved knight grimaced and uttered a brusque oath Mia recognized not. ¡°We¡¯ve heard stories of these oubliettes,¡± Roland said ¨C another word Mia knew not. ¡°You¡¯ve¡­ never left this hole?¡± ¡°Never, good sir. Born here was I.¡± Then, his sight accustomed to dim speld-light, noble Roland gazed upon at Mia¡¯s twinbrand eyes. ¡°They¡­ burnt the Shackle into your eyes?¡± Mia nodded. ¡°A common branding-way. Impossible be it to remove the slave-brand without blinding.¡± Once more, Roland winced and scratched his neck. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re telling me.¡± ¡°If healing be needed, I shall lend aid.¡± Mia outbreathed. ¡°A single healing spell will mend any capt-haft in the gaol. Alas, I have not revival spells. My mother was allowed a cleansing spell for poisons at level five. Yet I have not climbed to such heights.¡± Ere the pair could carry on, the Shackle upon Roland¡¯s neck began to shine. ¡°What is¡­?¡± Roland¡¯s eyes followed that which Mia could not see. ¡°A Menu, good sir. Forbidden are we to access most of it. But all Shackled must heed its commands.¡± ¡°Brand-Slave Roland, report to floor eighteen for excavation duty,¡± the fallen squire read from his invisible Menu. ¡°The gaolers await on the lower levels,¡± Mia said with a nod. ¡°And if I refuse?¡± ¡°The Demon Sentries shall thrash you. Then order me to tend you, then thrash you once more.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll take more than that to break me.¡± ¡°As your caretaker, further unhearsomeness shall mete out punishment upon me as well,¡± the healer said, head down. Roland¡¯s frown grew deeper yet, a feat Mia thought not possible. Loathe though he was, rose he did. ¡°I shall be here when you return,¡± Mia promised. But take off did Roland without a word.
Chapter Ninety-Eight: Apocryphal Testament Frayed parchment continued its testament of Cleric Mia:
¡°You know nothing ¨C not a thing ¨C about the outside world?¡± Many days had slipped since Roland was Shackled and thrown into the pit. He had thus far turned down the gaoler¡¯s forced deftwork. This brought him yet another thrashing-heal-thrashing cycle each day. Yet still, Roland showed no sign of fear, even as Mia cared for his lasting wounds with a simple cloth soaked in warm water. ¡°Naught a thing, good sir.¡± Mia dabbed at her ward¡¯s brow. ¡°I was born here. As was my mother ere me.¡± Roland shot Mia a sorrowful glance even as she dabbed a lash mark on his shoulder. ¡°It is said.¡± Mia¡¯s voice fell an octave. ¡°¡­ it is said that my grandmother was a priestess at the Shrine of Salmana.¡± ¡°The holy women of the shrine haven¡¯t been seen in ages. It was said they were all bound.¡± Roland glanced about their cold surroundings. ¡°Rumors that I guess were true.¡± Mia had no answer. ¡°Have you ever seen the sun?¡± ¡°Only for a little while, through the welkinhatch above us.¡± ¡°And what is it the demons have you¡­ do here?¡± Mia gazed down at some odd, gleaming field Roland could not discern. ¡°Oh, do you not get the messages? The Warden has been sending word since, well, as long as I can recall.¡± Just then, Roland¡¯s neck brand began to itch. A see-through square spanning three times the grenzritter¡¯s hand length appeared some three paces ahead.
SYSTEM MESSAGE (LOCAL): ALL DESIGNATED MINING BRAND-SLAVES ON SHIFTS A, B, AND D: REPORT TO THE LOWEST LEVELS FOR EXCAVATION DUTY.
Mia knelt. Outside the slim cell bars that marked their home, the other miners had already set off to toil in the depths of this great pit where they lived, died, and everywhile, were born. ¡°¡¯Tis another day¡¯s digging,¡± the healer called out. ¡°You shall be part of team D. I¡­ urge you to tend to your tasks.¡± But Roland spent several key moments watching the throng of Shackled pass, their Shackle-bindings all aged and well-set, oft passed down, on some needed limb or other. ¡°How many people are down here?¡± ¡°Two hundred fifty¡­ fifty-one, by the last count.¡± Mia nodded, pointing at their newest dweller. ¡°You should go to your turn. The thrashings will grow ever more¡­ crafty with further stubbornness.¡± The once-unbranded grenzritter rose from his bed with a reluctant breath. "Alright, best to go get lay of the land at least." He strode by Mia, but halted at the door. ¡°You are not a miner?¡± he asked. ¡°I shall stay here, ready, should any mending be needed. That is the task set for me, spellcraft gifted to me by the Shackles.¡± ¡°The priestesses of your order were healers. Practitioners of medicine, and they didn¡¯t need these slave brands to do it.¡±
Fourteen-hours of toil followed for Roland. Mia looked for a silver glimmer to show in her sight, calling her down to the mine floor, but no call ever came. If any cure was needed, it must have been done by one of the eleven other chosen healers of the refuge. Mia¡¯s part was healing, aye. But while on duty, she oft tended to the dire-scorpionbee hives. Gathering honey from Cave-Dwelling Dire-Scorpionbees, thousands buzzing about a small nook far from the living place of the gaol. Each dire-bee had a wee designation window, hard to read for human eyes. All were level 1, as such wee creature¡¯s growth was oft stunted by the Shackles. Slits of light gave only the faintest veiled glimpses of the sun. Dire-scorpionbees flitted through these slits, gathering nectar from outside and turning it into honey used for gaol-food. It was Mia¡¯s side-hustle to gather this honey. Any stings were easily mended with Basic Heal, and for the most part, the dire-bees were kind to their human tenders, as much as beasts can be. On rare turns, a band of fell dire-wasps crept through the cracks in the wall. Few in number, thrice the size of a dire-scorpionbee, and Shackled at levels one to two, they sought to strike the bee hives. Nine such dread-wasps barged in just as Mia¡¯s time drew to a close on this day. They honed in on one hive, lurking outside and tearing apart dire-scorpionbees as they flew out, or often as they came back with honey. The aim was not to take honey. Mia saw no reason why these wasp-beasts acted this way. Maybe they did not like their rivals? Left as such, the gaol¡¯s honey store would be in peril. Mia wielded a Simple Wood Mallet, a level one weapon with low stat needs. It was one of the few arms permitted outside the clutch of the fiendish wardens, and Mia used it to thwack three of the dire-wasps to the ground. As she crushed the third beast (gaining a respectable +3 XP), Mia saw the nearest hive was buzzing. Any dire-wasp could tear apart one, three, or even five dire-scorpionbees in as many heartbeats. When facing twelve bees, they oft team up with another to overcome the dangers. At fifty or more bees, they need three or more to be brought down. Nine fear-wasps could carry on until a whole dire-bee nest was slain. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. With three of their foes down, the dire-bees were starting to strike back. Dozens buzzed up against the dire-wasp glaring over their nest opening. Miniature Interfaces whirred as the grim-wasp thrashed. Two wing-friends came in to help, but were themselves swallowed by the flood of smaller creatures that swarmed out of their hive. A squad of three last dire-bees approached from the height of the nest. Too late to save their kin, but perhaps these three would get all the spoils of the defiled nest? Mia struck the biggest dire-wasp, a level 2 beast, off the nest with her hammer then smashed it against the stone before it could rise. Of the rest of the grim-wasps, one zipped off through the cracks in the wall while the last was quickly swallowed by the swelling flood of their lesser foes. For a dire-wasp could slay any one scorpionbee individually. But in swarm the hive-mates could surround a fire-wasp and stun it with the heat of steady wing-flaps, enough to then pierce the foe with their tails. Though many a dire-scorpionbee sting their fellows in the melee, the fallen were soon joined by tricefold numbers from the hive.
Mia¡¯s assigned initiate returned when the work was finished, and after shifts C and E slogged down to take over the endless toil. Roland sighed, dragging his worn-out legs to his bunk and settling back down just where he had been before in one great, heavy motion. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted,¡± he announced. ¡°As I can see in your status screen,¡± said the priestess. ¡°The debuff will pass after your next hour of slumber.¡± Roland huffed. ¡°Nowhere near as exhausted as I should be though.¡± ¡°It is the Shackle. It is the Menu by which brand-thralls must live their lives. It¡­ lightens much manual toil. Were it not for the Shackles, the demands of this place would slay any worker within a year.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ mining rock. Plain rock, without break or pause,¡± Roland said. ¡°I handed my haul over to Demon Sentry number¡­ eight, I think?¡± ¡°Yes, that is what must be done at the end of every shift.¡± Mia moved nearer. ¡°Hide not any stone or trinket you come across. But the main aim is to deepen this pit.¡± Roland sought to ask what, yet heard naught in return. No soul knew, likely not even their fiendish gaolers. The Warden, perchance, would know. ¡°You should receive some pittance of experience from mining toil,¡± Mia said. ¡°In time this builds up to levels, and sharpened skills that ease the delf-tasks. ''Tis not wholly unpaid work¡­¡± ¡°What level are you?¡± the grenzritter asked. ¡°Three.¡± Roland could but gaze at Mia. ¡°Healing is a lesser skill than delf-mining,¡± Mia said, straight-faced. ¡°And delfing less than fighting.¡± ¡°How old are you?¡± Roland¡¯s face showed a flicker of pity. Mia bowed her head. ¡°Mine¡­ mother¡­ handed down our auld figures and calendars with hush,¡± she confessed after a while. ¡°If we haven¡¯t lost the count of days, I should be nearing twenty-eight winters.¡± ¡°Three levels.¡± ¡°Yes, good sir.¡± ¡°In twenty-eight years.¡± ¡°Aye. For Shackled begin earning experience the moment they are birthed.¡± The level one knight scowled. ¡°Starting to see how the Demons keep control of this place. A man could go his entire life and barely scrape level ten. Nobody would ever be able to challenge the guards even in a one-on-one, and with everything under observation by these damnable brands, you¡¯d never organize a prison riot of any size.¡± The grenzritter¡¯s outland tongue was odd to Mia¡¯s ears. ¡°And in this far-off land, there¡¯d be nowhere to go even if escape were feasible,¡± the knight concluded. ¡°You are beginning to understand.¡± Mia spake. ¡°The moment the Shackle was marked upon your skin, you were tied to the System. A brand-thrall. Surely the outer world has those.¡± Roland grimaced. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m aware. Even if I get out of here. My sworn knight is dead. And with this thing on my neck¡­ I¡¯ll never achieve knighthood. Never command armies. Never be allowed to take the oath at the cathedral within Fort Duran Du Loc.¡± Every new captive had to face their lot of lifelong bondage. It was that or, in time, the wardens would grow weary of stubborn thralls and let their HP fade to naught after the last thrashing. The pair sat in stillness for a time. ¡°Say, are we roommates or something?¡± Roland asked when stillness grew too quiet. ¡°The cot is big enough for two. You need not sleep on that stone slab¡­¡± The dealt-task granted by the demonic warden was laid down. The moon-time was also set, as were supplement foods for aid in Mia¡¯s role.
¡°My lord,¡± spake the gaol-priestess. ¡°Your part here is two-fold. To delf-mine is but one duty. But there is another dealt-task for which I have been assigned to you.¡± Brand-slave Mia stood in the narrow cell. She shed her raiment with translucent flair from the Interface. Stand she did, naked, long and golden hair swept back over her shoulders to reveal all to her assigned mate. ¡°Please, m¡¯lord.¡± Mia knelt in full bow, her face near the stony floor. ¡°To bear meek younglings is the task the demon-keeper hath set for me.¡± Knight Roland cast a fretful look at the jail door, ever-wary of, wary of passersby. ¡°R-rise. What are you saying?¡± But brand-slave Mia bowed further still. ¡°As were my mother and erdmother before, I have been selected to breed domesticity. Now Branded, all your sires shall be demon-thralls. But by joining with me, said sires shall be leal and obedient servants of the gaolers. I implore you, good sir; the moon''s turn is fitting, as you can see from my Interface. Please, my lord, there is no better time. With the bare healer lying between him and the door, brave grenzritter Roland could not flee the scene. His eyes unwittingly fell upon the shapely form of his chosen companion. Deep longing filled the valiant knight...
¡°Ahem. Okay. Well.¡± Jelena coughed, proof that even a former working girl could be flustered by divinely-sanctioned wedlock. Night had fallen over the camp as they read the long testament. The contents were technically apocryphal, but Menu metadata confirmed its age as among the oldest of church documents. The lurid descriptions that followed were most unchurchly, however! Calaf instinctually covered Zilara¡¯s young eyes. Proving that he still possessed some modicum of churchgoing decorum despite having been utterly corrupted and led into a life of crime in more recent days. ¡°Move. I wanna see,¡± Zilara complained. ¡°It was just getting saucy.¡± ¡°So. Priestess Mia. Mother of the Church.¡± Jelena chortled, just barely composing herself. ¡°Spent her second meeting with brave Paladin Roland begging him to, ah, fill their party roster with a third member.¡± For his part, Enkidu stood quiet sentry near the tents. The wild man had little use for archival deep dives. ¡°Missionaries didn¡¯t talk about that story. They were all taking about holy purity and inherent chasteness,¡± Jelena said, cheeks a flushed brown shade. ¡°If they had led with this, I would¡¯ve converted even sooner. Ha.¡± ¡°You already know that your knight and priestess come together,¡± Enkidu said with a characteristic growling tenor. ¡°Yes. But not so¡­ scandalously.¡± Calaf¡¯s eyes scanned ahead. ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll skip a half-page, but the rest of the document should be safe for¡­ innocent eyes.¡± Zilara gave the Squire a piteous look. Why would a ¡®firsthand testimony¡¯ portray the holy priestess in such a way? There were other congruencies with the canon stories. Dire-scorpionbees were thought long-extinct in these lands. Rather than their friendly keeper, the Cleric instead helped ancient Riverglen destroy a nest of the fiendish scorpions. All this was to say nothing of the portrayal of Brands. They were supposed to be secret holy weapons by which humanity could fight back against the forces of devilry. Here the demonic hordes possessed Interface designations as well. That was¡­ not impossible, as the group¡¯s unfortunate encounter with the sirenlike Piper demon would attest. Calaf felt an unsettling itch from the Brand on his left arm. He scratched at it, but did not mention anything to his comrades. The trio gathered around the slowly waning campfire. So dark was it that a utility light bauble spell was necessary to emulate candlelight. Still, the group continued to read this forbidden testament.
Chapter Ninety-Nine: Healing Salve
¡°What¡¯s a ¡®grenzritter¡¯ anyway? Zilara asked before they dived in again. ¡°It keeps showing up. It¡¯s not in the old tongue and it¡¯s not modern either.¡± ¡°I have a theory,¡± Calaf said. ¡°But still, let¡¯s finish the testament.¡± The heretical gospel continued¡­
The Shackled priestess sat upon the cot, hewn from the rock of their gaol. She did not wear her robes, but the wrinkled cloth that was the cell¡¯s only adornment. The healer hung her head, crestfallen. ¡°Though you will not share our task, the bed is wide enough for two. You need not lie on cold stone.¡± ¡°I know that.¡± The grenzritter¡¯s eyes shifted from the cot to Mia. ¡°Still, given the circumstances, I will allow you to have it for the duration. It¡¯s the least I can do.¡± ¡°The task dealt to us. It is because I was¡­ bred for obedience.¡± Mia paused to breathe out. ¡°As was my mother before me.¡± Roland lifted an eyebrow. ¡°You implied as much before.¡± ¡°The Warden has found that your unruly ways would be¡­ soothed by my gentler manner¡­ tempered by my more mild-mannered demeanor. I-in forebears¡­¡± Mia said naught more, merely casting her eye down at the thin cloth that clad her. Then, she awkwardly shifted to make space on the cell¡¯s lone cot. But the squire knight did not look Mia in the eyes after that. He turn upon his side on the stone slab that marked the cell floor. ¡°Goodnight,¡± he managed, leaving Mia to slumber in the cot alone once more.
New Brand-slave Roland kept to himself and caused no bother for the next five shifts. He still chose not to rest on the bed, but on the cold stone slab instead. Yet he toiled hard and met more than his stone-tithe from the lower levels. When the grenzritter spoke to Mia, it was just to ask questions about the layout of the pit. In her youth, the pit had been a full ten stories deep, with their gaolers stationed on the top two floors. It was said that in the time of Mia¡¯s erdmother the pit was only three stories max. ¡°That wooden board.¡± Roland motioned to a conspicuous patch on the wall above, near floor six. One of the highest floors prisoners were allowed to visit. ¡°It stands out with a yellow trim in my vision. What is it?¡± ¡°Aye. That was when a hole was wrongly mined thru to the outside,¡± Mia said. It came to pass when Mia was five years old. A blinding light had flooded the chamber, leading young Mia to cower under the cot in her and her mother¡¯s shared gaol-cell until it was mended, by that very board.
Item: Plain Board Barricade Description: A board twice a man¡¯s height and thereabouts a man¡¯s arm span across. Covering a bare hole in this cavern complex, leading outside.
¡°Is that so?¡± Roland asked. ¡°In this manner, you can gleam a small part of the world-workings,¡± Mia explained. ¡°Though most functions of the Interface are shut to us.¡± Roland spoke not. He rose and left the cell at a moderate jog. Mia beheld as he hurried up flights of stairs and around a winding walkway spiraling along each floor. The Shackled squire was not running swiftly enough to arouse the doubt of their captors, but certainly enough to build up momentum Then, as he reached the sixth floor¡­ Roland tucked his head beneath his shoulder and rammed the wooden beam with a mighty bang. Rotted timber yielded at once with a grinding, splattering din. A waning midwinter sun broke through the fresh breach in their towering oubliette. Some handful of feeble rays crept in from the west at a most ill-timed angle. Yet even this sent Mia diving for her cot. Snatching and wielding her Simple Feather Pillow +1, she hastily chose [Use] to fling it up over her eyes as a shield. Even so, a reddish sliver pierced her humble pillow and stained her sight crimson. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. A whole host of nine Demon Sentries was stirred to action by this breach. Two peered through the gap in the wall whilst six dashed forth from the gaol into the surrounding lands. One last watcher, driven by the fear of thrashing, rounded up any stray Brand-slaves below the sixth floor, then stood watch on the stairway. When Mia¡¯s gaze adjusted enough to behold all this, the demonic posse was already tower-bound. The twin watchmen by the breach were plodding upward to unbar the sentry¡¯s lone entrance. There, in a yawning gap against the sixth story¡¯s distant wall, lay:
Item: Busted Board Barricade Description: Once erected to plug a hole in the wall. The barricade is now a hole itself. A testament to the inevitable march of entropy.
Roland was borne in through the sentries¡¯ barracks, rather than being flung through the oubliette¡¯s welkinhatch once more. The demons dragged him down to the ¡®main¡¯ asylum floor, where they took turns thrashing him to 1 LP repeatedly. Forcibly mending him with demonic herbs that drained strength and other lesser debuffs in tradeoff. Demon Sentry #4 and #7 held ther capt-haft, preventing the squire from striking back or even knowing down from up. Then, the asylum warden arose. Soaring down from the guard barracks on demonic bat wings:
Name: Demonic Asylum Warden
Rank: Leal Warden of the Demon King, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level: 12
Status: 36/36 (Itching to Inflict Pain)
Only twice before had Mia ever seen the warden, both instances for executions. The healer knelt by the bars, timid, gazing out at the prisoner she was to be paired with. The Demonic Asylum Warden lifted a mighty hand.
Special Technique: Flurry of Blows Effect: Unleash a flurry of melee blows.
Even a single blwo from this over-leveled warden would have been enough to smite Roland¡¯s life-points. The guardian seemed to be holding back, though it did little good. Yet, by the end of the storm of strikes, Roland was down to 1/12 HP, dangling at brink of death.
SYSTEM MESSAGE (PERSONAL): BRAND-SLAVE MIA. HEAL SHACKLED PRISONER REPROBATE BACK TO FULL HP.
Mia stepped forth, trembling before the Demonic Asylum Warden. She cast her Basic Heal. Then, when her charge was back to ten, she was ordered to cast it again until he was overhealed. Then, the asylum¡¯s head demon pummeled his charge once more. This continued, Mia weaving her healing as oft as her stamina would grant her focus. Seldom did Roland¡¯s health linger at full for long. Oft, the onslaught was upon him as Mia still struggled to cast her spell.
After many hours of constant punishment, Roland was hauled into their gaol-cell by a stout level 8 demon and tossed clumsily upon the cot, suffering two harm from the might of the throw.
Name: Roland
Rank: Brand-Slave, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level: 1
Status: 4/12 (Concussed, Fractured, Hemorrhaging, Discombobulated)
Even the power of Basic Heal struggled to keep Roland¡¯s face whole. Great bruises, wrought after countless forceful smites from demonic fist larger than the man¡¯s head, would not fade no matter how many times Mia applied her magical salve. ¡°M¡¯lord, surely you know that escape from this place is impossible,¡± Mia pleaded with the unresponsive shape on her cot. ¡°Verily, none can hope to roam the wilds alone.¡± With his jaw too mangled to speak, Roland summoned great strength to raise a hand and beckon towards the breach in the sixth-floor wall. A Greater Plain Board Barricade was now being built by a trio of Demon Sentries. Night had long snice descended, and in the moonless gloom there was naught to distinguish the wall from the shadowy veil beyond. Mia cast Basic Heal once more. So tired was hse, and so injured was her charge, that it barely brought him up to 6/12 HP. ¡°One day.¡± Roland closed his mangled hand in a fist. ¡°I¡¯ll get you out of here.¡± ¡°Theres nowhere to go, m¡¯lord,¡± Mia said, head bowed. ¡°This fixation, these wild outbursts. Another shall see you doomed.¡± ¡°Town to the north,¡¯ Roland spoke, only half-lucid. ¡°Got the whole lay of the land. Confirmed there was a way out through the demon¡¯s barracks. There are only ten of them. Over-leveled for any one prisoner to face alone. But¡­¡± His voice trailed off, and his head rolled back onto the pillow. The pair waited in silence for a time. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one move like so,¡± the healer admitted in time. ¡°You struck that barricade without use of an Interface. You just¡­ acted.¡± Mia would have selected the barricade and tried to [Use] it. Finding no means to push or remove it would have proven the end of her escape. Such was her chief way of dealing with the world; she knew of no other way. ¡°One day,¡± Roland said again. ¡°Get you out of here¡­¡± Mia sighed. Her assigned mate was a headstrong one, no doubt. Any other escape attempts and he¡¯d not be around any longer. Still, Mia leaned forth and¡­
Special Technique: Reassuring Hug A warm embrace. Intimate, or perhaps just an offer of solace. Heals no wounds, but provides an emotional salve.
The pair shared the cot, Mia embracing the battered squire until the next mining shift was summoned.
Chapter 100: Shackled Run
For four months, Roland was a faithful Shackled with a spotless name among the deft-delvers. The gathered twice the quota of hewn stone each shift, though there was no prize or pay for reward. Indeed, the only trace of his past stubbornness showed when he still let Mia have the bed to herself and went back to sleeping on the stone seat as soon as his body was whole enough to do so. At no time did the knight share reasons for why he took so earnestly to their set task in the mine. It was a zeal well beyond a mere wish to dodge another thrashing. Nor did it fit one who yet held out hope to see the surface. All the while, Roland remained level one. As was usual among new captives. Only the oldest of those born in the pit ever reached level five¡ªbelow the might of their weakest keepers. And without any gear, even a full prison uprising would never be able to drive off nine watchmen and the chief keeper. Roland mined. Mia tended to any wounds and performed her various other tasks between shifts. The guards cordoned off all floors sixth and hire, that sturdier wooden barricade now out of reach of anyone. Then, four and a half months after that fateful beating¡­
Mia was tending to the dire-scorpionbee nests, gathering their honey to help feed the gaol, when Roland came in to find her. ¡°Good morrow, m¡¯lord.¡± Mia dipped her head, as was usual. ¡°You seemest¡­¡± The healer¡¯s voice trailed off softly. The former squire¡¯s stats were laid bare by the Menu:
Name: Roland
Rank: Shackled Brand-Slave, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level: 2
Status: 15/15
¡°Oh, by the Demon Lord!¡± Mia swore. ¡°To have risen so swiftly¡­ have there been many dire-cockroaches down in the mines?¡± Roland shook his head with a gleaming toothy grin. He pulled out a whispy trinket alight with a dull white glow¡­
Item: Miniscule Colorless Level-Up Bauble Description: Provides fifteen experience points to a single target when used.
¡­ and right after Mia registered this description in her Interface, Roland smashed the Bauble.
Roland Uses: Miniscule Colorless Level Up Bauble XP: +15 (35/45)
One more item like that and this initiate Shackled would be level three. Almost caught up to long-stayer Mia already! "You... you shouldn''t have brought that," Mia said. "You shouldn''t have even left the mine without turning in your goods. They can see your goods in the Inventory. You... you should go back." The Shackled grenzritter said naught, simply called forth his Inventory and drew out another trinket:
Item: Medium Colorless Level-Up Bauble Description: Provides fifty experience points to a single target when used.
Fifty experience points. Fifty. Experience points. Enough for even Mia to level up with just one use. ¡°Trade. It¡¯s yours.¡± Mia glanced about. No demon gaolers were here. Their jailers wouldn¡¯t know. Unless¡­ ¡°You¡¯re¡­ so close to leveling up again,¡± she said. ¡°Too much, and the Demons will notice¡­¡± ¡°But they won¡¯t notice a nearly twenty-eight-year-old healer rising from level three to four.¡± Roland held the Bauble aloft. ¡°C¡¯mon. Take it. It¡¯s yours.¡± Tentatively, with some small amount of built-in guilt, Mia opened her trade window.
Roland ¡¤ Medium Colorless Level-Up Bauble (x1) To: Mia. ¡¤ None
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Roland grinned madly. ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll do it.¡± Mia pulled her Interface up once more.
Mia Uses: Medium Colorless Level Up Bauble XP: +50 (70/55)
Mia Leveled Up! Level: 4
Strength: 3
Endurance: 5
Agility: 4 (+1)
Intelligence: 8 (+1)
Charisma: 5 (+2)
Arcane: 7 (+1)
Luck: 2 (+1)
Stat spread was dull for a healer. But experience rushed through her nonetheless. It would have taken another year and a half to gather the remaining fifty experience with her current tasks. "Oh¡­" Mia stifled a groan. "That feeling. I¡¯d forgotten¡­" It had been four years since she¡¯d gained that third level. The feeling of newfound might coursing through her blood hit her all at once. She ended up hugging Roland without a word from the Menu. ¡°Thank thee, good sir,¡± she said, breathless. ¡°I¡¯ve got a dozen smaller ones in my Inventory right now.¡± Roland flashed coffers full of level-up Baubles and hewed stone. ¡°Want to go for level five?¡± Mia looked at the treasure horde with great longing. Temptuous sensations of a new stat boost lured her in. Yet still she turned. ¡°You¡­ shouldn¡¯t. One level here and there can slip under the notice of the Demon Sentries. But the Warden will notice more than one in a single day or even a month. You need to¡­ seek ways to conceal them, at the very least. Or turn them in¡­¡± How would their Demonic jailers react to this find? All Inventories were to be traded to the sentries at shift¡¯s end. All discoveries were to be shown to the demons immediately. ¡°About that.¡± Roland began. ¡°I have an idea. But I need your help.¡± Squire Roland elicited his designated healer and paired cellmate¡¯s help finding someone to assist with their new treasure hoard. There were another two hours until the next shift. Two hours more before it came time to trade in the quarry of stone. Roland had worked fast, more than meeting quota, so at least his sneaking out of the mines would not bring about another disciplinary beating. Instead, the healer and squire journeyed to a forsaken wing of the oubliette. The stone here was too sturdy for prisoners of such low level to break through in a quick manner. Dull cloth blended in well enough with the walls. And it was paltry enough not to warrant designation under the Menu. A natural camouflage. Mia pulled the curtain back.
Hiding in a natural divot in the wall sat a slovenly-looking fellow. He had not shaved since the day he was thrown into this hole.
Name: Gustavo
Rank: Brand-Slave, Southern Shackled Asylum (Smuggler, Unaffiliated)
Level 6
Status: 23/23 (Lightly Buzzed)
Weapons: Twin dull knives Particularly Heavy Flagon.
¡°What¡¯re you buyin¡¯?¡± the smuggler asked. He had a gleam in his eye. ¡°Oh, one of the capos? Is this a raid? Or are you desperate for smuggled goods now?¡± Gustavo was a thief and conman from a distant land. He was caught trying to deliver unauthorized, Interface-compatible wares into the oubliette with a cunning, uncrewed glider. The first try struck the side of the spire and fell to some far cliff, lost. The second glider managed to ferry contraband goods into the gaol. And the third one was caught by a flying demon in midair and Gustavo was Shackled and thrown into the oubliette by nightfal. All who accepted this contraband within the prison were executed. This was back when Mia was about eighteen, and she¡¯d scarcely seen Gustavo since. Not to fall into dismay by being bound through the Shackled and thrown into a gaol none ever returned from, Gustavo had simply taken up the newly-vacant role of a smuggler from the inside. A humble pile of contraband, and things not provided by their demonic gaolers, sat around his abode. ¡°We¡¯re hoping you could take a little something off our hands,¡± Roland said. ¡°At least for a time. I need to hide it from the jailers.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Gustavo called up his trade menu. ¡°Hand it over for appraisal.¡±
Roland ¡¤ Miniscule Colorless Level-Up Bauble (x1) To: Gustavo. ¡¤ Obnoxious Sales Pitch Flier.
¡°There¡¯s eleven more where that came from.¡± ¡°Oh. Well, I¡¯ve found a few of these in my time.¡± Gustavo ¡®used¡¯ his Particularly Heavy Flagon, taking a big swig. ¡°They seem to form embedded in harder grades of rock. Demons will pay for even one with triple the monthly rations.¡± Mia gasped. ¡°Is that so?¡± Their gaolers were seldom so generous. These must be truly precious to warrant triple rations. ¡°Will you take most of them into your inventory? We¡¯d appreciate it if you don¡¯t pawn them out,¡± Roland said. Gustavo chuckled. ¡°Oh, would I deceive you? Just let me take my parts and labor fee¡­¡±
Gustavo Uses: Miniscule Colorless Level Up Bauble XP: +15 (05/70)
Gustavo Leveled Up! Level: 7
Strength: 4
Endurance: 4 (+1)
Agility: 8 (+2)
Intelligence: 5 (+1)
Charisma: 6
Arcane: 5
Luck: 4 (+1)
¡°Ahhh. Tastes like poultry.¡± Gustavo licked his lips, punctuating the demonkin loanword for a rare prison delicacy. ¡°Hand over the goods. I¡¯ll keep perfect care of them.¡± With a grimace, Roland opened, then completed, the trade. ¡°Eleven little baubles, all in a row¡­¡± Gustavo halted. He looked at his interface, the brand on his left cheek glowing. ¡°Hey. What is this?¡± He presented his Menu:
Subject: Gustavo, Brand-Slave
Items: - Miniscule Colorless Level Up Bauble (x11) (locked)
¡°Oh? Didn¡¯t know?¡± Roland said with a faint grin. ¡°What¡¯s this? How¡¯d you do that?¡± Gustavo said, fiercely jabbing at his Interface. ¡°While on the mend from various beatings.¡± Roland gave Mia a warm smile. ¡°I discovered you can personally lock items set aside for private use. Even when traded.¡± ¡°That¡¯s cheating!¡± ¡°It¡¯s part of the Interface. Would be an important part, but I suppose our demonic captors don¡¯t want us learning too much about how these Shackles work.¡± Roland rubbed at his neck brand. ¡°Keep them secret. Keep them safe. I¡¯ll be bringing more of them daily, or trading with Mia here so she can do it.¡± Gustavo glowered at the healer, but still addressed Roland: ¡°You trust this capo?¡± ¡°Stockpile. Hoard¡­¡± Roland began. ¡°What are you, a dire-dragon?¡± Gustavo laughed, more jocular this time. ¡°¡­ Organize. Distribute. Level up.¡± Roland¡¯s lips angled upward. ¡°Make a play for the outside?¡± Gustavo leaned back in his chair. ¡°Need hooks to reach the oubliette trap door. Unless you want to jump out of that hole on floor six again.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a guard entrance,¡± Roland said. ¡°Just need the keys before our jailers lock the place down.¡± A tingling feeling flittered at the edge of Mia¡¯s slave garb. Too late, she swatted at the cause.
Dire-wasp Casts: Greater Sting. Effect: A sharp one-time-use sting with a 60% base chance of inflicting poison.
¡°Eek!¡± Mia held her hand aloft.
Name: Mia
Status: 10/11 (Poison Resisted!)
¡°Naught that a Basic Heal won¡¯t mend.¡± Mia smiled grimly. Roland struck back with a Unique Skill: ''Swat'', utterly smashing the dire-wasp. ¡°Together, we can beat them,¡± the squire said, punctuating the attack.
Chapter 101: Great Escape
Five more moons passed. Roland led his fellow delf-miners in a bellowing song: ¡°Dig! Heave! Equip that pickaxe boys! Ho! We select ¡®Use!¡¯ Swing! We gather Baubles Break! We collect our quarry. Wait! We bide our time.¡± Many were like Mia, born of the gaol and speaking the old pre-demon tongue of the land. Was this some outland chant? Many foreign knights such as grenzritters had come to this land both to test their might against devilry and in damned fool¡¯s crusade to liberate the land from demonic influence. Mia could hear this clamor from her bed, and even from the beehouse annex. It rang through the stone. There was no chance the Demon Warden couldn¡¯t hear the din. Stone hauls doubled, which quickly warranted a twofold quota. Yet the captives met that new quota and then some! They worked as a tight-knit band, going to each grueling shift without complaint. Until, as the change-shift bells rang, the crew would trade any baubles or Baubles they found and traded them to the worker with the highest Agility stat. Pickpocketing, sneaking, and other forms of stealth were all downstream of this attribute. This chosen swift-of-foot, fleet-of-hand courier passed by the Demon Sentry they traded their ore to, emptying their inventory of all but their hidden goods. Past the demonic checkpoint and back in the living quarters, they made their way to Gustavo. They traded all to this master smuggler, who hid the level-up Baubles from their jailers in hidden chests and various other compartments.
Each day, the band toiled. Every day, they found at least a dozen Baubles between them. Their hoard swelled with each week. Outside, winter came and went. A faint chill snuck through the slits and cracks in the stone. Mia¡¯s dire-bees were safe in the relatively cozy environs, free to overwinter until the temperatures began to rise. All this continued, with the Shackled prisoner¡¯s stockpile of rare baubles grew. Until¡­ ¡°I¡­ come from afar,¡± he said after a time. ¡°Perhaps one day you will see it. Fort Duran Du Lac. The seat of resistance to the Demon King.¡± Mia gasped. It was a known name, even in this dark pit. The Fiend Lord¡ªthe wardens had a shrine to this half-fabled tyrant on one of the higher floors. They urged the capt-hafts to pray there now and then, though to what end Mia never learned. ¡°Most near the capital seldom see a Shackled,¡± Roland explained. ¡°A few treacherous lesser lords have taken some as slave labor. But the grenzritter of our order hold the Fort and man the walls of the Capital. Even now scouts attempt to brave the path through fell fumaroles keeping us from the beast¡¯s domain.¡± Mia knew not what these strange terms were from the out-world. There were distant memories of her erdmother¡¯s secret whispers of the grand Capital. But forts and fumaroles were alien to her, she knew naught even the words her grenzritter used. She nodded along regardless. As Roland told her of these distant lands, the shift change bell rang. "I¡¯ll show you one day." Roland stood from the stone slab that served as his seat, bed, and resting spot. "Very soon." Swing! We gather Baubles Break! We collect our quarry. Wait! We bide our time. The tune went on, ringing through the passages. Mia did her common rounds, mending hurt flesh from the just returned night shifts, and then looked in on the honeycombs. Dire-scorpionbees grew more lively in the Spring, and judging by the cool yet bearable breeze sneaking into the delved-cavern, the seasons had shifted. Another troop of twelve wasps had crept in to strike the bees. Mia found them on the ground, having been charred in their shells and run-through by tail-skewers. The three hives had joined together, frying their foes all at once with minimal harm to their own. From deep below, the song grew cacophonous: Gather! We stockpile our baubles. There was an echoing thunk as dozens of pickaxes struck stone in unison. Distribute! We go back to collect our share before the shift! Another thunk. Use! We apply our baubles. Strange static filled the air as nearly fifty Shackled leveled up at once, many increasing levels in succession. The din of pickaxe strikes dulled, and gradually died. Together! We are strong. Mia held her breath. It was almost time. All at once! We fall upon the guard!
A Shackled work crew consisting of over four dozen brand-slaves leveled up simultaneously. Shifting from levels 2, 3, and 4 to levels 5, 6, 7, and even eight in some cases. Demon Sentry #5 was but level 8. Still higher than its charges. But there were over fifty of them, armed with low-level and rusty but still sharp pickaxes. And they were all gathered close, set on a single foe. The whole tower would be crawling with their fiendish wardens in due time, and there was much to do in the interim.
Mia rushed to the mining grounds, the deepest pit in the spire. The cell door, normally swung shut and so hefty only a demon could lift it, sat wide open. A makeshift key, a Thief¡¯s Slapdash Key Ring +1 (x1) lay in the lock. Prisoners of all sorts, wielding their simple level 1 pickaxes, streamed out into the prison¡¯s main floor. Mia had to battle the flow and push her way through. Scenes of slaughter lay ahead. Hurt and shaken rebels hobbled toward the way out, still keen to join in the gaol-riot. Interface windows blinked over fallen and the injured:
Name: Timothan
Rank: Brand-Slave (Rebel!), Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 6
Status: -2/28 (Neck Snapped)
Name: Randolph
Rank: Brand-Slave (Rebel!), Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 5
Status: 1/25 (Bleeding from the Jugular)
Name: Bryndar
Rank: Brand-Slave (Rebel!), Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 4
Status: -8/20 (Bisected)
Name: Jamis
Rank: Brand-Slave (Rebel!), Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 7
Status: -1/29 (Disarmed)
Name: Demon Sentry #5
Rank: Leal Sentry of the Demon King, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 8
Status: -2/32 (Thousand Cuts) Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Roland remained at the scene, boot on the Demon Sentry¡¯s corpse. ¡°The Shackles. We could only strike one at a time. In some sort of regimented format.¡± Roland raised and struck Demon Sentry #5 with the pickaxe. ¡°We killed it by sheer number. Even so, it could attack four times in a row despite our melee.¡± A Demon Sentry Meat Cleaver lay on the ground, still name-bound in ownership to Demon Sentry #5. Its strength requirements were well beyond any STR level that a human could dream to reach before level twelve. Another strike of the pickaxe prompted Demon Sentry #5¡¯s status to drop down to -3/32. ¡°My lord, are you okay?¡± Mia cast Quick Heal on Randolph twice to stabilize the poor soul, then rushed to Roland¡¯s side. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Roland said. ¡°Everyone who can move, rush the stairs. We must push as far as possible. Remember to trade the keys that Gustavo gave you. We must hope the night shift has managed to at least take through floor six!¡±
The gaol was abuzz with riotous inmates. Floors twelve through seven were unbarred, cell doors and chokepoints flung open. Gustavo had provided a small hoard of stolen and spoofed keys. He¡¯d toiled many hours, dodging shifts to perfect the Interface-based art of ¡®crafting¡¯. He¡¯d grown quite skilled at roughly aping the contours of the guard¡¯s keys ¨C enough to spoof the locks. But of course, the former smuggler wasn¡¯t out here facing the demons himself. Demon Sentries 2, 6, and 8 stood on the seventh floor, bearing the brunt of the rioter¡¯s attack. Sentry three lay dead on the floor, but not before having held back the night shift at a crucial point and leaving ten dead prisoners in its wake. Demon Sentry #9 was nowhere to be found, while Demon Sentry #7 had shut the door to the recently restricted sixth floor and wandered back up to prepare the demonic garrison¡¯s defenses. Roland ran to the door. He called upon the Interface and utilized it to jam the key into the lock. Where at any point before being branded this would be up to skill or dexterity of the hands to interface between the lock and key, here everything was¡­ flattened. Yet the false key did its work, and the sixth floor lay open to the rioters. Below, Demon Sentry #8 was at 4/33 HP. It fell to Roland¡¯s vanguard to break past the demon-infested upper floors and up to the surface. Roland stopped at a familiar wooden board. The Greater Plain Board Barricade beckoned. Mia waited in the back as the brunt of the captives flowed past. ¡°I need some kind of shield,¡± he said as he bashed the barricade down. The Greater Barricade would not break, at least not in full. Yet a single board did jostle loose. Thick enough to block a blow, and with just enough of a splintered back half to grasp. The distraction took but a breath, but already Demon Sentry #1, strongest beside the Warden, strode down from the upper floors. Mia dared glance through the smallest of holes in the barricade. Darkness reigned. It must be night outside.
Name: Demon Sentry #1
Rank: Leal Sentry of the Demon King, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 10
Status: 40/42 (High Ground)
Weapons: Behemoth Rebar Punishing Rod (Str 20)
Each demon was sturdier than any Shackled could hope to be at the equivalent level. They were twice the height and triple the mass of the tallest man. It towered before the narrow chokepoint, forcing the prisoner¡¯s advance to stall on the stairwell up to floor five. Demon Sentry #1 let out a mighty bellow. Only three rioters could draw near enough to strike, Shackled to the Interface such as they were. And with a mighty sweep, he waylaid three prisoners at a time. Wounded, down to about 2 HP. Piling along the sides of the stairwell. Meant to be taken alive for later punishment. Roland rushed to the front.
Name: Roland
Rank: Shackled Brand-Slave (Rebel!), Southern Shackled Asylum
Level: 8
Status: 28/28 HP
Weapons: Rusty Pickaxe (Str 2, AGL 1) Plain Board Shield. (END 2)
The head of the Demon Sentries swung its rebar club. Roland countered, jutting his makeshift shield out to parry the blow, just like he would have done before he was bound to the interface.
Special Technique: Squire¡¯s Parry Effect: Deflect a blow from anything humanoid size up to Dire-Bear size.
¡°Ha!¡± Roland huffed in triumph. But the Demon Sentry was still in the way, barely damaged, and more than capable of delivering a flurry of blows from relative safety. The next swing of the rebar hit Roland¡¯s shield. The simple wooden shield was not enough to negate all damage.
Name: Roland
Status: 23/28 (Rebarbed!)
Mia filled his heath Basic Heal, but by the time she was done another two blows had dropped him down below 20/28. Other Demon Sentries waited on the topmost floors, ready to support Demon Sentry #1. Their riot would be over before it began if they could not pass this roadblock. Even the sudden defeat of Demon Sentry #6 far below would not turn the tide. Punishment for this attempted rebellion would mean only the liquidation of the entire oubliette, even those who had not joined in the uprising. They¡¯d be replaced with other Shackled slaves carted in from the more populous areas further north, and the work would begin with scarcely less than a month¡¯s delay. Just then, a whirl stepped along the wall, using a flying leap off the barricade for a burst of speed, this blur leaped clear over Roland and the Demon Sentry both.
Name: Gustavo
Rank: Brand-Slave, Southern Shackled Asylum (Smuggler, Unaffiliated)
Level 9
Status: 27/27 (Heavily Inebriated)
Weapons: Twin dull knives Excrement-Poisoned Prison Shank (x4)
¡°Aha!¡± cried the smuggler, brandishing custom-sharpened prison shanks.
Special Technique: Shank in the Back. Effect: Ignores all defense and lodges a knife, hand axe, dirk, shank, or sharp quill into an opponent. Quadruples damage when the blow lands from behind. Sextuples damage on unaware targets.
Immediately, the Demon Sentry reached around to try and pull out the shiv in its back.
Name: Demon Sentry #1
Status: 21/42 (Off-balance)
Roland and the other captives pushed forward with a good old-fashioned shove. The demon was forced back, harried by scratch damage from Gustavo¡¯s smaller knives. Pickaxes wouldn¡¯t deal more than 2 HP max, but now the prisoners were spilling out onto the fifth floor, and there were many more angles from which to strike. Rather than fight a losing battle with its high ground advantage gone, Demon Sentry #1 dropped its Behemoth Rebar Punishing Rod and lumbered towards the edge of the platform. It dived off¡­ then ascended through the oubliette on leather bat wings. ¡°Ha! It¡¯s retreating, we won!¡± declared a prisoner. ¡°Keep pressing to the higher floors,¡± Roland ordered. ¡°Gustavo, you have keys?¡± ¡°For everything but the last door to the guard quarters.¡± The smuggler nodded. Demon Sentry #1 flew up to the top of the pit. The trap door through which new captives were thrown downward opened, and it flew up and out, a poisoned shank still in its left shoulder. All was silent below floor four, broken only by a mighty cheer from the surging rioters. Until¡­
Name: Demonic Asylum Warden
Rank: Leal Warden of the Demon King, Southern Shackled Asylum
Level 12
Status: 36/36 (Berserker Fury)
Weapons: Steel Spiked Bat (Str 30, Agl 10)
¡­ The asylum¡¯s warden leaped down out of the very same trapdoor. It landed on some of the newly victorious, cheering rioters with a great thud, crushing four of them where they stood. What¡¯s more, the Warden held a bauble high.
Item: Ginormous Level-Up Bauble of Strength Description: +500 XP, Bends Stat Distribution Towards Strength
This was enough for the Warden to level up not one, but twice!
Demonic Asylum Warden Leveled Up! Level: 13, 14!
Strength: 39 (+6)
Endurance: 31 (+2)
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 4 (+1)
Charisma: 2
Arcane: 7 (+1)
Luck: 2
Health surged to 39/39. Already he was far beyond the level range of what any captive could hope to reach. Through strength multipliers alone it could tear opponents apart with its bare hands. All that, and they still had at least three more Demon Sentries on the higher floors. ¡°Keep pressing!¡± Roland commanded. Gustavo had each floor¡¯s keys on a singular, bulging keyring. He opened the door up to the next floor and then followed the crowd of remaining rioters. Below, the Demonic Warden laid into stragglers. ¡°What shall we do?¡± Mia asked Roland. Her squire picked up the abandoned Behemoth Rebar Punishing Rod. ¡°Good sir, you cannot wield that with your current strength stats,¡± Mia said. But Roland slung his makeshift shield on his back and gripped the rebar with both hands, doubling his true strength and bringing stat requirements within his reach. He plodded onward, feeling the added heft on his frame. ¡°Gotta¡­¡± he huffed on the stairs. ¡°Get to the top floor.¡± Three more Demon Sentries remained between the prisoners and the top floor. Three foes, each above level eight, and the spearhead of their uprising was growing a little thin. ¡°Mia, hit ¡®em!¡± Rolland said, still lugging the rebar around. Mia summoned forth from her inventory:
Item: Parcel of Honeycomb (Occupied) Description: A chunk of honey-covered beehive from the beekeeper¡¯s annex of the Southern Undead Asylum. Still contains bees. Handle with care.
Mia used Throw, a basic action of the most mundane of modifiers. The honeycomb landed at the feet of Demon Sentry #3. At first, there was nothing, but then a whole horde of bees came out and started swarming. Dire-bee stings would do a flat 1 HP of damage, 2 HP with crits. This was consistent against any foe without rock or especially heavy armor, a level 100 Dire-Bison, or a level 8 demon. Only a Dire-Bison had thousands of HP while these demons only had thirty or so each.
Item: Parcel of Honeycomb (Occupied) Description: A chunk of honey-covered beehive from the beekeeper¡¯s annex of the Southern Undead Asylum. Still contains bees. Handle with care.
Mia used Throw, a basic action of the most simple of modifiers. The honeycomb fell before Demon Sentry #3. At first, all was quiet, but soon a swarm of dire-scorpionbees poured forth. Dire-bee stings would do a flat 1 HP of damage, 2 HP with crits. This was consistent against any foe without rock or especially heavy armor, a level 100 Dire-Bison, or a level 8 demon. Only a Dire-Bison had thousands of HP while these demons only had thirty or so each. Demons flailed about, swatting and being stung. Gustavo, Roland, and Mia rushed forth, tanking a sting or two each to be easily mended by Mia¡¯s Basic Heal. Below, their Warden pressed on in its warpath. Even if they fled the asylum, there would be no escape so long as that demonic ringleader yet lived. ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t have the key to the guard¡¯s quarters,¡± Gustavo said. ¡°Well, how do we get out?¡± Mia asked. ¡°Warden probably has the key. If either of you have some plan for how to deal with it¡­¡± ¡°Just wait here. Working on it!¡± Roland said. The squire hastened as he rounded the spiraling staircase to the uppermost floor, one that had been reserved specifically for demons for longer than Mia had been alive. There was no railing here ¨C demons could just flutter about on their bat wings, after all ¨C and the ledge loomed, a sheer drop down to the prison floor, where the Warden raged. Roland jumped, rebar club in both hands. He swung:
Special Technique: Plunging Attack Effect: Fall from a great height, allowing gravity to triple all strength-based damage multipliers.
The rebar club impacted the Demon Warden square in its squat, batlike head. Critical Hit!
Name: Demonic Asylum Warden
Status: 3/39 (Angry)
The Warden reeled, then righted itself. It leered at Roland, who¡¯d by now hopped off and struggled to bring his rebar club to bear. One hit would be all it took to defeat the Warden now¡­ except, the beast had another Ginormous Level-Up Bauble of Endurance ready ¨C more than enough to level up and reset its health and provide an END-based boost as well! Yes, this would be the end of Squire Roland¡¯s journey were it not for another falling figure from on high. Mia fell, a Plain Wooden Mallet in two hands.
Special Technique: Plunging Attack Effect: Fall from a great height, allowing gravity to triple all strength-based damage multipliers.
The healer¡¯s strength was but a fraction of Roland¡¯s. Her weapon was but level one with minimal stat requirements. But with pure velocity it more than finished off the last three hit points, slaying the demon. Experience flowed into all who happened to get a hit in on the Warden and what few survivors of its wrath remained. There were level-ups all around.
Roland Leveled Up! Level: 9
Strength: 16 (+1)
Endurance: 24 (+3)
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 10
Charisma: 10 (+2)
Arcane: 8
Luck: 7
Mia Leveled Up! Level: 8
Strength: 6 (+2)
Endurance: 7
Agility: 6
Intelligence: 18 (+1)
Charisma: 7
Arcane: 8 (+1)
Luck: 4
And what more¡­
Subject: Demonic Asylum Warden (Deceased)
Items: Steel Spiked Bat (Str 30, Agl 10) Demon Dung (x4) Demon Wing Webbing (x1) Asylum Master Key (x1) Gold x150