《Bog Standard Isekai - BOOK 3 STUBS FEB 16》 Book 1 - Chapter 1 Mark stood in the ruins of a burned down house, looked into the cracked mirror, and knew he was insane. He had a whole head full of memories, and none of them seemed to match the reality in front of his eyes. He saw a young boy, maybe ten, not older than fourteen, staring right back at him. That was not his age. That was not his face. His memories were all full of a programmer named Mark in his late twenties, with sandy blonde hair that was already balding. The boy in the mirror had thick black hair, cut short, with sky blue eyes, eye-catching eyes like Mark had always been jealous of. The biggest problem was the vicious oozing scab going all the way across the top of his scalp and down to the middle of his eyebrow. Spots of blood like splatter marks were dotting his shoulders and face, but he didn¡¯t feel hurt at all. More importantly, Mark had never gotten an injury like that in his life. Not even in the car crash. The car crash. The last thing Mark remembered before waking up here was his car slipping on the ice and the crash. He¡¯d been rushing home, eager to finish a couple hours of work from his home computer before finally being done for the day. His mind had been on work the entire drive, and even after the crash, when his body was screaming with pain and he felt the sting of the cold pavement drain away his life, he¡¯d still been distracted with work, thinking about who was going to finish his project if he didn¡¯t make it in tomorrow. His last thoughts¡­ had been about work. What a stupid life. He was glad it wasn¡¯t real. But that had to have been a dream, right? He hadn¡¯t gotten any head injuries. The image in the mirror looked like an ax had chopped straight through the skull and into the boy¡¯s brain. But that couldn¡¯t be; the gash was already scabbed over, and he didn¡¯t feel any kind of injury on his skull. The car crash, this weird boy in the mirror, it was all a dream. If this was really real, and he was really real, then he would be freaking out right now. Instead, he took it all in with a strange sort of detachment. His head hurt, and he was dizzy, but¡­ but that could happen in dreams, right? He¡¯d wake up any minute now. He didn¡¯t. He stared into the mirror, and the boy stared back at him. The boy was skinny, starving maybe, but full of lean, corded muscle. Mark had never had muscles like that, not even as an adult. It painted a certain kind of picture. This boy had been expected to work for his dinner, and work hard. Would he object to the fact that Mark was living in his body now? Maybe not. The house also had the smoldering remains of two adult bodies. His parents? The bodies were so disfigured by fire that he couldn¡¯t tell anything about them, not even age or gender. The fire hadn¡¯t burned away everything, though. There was the mirror of course, as well as a stone fireplace, with a big black pot and a fire poker nearby. A house fire wouldn¡¯t be hot enough to melt iron. He could search for valuables? He looked at the corpses again, and decided he didn¡¯t want to. His head swam. His stomach felt queasy. He needed to get out, to go outside. Although, outside was a relative term; the ceiling was completely gone, and he could see straight up to the gray misty clouds. It was going to rain soon. He put a hand to a remaining section of blackened wall to steady himself, and it crumbled under his slight weight. He stumbled away from it, startled that it had moved. Outside of the burned home, it was worse. There was a long dirt road, lined on each side with black and burned out houses. Some of them still smoldered silently, but most lay cold and empty. Nothing moved, except for a murder of happy, hopping crows. In the street not six feet away from him, lay the corpse of a man. It had the same rough woolen clothes that he realized he was wearing, but much more ornate with lines of colorful embroidery all up and down the legs and arms. The body wasn¡¯t decaying yet; whatever happened in this weird town hadn¡¯t been too long ago. Maybe a day. There were more corpses, here and there, down the street. He didn¡¯t look at them. He knew he should be¡­ something. Emotional. Scared. Panicking. Crying, maybe? He didn¡¯t feel anything. Even the scar on his head didn¡¯t seem to hurt, a little itchy maybe, but that was it. He just felt numb. He walked away, past house after house, until he got outside of the town. There were wide fields next, post-harvest. It was autumn, then? It didn¡¯t look like it. The trees in the distance were still bright green. He walked until he got to the trees and he couldn¡¯t smell ash anymore and sat down beneath a tree. He didn¡¯t know what kind. The leaves were five-pointed, in a perfect pentagram. Maybe that wasn¡¯t that weird; he didn¡¯t know much about trees. He sat beneath the tree and waited for whatever this was to be over. And waited. Hours passed, and the whole experience started to feel real. It wasn¡¯t like he never watched anime; he knew what this had to be. He¡¯d been isekai¡¯d, right? Except which was more likely: that he¡¯d actually been transported to another world, or that he was in a coma from his car crash and his imagination had painted a world exactly like he¡¯d expect from the media he¡¯d consumed? But if it was a dream, why was nothing happening? The entire time he¡¯d been sitting under the tree, nothing had happened. The one thing about dreams was that they never stayed still. He was starting to get thirsty. Hungry, too, and most of all bored. He stood up and walked the entire way back to town. He found a lot of bodies; more than he would like, but they didn¡¯t affect him as much as he¡¯d thought they would. Numb. Why was he so numb? He felt the cool breeze against the muggy heat. He felt the dirt road through his thin shoes. But in his heart he felt¡­ not much. Cold calculation. That man laying in the street looked like he died from bludgeoning. That child in a house over there died from fire, probably asphyxiation first then burning. This woman in the doorway died from decapitation. This was probably all a dream anyway, best if it didn¡¯t affect him too much. One structure still stood; an old-fashioned well. It was the kind with a big bucket that you had to pull up with a wooden crank. He dropped it in and cranked until his arms burned, then took a deep drink right out of the bucket. The water was cool, refreshing, almost sweet, and much too real. The bucket itself was pretty neat; it was all wood, except the various planks it was made of were held together by slotting into each other perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. The dirt road and the small houses without any concrete in the walls or foundation had made him think this town was medieval, but the bucket made him think otherwise. Something this perfect had to have been made with machine tools. That, or by someone with way too much time on their hands. Curious, he steeled himself and started to search the houses. Like the first house, many of them had big cast-iron cooking pots in stone fireplaces. That alone made him think it was a pre-industrial society. But there were oddities. The doors had very intricate brass doorknobs and locks, and he found the remains of a clock in one larger home. He smacked his forehead. The mirror. He¡¯d found a mirror in the house he¡¯d woken up in. Household mirrors hadn¡¯t become a thing until the 19th century. He was in 1850 or so? The only problem with that were the bodies. Every corpse that wasn¡¯t burned away showed signs of violence, but not a single bullet wound. Slashing and bludgeoning wounds, unnecessarily large and brutal. But no bullet wounds, not a single one. He didn¡¯t find a single gun in any of the houses either, or on any of the corpses even though several of them still carried their weapons. Spears and halberds mostly, but one man had a scythe and another some kind of ridiculously oversized ax. That¡¯s how he knew for a fact that this wasn¡¯t real. The technology didn¡¯t match the time period at all. Despite knowing it wasn¡¯t real, time continued to march on, and he didn¡¯t wake up. He found a nice big rock and sat down. The sun was starting to cross over the horizon. He¡¯d been searching the houses all day. He felt the warm, muggy air. He heard the cawing of the crows, and felt his stomach churning unpleasantly. It felt real. Maybe it was time to start acting like this was real life? Honestly though, he didn¡¯t want this to be real. Something appeared in front of his eyes. A blue box, with white letters.
#????G???H????Z????^????J????^?????&????A????!???$?????
He had no idea what it meant. Another came.
E????R???!????!????$?????#?????T???
E???r???r???o???r???
???E???r???r???o???r???
???S???y???s???t???e???m??? ???n???o???n???-???e???n???t???i???t???y??? ???f???o???u???n???d???
He jumped back, so quickly that he hit his head on something. He couldn¡¯t see anything but the messages, and they kept coming.
P???r???o???c???e???s???s???i???n???g???
??? E???r???r???o???r???.???
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???E???R???R???O???R???
??? A???L???E???R???T???
They were becoming clearer now. Error messages? ¡°What are you?¡± he asked, shocked at his small, high-pitched voice. Was that really the first time he¡¯d spoken in his new body? Wow, he really was thinking of this as his new body, wasn¡¯t he?
C?o?n?t?a?c?t? ?e?s?t?a?b?l?i?s?h?e?d?.?
P?r?o?c?e?s?sing¡­
Processing¡­
Hello! Welcome to #HG%!Error
Alert!
You have been granted System access.
You are a child. Your System has been limited.
You have been granted the class: Child of Travin¡¯s Bog
You can now see your status screen.
You have gained a title: Traveler
You have gained a title: Otherworlder.
Notice: Titles are locked pending full system access.
You have been granted the skill: Frenerian Language Fluency
You have been granted the skill: Frenerian Language Literacy
Notice: System skills are locked pending full System access.
Alert!
System Override: Frenerian Language Fluency unlocked
System Override: Frenerian Language Literacy unlocked
Mark smiled. Of course. The blue screens. He really was dreaming. Any minute now he¡¯d get his special cheat power, and then he¡¯d go on an epic quest to defeat the demon king.
Alert!
You have been granted the skill: Know What¡¯s Real
System Override: Know What¡¯s Real unlocked
¡°Nothing to do but check my status screen. I guess I should just get it over with. Status,¡± said Mark.
Information
Name Mark !Error!
Age 12
Race Human
Class Child of Travin¡¯s Bog
Level 1
Attributes
Strength 8
Dexterity 12
Vitality 8
Magic 9
Control 10
Will 8
Titles
Traveler Locked
Otherworlder Locked
Those seemed¡­ fine. The numbers weren¡¯t high enough to make him think he had cheat-like god powers or anything, but they didn¡¯t seem terribly low. Not that he had anything to compare it to. The average human strength could be 1 for all he knew. Or 100. It wasn¡¯t over yet, though.
Skills
Frenerian Language Fluency You can speak and understand the language of your native country, Freneria.
Frenerian Language Literacy You can read and write the language of your native country, Freneria.
His ¡°native country¡±, huh? He could still remember how to speak English, but now he was shocked to find he had a whole new language in his mind, and he could compare the two. He talked out loud to himself, trying to get a feel for the new language on his tongue. ¡°Let¡¯s give this a try,¡± he said, which came out to ¡°To looni, indisu to isu o in¡¯allini tellidu dulunni entlaven.¡± It was sort of a caveman language, to be honest. There weren¡¯t different verb forms for past and present and future: you had to say the time and place. ¡°I go tomorrow¡± and ¡°I go yesterday¡± instead of ¡°I will go¡± or ¡°I went.¡± And ¡°Let¡¯s give this a try¡± didn¡¯t translate exactly, so he¡¯d ended up saying something like ¡°We will now do an attempt¡± which had somehow taken twenty-five entire syllables to say, instead of a reasonable five or six. He couldn¡¯t get too bogged down in the language, though, cool as it was to have it magically appear in his head. This sweet dream had one Skill left for him and he hoped it was a good one.
Know What¡¯s Real The goddess Solia has noticed your unique circumstances and granted this skill as a boon. You have the ability to understand when something you experience or remember is real, and when it is an illusion or dream. Mark, this is real. I¡¯m sorry, but it¡¯s really happening and you¡¯re in danger!
Reading the skill must have triggered it, because as soon as he read the words, the reality of his situation hit with the weight of the entire world. He had died, and been reincarnated, or isekei¡¯d or portaled, but whatever the case, the truth was that his old life was over. His nice apartment downtown, his hefty vacation fund, his six-figure job, it was all gone. He¡¯d never see his parents again, or his friends. He¡¯d never make things right with his ex. He wanted to pretend that it was possible that he was crazy, or that he was dreaming. But the new Skill, [Know What¡¯s Real], left no room for doubt. He knew what was real. It was all real, and it was happening. The beautiful, protective numbness he¡¯d felt since coming to this world was gone, and in its place was pain. Pain, fear, and loss so profound he thought he might choke on it. ¡°No. No no no no nonono. Please,¡± he sank to his knees. What was the name of that goddess? He read the notification again. ¡°Solia, no, please. Take it back. I don¡¯t want that. Just let me die oblivious and happy. I¡¯d be fine with that. Please.¡± He¡¯d gone to church almost every sunday for most of his life, so it was embarrassing how quickly he forgot the whole ¡°no other gods before me¡± thing, but this was important. ¡°Please. Take it away.¡± Tears sprang to his eyes, but he forced them back down. A life with contact lenses had turned that into instinct. He wouldn¡¯t need contacts anymore. His vision was perfect now. At least he had that going for him. He laughed at himself, and it came out as a desperate sob. He heard a sound behind him, and whirled around while trying to stand, nearly falling over himself in fright. You¡¯re in danger. But it was just a stupid bird. He was in danger, though. The second part of the [Know What¡¯s Real] had a different tone, like someone had hijacked part of the notification to send him a warning. Maybe Solia, maybe someone or something else. Whoever it was, he couldn¡¯t disregard it. The danger was real. And as much as he told himself he didn¡¯t want to live with this huge, gnawing, empty sense of loss that was building in his stomach, he was also afraid to die. Somehow he knew he would die if he didn¡¯t do something quick. But what? What was the danger? Almost unbidden, that wrinkly brain he was so proud of kicked into full gear. The danger was probably the same thing that had killed everyone in this town. He¡¯d walked up and down this town, and looked in the basements and cellars, and he hadn¡¯t found a single living soul. Nature hadn¡¯t done this. When mother nature rebuked her children, she almost always left some alive to spread the word. Beasts ate until they were full; they didn¡¯t leave corpses in the street. Fires would never burn every house, while leaving the forest around the town alone. Only people could do something like this. People or¡­ monsters? He was in some kind of fantasy world. The blue screen proved it. Monsters were a possibility. But since he had no idea what kind of monsters were possible, he couldn¡¯t really adjust his plans for it. He had two options. Hide in one of the intact cellars, or run into the forest. Fighting wasn''t an option. His system was locked since he was a child, and he didn¡¯t know when it would be unlocked. Could be ten minutes, could be ten years. It wasn¡¯t worth depending on. Two options, hide or flee. If it really was an army, then fleeing into the forest was the better option. The army, if that¡¯s what it was, had gone house to house and killed every single living soul. They must¡¯ve dragged out anyone hiding in the cellars, because he hadn¡¯t found any corpses there. On the other hand, if the danger was wolves or monsters drawn to the carrion spread all over the town, then the better option was to hide in the cellars. Which was more likely? He had no way of knowing. ¡°Think!¡± he told himself. ¡°What else do I know? This was recent. From the way that some of the homes are still smoking, they were probably lit on fire yesterday. Or maybe the night before? Solia¡¯s skill said I¡¯m in danger, but nothing happened when I was wandering around uselessly all day. That probably means the danger came at night.¡± The crow was still there, looking at him like he was crazy, so he asked, ¡°Is that what happened? Did something come last night?¡± Of course the crow didn¡¯t answer. It hopped a couple times, then lazily flew away. Mark checked the horizon. Thick foggy clouds covered the sky, but it was rapidly growing darker. He had minutes before nightfall. Not even enough time to get to the forest, unless he sprinted. He hid. He found a cellar, the perfect one. It was somewhat hidden behind tall grass, but he could still see through a tiny gap in the door to the cross-street with the well. From there he watched, waiting to see what happened. Waiting to see if he¡¯d survive his first night in his new life. Book 1 - Chapter 2 The cellar was cold. Colder than outside, much colder than it should be. He¡¯d spent enough time in the modern world to recognize the feeling; this cellar was refrigerated. He knew he was right, there was no mistaking the feeling, but there was no machinery around that could explain it. The floor and walls were made of dirt. He hadn¡¯t gone into any of the other cellars, maybe they were all like that? There could be some kind of magical cooling going on. On the shelves there were wheels of cheese, bread wrapped in thin cloth, and a few jars of preserves. Nothing that would really need to be refrigerated. He would probably have to dart out to try to find something to cover himself with, even if that meant pulling clothes off the dead. If he could even bring himself to do it. He wouldn¡¯t be able to stay here overnight, and who knew when the ¡°danger¡± would arrive. Honestly he didn¡¯t even know if he could trust that warning. Just as he started to push the cellar doors open, he saw something through the thin crack of the door, and pulled his hand away like he¡¯d been burned. Something was moving through the town. Something bright, a flickering, unsteady light. Torches. Was it an army? If so then he was dead. Thanks, Solia. After all the panic and despair her Skill had given him, he was still going to die. Thanks a lot. And why was it so cold? It wasn¡¯t fair that he¡¯d die cold in both lives. With creeping dread, he watched through the gap in the door as the light grew brighter and brighter. Then he saw them. Monsters or an army? How about both? He saw fire first, then noticed the things inside the fire. Black corpses, eyeless, with a thin layer of blackened flesh wrapped tightly over their bones. They marched as red and unholy flames wrapped their bodies, always burning but never diminishing. Their steps were artless and unnatural. An army of undead, wrapped in flame. A burning legion. He stayed still, so terrified he couldn¡¯t even think of moving. He barely knew if he was even breathing. But none of the monsters even glanced in his direction. They marched forward, angry and callous. Incurious. Rank after rank, with strange mismatched weapons. Axes and hammers so large they never should have been able to carry them with those thin arms. Swords and shields, spears and pikes, even some with wooden longbows. Why didn¡¯t the weapons burn? Magic? He saw one break off the ranks to turn to one of the structures whose ruins were taller than the rest. One of the ghouls raised a hand, and a stream of flame shot from his hand and blasted into the still-standing wall. The force of it knocked the remaining structure to dust, lighting the ruins aflame again. They were ghastly. And wrong. As wrong as an army of flaming undead, but also wrong, like there was something about this picture that was¡­ not true. A deception. Why was it still so cold? Was there cold magic in the cellar to protect anyone hiding inside from the giant flaming army outside? That would make sense. The dead villagers must¡¯ve had some kind of magic, though it hadn¡¯t saved them. He snapped his focus back to the burning army. Wrong. The fire¡­ it wasn¡¯t real. His skill, [Know What¡¯s Real], it was telling him something. The undead were real. The fire was fake. The entire undead army was real, but the flames were an illusion. Then how had they burned the town down? He picked one undead soldier and watched him. Really watched him. The illusion didn¡¯t go away, but he saw little glimmers, here and there. Tiny signs that what he was watching wasn¡¯t quite right. When one ghoul¡¯s flames touched another, they just sort of went through each other instead of combining. And his hand¡­ it wasn¡¯t at his waist. It was in the air. It was¡­ holding a torch. He saw a ghoul reach the well, the one structure that was still standing. In the illusion, the ghoul shot fire out of his hands. But through that, though¡­ he could faintly see the shadows of reality. One ghoul hacked at the well with an ax, while the other lit it on fire with a torch. They were faking the flame attacks. Why, though? This army was clearly capable of destroying a town, why bother with the subterfuge? It was here that his gaming knowledge came in handy, specifically his RPG knowledge. He¡¯d never been a huge MMO fan, though he¡¯d played a few. They weren¡¯t any fun solo, and he¡¯d refused to invest the amount of time into them that it takes to make a good group of friends. In fact, he¡¯d made fun of the guys who played so many video games that they completely failed to get a career. Ironic, because now his career was less than worthless, and the only thing that mattered was his video game knowledge. Not that this was a video game, he knew it wasn¡¯t, but it was a good starting point for organizing his thoughts. In lots of video games, the undead were weak against fire, while water or ice spells were weaker against them. These undead were disguising themselves with fire. Anyone who saw them would naturally try to fight against them with water or ice, which would do nothing. That tactic wouldn¡¯t work forever. It wouldn¡¯t work at all if a group turned and fought. But that probably didn¡¯t happen. Everyone probably panicked the second they saw the monsters arrive. And when they started lighting houses on fire, it would be hot enough to be convincing. Could he use this information? Well, no, probably not. He was still just one little boy. If the worst happened and the undead spotted him, he¡¯d try to grab one of their torches, but the odds that he¡¯d be able to fight them off were less than zero. The ghouls weren¡¯t that afraid of fire, not if they were carrying the torches in the first place. With that in mind, he backed away from the door. His best chance was to stay in here and hide. Thinking about it again, the fact that he hadn¡¯t found any bodies in the cellars was a really good sign. It was doubtful that the ghouls would¡¯ve bothered to pull people out before slaughtering them. It made more sense to assume that the people hiding in the cellars had survived the night of the attack, then fled the area during the daytime. Using video game logic, ghouls hunted using heat vision. That could¡¯ve been the reason the villagers magicked their cellars to be freezing cold. It was possible the army simply wouldn¡¯t be able to see him down here. He crawled underneath the shelves and lay in the cold dirt behind some bags of flour. He found a few empty bags and used them as a blanket, but it was still freezing cold. Cold was better than dead. Wasn¡¯t it? He was already practically dead. The life he knew was over. The Master¡¯s degree he¡¯d spent years working and sacrificing for was useless. Who wanted someone who could program machines that didn¡¯t exist? It¡¯s not like he could make a computer. He had only a basic idea of how they worked; if he wanted to be an engineer he would have studied engineering. His career was over. He¡¯d worked his butt off for four years after graduating, saving everything, planning on taking a whole year off someday soon and traveling the world. He¡¯d stay in the best hotels, eat the best food, meet new and interesting people. Now all of it was in vain. That money he¡¯d saved would go to his parents. In the cold, in the dark, it felt like every decision he¡¯d ever made was a mistake. Why didn¡¯t he live his life when he was alive? He could¡¯ve seen the grand canyon; it was only six hours away. He could¡¯ve eaten at all the best restaurants in Denver only one hour away. His ex probably would have stuck around if he¡¯d refused to work fourteen-hour days during crunch for that game company. They¡¯d ended up laying him off anyway, though he¡¯d failed forwards with a new job and a fifty percent pay raise. At the time he¡¯d felt vindicated, but it was all stupid. All a mistake. And now he lived in a crappy medieval world where a hot night on the town probably meant an extra portion of gruel and splitting an apple between fourteen people. Despite his dark mood, he never actually thought about standing up and walking to the army to let them kill him. He was too scared. He lay, shivering, flinching at the sound of ghouls who wandered close, until somehow he fell asleep.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! When he woke up the next morning, the army was gone.
He left his cellar and examined the surroundings. The town was even more burnt down than yesterday, with few structures standing above his height. Burning stuff by pressing a torch to it wasn¡¯t that easy. They¡¯d probably caught the thatch roofs on fire the first day they¡¯d invaded. Everything very flammable had burned then; after that they hadn¡¯t made much progress. He found the well, slashed and burned. Disappointing, but there was still a hole in the ground. The bucket was missing, but if he could find another one and some rope, then he would still have a source of water. He¡¯d learned a little bit of survival skills with the boy scouts. Shelter, water, food, in that order. You could freeze to death in one afternoon, die of thirst in a day or two, but it took weeks to starve to death. Before that, he had a decision to make. ¡°Same decision as before. Flee or hide?¡± talking to himself felt weird, but he wanted to voice his opinions out loud, so he walked over to a group of crows and talked to them instead. ¡°It¡¯s not much of a decision, really. I have no idea where the survivors fled to, or if there even were any. I¡¯m more likely to run into the undead camp than I am to find survivors. Here in town I have shelter, water, and food. I¡¯ll stay here. If that¡¯s alright with you fellas.¡± He must¡¯ve walked too close, because the crows flew away, a short distance to a different corpse. Mark followed them. ¡°The undead will leave, now that they¡¯re out of victims. Or someone will come with an army. They don¡¯t just let undead armies run wild around here, do they? You crows probably love undead armies. Round the clock buffet. But we humans, see, we don¡¯t like things like this.¡± The crows ignored him. Whatever. He had better things to do. He found a bucket in one of the cellars, and then with more searching found a replacement rope, and finally got himself a drink of water, though those two tasks took up the entire morning. After that, he searched for blankets, and found several more bags he could use while holed up in the freezing cellars. He also found a really sharp knife, and a short sword that fit his small frame. He doubted he¡¯d be able to kill even a single one of the black ghouls, but he still felt better carrying it around. Food wasn¡¯t a problem. The cellars were mostly cleared out, leaving only a loaf of bread here or a jar of something there, but he was only one person so it was more than enough to survive on for months. The bread was hard as a rock, and he¡¯d had to carve pieces of it away with his knife and soften it with water, but when he did it was incredibly delicious. Rich, thick, and dark, it made his mouth explode with the beautiful, rich flavor. It was probably just the hunger talking; he¡¯d probably spit it out if he had a hamburger on hand, but even so, he thought it might be the best thing he¡¯d ever tasted. At least, until he found the cheese. Simply unbelievable. He didn¡¯t know cheese could be this good. Is that why people bought that super expensive cheese in the grocery stores? He desperately wished he could go back and try some, but regret didn¡¯t fill stomachs. Fantasy-world cheese did, though, and it did it wonderfully. The next night the undead army arrived again, with all their fake flame and unholy glory. Again, they didn¡¯t find him, and he slept in a cellar, shivering and terrified. Days passed, and he fell into a routine. Scavenging things during the day. Hiding at night. He found an ax and started hacking down any wooden beams that had survived the constant pillaging. He hid them in empty cellars. Maybe if the ghouls had nothing left to burn, they¡¯d leave him alone, and then he could sleep above ground where it wasn¡¯t so cold. His daily searches also revealed a disturbing pattern. The bodies were slowly but surely starting to disappear. The burned ones from inside the homes went first, but then the bloated, quickly-rotting ones from the town streets started to go. The undead army was adding to its ranks. He knew he should do something, burn the bodies or bury them, but there were already hundreds of undead. A few more wouldn¡¯t make any difference. That was the excuse he gave himself. Also, moving them would be near impossible with his little arms. He didn¡¯t want to go near them, they stank. He could get diseases. And of course, if their bodies started disappearing, the undead might catch on that he was still here. They might start looking for him. All good reasons to leave the dead where they lie, but it weighed on him. Here he was, watching them disintegrate more and more, and he didn¡¯t do anything. He looked away from their rotted, accusing eyes. He tried to ignore them. It felt sacrilegious to live in a town where everyone was dead. He talked to the crows just to hear the sound of a human voice, but it felt wrong to disturb the awful peace with the sounds of life. Maybe without [Know What¡¯s Real] it would be better. He wished he could pretend that this was the Matrix. That he was still wounded in a hospital bed and they¡¯d strapped him into some kind of advanced VR. Or that he was in a coma or something, but he couldn¡¯t. He knew this was all real. Whatever that Skill was doing to him, it left no room for doubt. Those weren¡¯t set pieces and they weren¡¯t digital loot boxes. Those had been real people, with their own little joys and sorrows and now they were dead, and he wasn¡¯t, and they were being turned and he wasn¡¯t doing anything to stop it. He had good reasons, but it weighed on him. It wasn¡¯t all bad, though. He found a good amount of metal coins, mostly brass, but a few that could be silver. Those would be valuable if he ever found another place with people. Absolute pay dirt, however, came from one cellar he found that was five times larger than the rest, and packed full of preserved meat. Sausages, ham, chicken, mutton, beef, and many cuts of meat from animals he couldn¡¯t identify. Giant snake, maybe? Could that one be a giant spider? He left the weird stuff alone, but even without it there was enough to last him months, maybe years. When he found the bacon, he nearly cried. He found flint and some cookware in the ashes of a home, and made a reasonable campsite kitchen. The bacon was fantastic, and he could use the grease to cook other things. The army came, night after night. They gave up trying to burn what remained, and simply spent the night ambling around. One thing was clear; they weren¡¯t leaving. Two weeks passed, until one night, there was a change. He noticed the change even before he saw any undead. As dusk turned to night, he heard a soft, rhythmic sound. A repeated beat. Thump, thump, thump. It was an ordinary beat, but to Mark it was almost hypnotic. It was the first sound of anything close to music that he¡¯d heard since coming to this world, he was tempted to open his cellar door just a smidge to peep and get a better look. The flickering light cast by the illusory flames told him it was the ghouls making the sound, so he stayed hidden. The first ghouls crossed the path that he could see from the tiny crack in his cellar doors, and he saw that they were marching. They walked in orderly lines, stepping to the same beat. Thump, thump, thump. From the sound of it, they crossed the entire town, then split up. When he next saw the ghouls, they were split up into groups of three. They moved completely differently than he¡¯d ever seen them before. Instead of the lazy, uncaring trudging, they now moved with energy and purpose. They rotated their heads from side to side, scanning the ground. They poked bushes with their weapons and pushed over piles of debris. Searching for something. Searching for him. A ghoul reached the cellar doors, in the ground directly across from him. Mark expected it to turn away like they always did. Cellars are cold. Cold is uninteresting. The ghoul opened the doors, and walked inside. If they were searching cellars, it wouldn¡¯t be long until they entered his. His heart beat like a drum, and so loud he was surprised the ghouls couldn¡¯t hear it. Maybe they could. They¡¯d come down any second and then¡­ No. He wouldn¡¯t just sit and wait. He needed to do something. He got a big flour sack, a full one, and dumped half of it on the floor. Then he pushed it behind all the other flour sacks, blocking the way with loaves of bread, jars and jugs, everything he could find. Then he climbed inside the half-empty flour sack, and tried to bury himself inside. Before long, he stopped himself. Panic made him want to keep moving, but giving in to panic here would mean death. If the undead came down here, any tiny movement would give him away. The flour was cold, like burying himself in snow, but he blessed the coldness if it was what was protecting him from the ghouls¡¯ rotten eyes. He didn¡¯t know. Even after all this time he didn¡¯t know for sure, but it was the best he had. Hiding in the cellars had worked. Until tonight. He lay absolutely still. Flour got up his nose but he didn¡¯t dare cough, even though his throat started to burn. He could barely breathe. The flour sacks weren¡¯t air tight, but close enough. He heard something. Quiet steps, coming down the stairs. He heard things being pulled off the shelves. A ceramic pot landed with a thunk. He felt the vibrations through the wood, as the things in front of him were being thrown to the ground. The flour sack was still cold. He didn¡¯t dare move at all, but where the sack touched his skin he still felt the draining cold. Would it be good enough? The sounds stopped. He waited for them to pull him off the shelf, but it didn¡¯t happen. He felt a snag instead, the walls of the flour sack pulling in tight, then away. Then, there was light. A little hole in the flour sack. They must¡¯ve stabbed it. They must¡¯ve stabbed straight through, right between where his knee and elbow had been. Somehow, through sheer force of character, he managed to avoid screaming. He forced his voice to stay silent. He forced his sobs of panic and relief to stay silent though he couldn¡¯t stop the streaming tears. He heard the ghouls¡¯ footsteps retreat out of the cellar, and he didn¡¯t make a sound. Something appeared in his vision.
Through your efforts you have increased the following attributes.
Will +1
For some reason, that didn¡¯t help at all. He shivered in the dark until he fell asleep. Book 1 - Chapter 3 The next morning, he knew he needed to make a break for it. Last night had been too close. He didn¡¯t feel safe in the cellars any more. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d ever feel safe again. He loaded a burlap sack up with all the food he could easily carry, as well as a canteen of water. The undead army entered the town from the north every evening, so he started jogging to the south, determined to get as much distance as he could before night fell. On the way out of town, he passed a crow. They¡¯d gotten so used to him they didn¡¯t even fly away when he approached. ¡°I¡¯m leaving. I can¡¯t stay here any more. I just can¡¯t.¡± The crow didn¡¯t judge him. It simply watched him go. He half jogged, half walked, careful not to exhaust himself. It felt good to be moving. It felt good to get that town and its undead army behind him. The sun was shining, and the air was warm and sweet. He started to feel a little of the fear and chill on his heart melt away, but that was an illusion. He wasn¡¯t really safe. He needed to remember that. He quickly arrived at the forest and followed the road inside. The forest was thick and wild. Maybe he was used to the carefully manicured national parks, but he had never seen a forest like this. The trees stretched up and covered nearly every inch of the sky, fighting for precious real estate and trying to block each other out. Below, thick underbrush blocked the way everywhere except the road. Light green saplings, thin and weak trees trying to reach their parents in the thin light below, and dark green ferns with surprisingly firm, wood-like leaves. The taller trees were all covered in green moss, especially around the base. It was such a consistent wall of green, that the first sign of something else stood out like a sore thumb. White strands of something hung from one of the smaller trees of the underbrush. He hacked his way to it, using the shortsword as a machete, and found strands of something tying the small tree to some of the bigger ones, like a child playing with yarn had strung it all around as decoration. The thread was as thick as yarn, but didn¡¯t have the same texture. It was strong, almost like hard plastic, and a little sticky. He strummed it a few times, playing with it, trying to make sense of it. Something the size of a dog darted out of the shadows at him, and a lucky panicked kick sent it flying back. It was lighter than he¡¯d expected for an animal that size. It wasn¡¯t until the thing crept towards him again, more cautiously this time, that he knew what it was. The white stuff was spider web. Giant spider web, from giant spiders. He saw the glint of the dim light against eight eyes on a basketball-sized head. It was small, maybe he could take it? The underbrush behind the spider shook. All of the underbrush shook; it looked like a strong wind was passing through the area, but the air was still. There were many, many more spiders. Mark turned and ran, not looking back. This had been a bad idea. Yes, the undead were terrible. Yes, only luck had protected him from them last night. One of these nights, they might find him. But they were a known threat; he might be able to survive in the town. One thing he knew for sure. He would never survive the forest. He ran the entire way back to town. A crow was waiting in a field next to the road when he arrived, maybe the same one from this morning. ¡°I¡¯m already back. Don¡¯t laugh; it¡¯s bad out there.¡± That night the undead army were back to their usual mindless shambling. Whatever had been motivating them the night before was gone now.
Escape was out. But he had to do something. If he didn¡¯t have something to work towards, he¡¯d go crazy. The only other option was to fight back, maybe by laying traps, or finding other subtle ways to screw with them. He hadn¡¯t done anything until now because he¡¯d been afraid that if they knew someone was still alive in this town, they¡¯d start checking the cellars. Well, that ship had sailed. Time to get some payback. He¡¯d start with a small trap, something that could look like a random accident. And he already had the perfect idea. On his first foray into each of the cellars of the town, he¡¯d found one next to a smaller home that hadn¡¯t been built very well. Unlike all the other cellars which were supported by strong wooden beams or pioneer masonry, this one really was just a hole in the ground, with one thin tent-pole stick to keep it from collapsing. It would make a perfect pitfall trap, with a little work to help it along. He¡¯d never really made anything like that before, but he figured he understood the concept. He got a shovel, and started digging out the roof, scraping the dirt off the ceiling until he got to the roots of the grass up above. The entire ceiling collapsed on him, of course, but that was fine. He¡¯d just have to replace it. He made a false floor over the pit where the cellar used to be with sticks from the forest covered by flour sacks, and then a thin layer of dirt. He was worried that the undead would spot it immediately, but the sun was going down so he had to get back to his home base cellar before they spotted him. The next morning, the area was untouched. He was a little disappointed that none of them had fallen in, but it was probably a good thing. The drop was only about four feet right now. He found he was excited to start work again. The work was addicting. It was nice to have something to do. No, that was an understatement. He¡¯d been hungry for this. He¡¯s been starving for a direction, a purpose. Every pull of the shovel felt like he was pulling life back into himself. The work took longer than he¡¯d estimated, and the hours flew by. At the end of the day, he stood up, stretched his back, wiped his brow, took a drink of water, and then was surprised to be alone in a burned-down village full of rotting corpses. Somehow, during the work, he¡¯d forgotten about this nightmare his life had become. He dreaded going back into his home-cellar, and was already looking forward to a hard day of work the next day. He dug out the cellar, until it was twice as deep as he was tall. The work took him several days, but all he had was time.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. The System had a nice surprise for him, when he was done.
Through training you have increased the following attributes.
Strength +1
Vitality+1
He didn¡¯t really feel any stronger, but it was nice that ¡°limited¡± System access included stuff like this. Was it possible that he¡¯d also be able to gain experience and level up? The part of his status screen that said ¡°Level: 1¡± implied that it was possible. His status screen had said that his System was ¡°Locked¡± so that might mean he wouldn¡¯t be able to yet. No way to know for sure. He almost wished he had stayed back to kill that giant spider. On the other hand¡­ nope. With the pit suitably deep, he had one last thing he wanted to add. With some of the remaining chunks of wood he¡¯d rescued, he sat in the cellar and whittled them away, turning the blocks of wood into toothpick-sized splinters. He also found a mill, or rather, a millstone with the mill burned down around it, and found that the stone was really good at making sawdust. He scraped wood back and forth on it for hours, until he had four big flour-sacks full of sawdust. He left all the sawdust and splinters at the bottom of the cellar. Some crows flew near and gave him questioning looks, so he explained. ¡°Sure, let me lay out what I¡¯m doing here. I¡¯ve been digging that hole, but I¡¯m starting to think that a simple pitfall trap isn¡¯t going to work. Even if I could get the pit ten or fifteen feet deep, and I sincerely doubt that I can, what¡¯s the guarantee that a fall like that would even kill an undead like that? It wouldn¡¯t even kill a person, not unless they landed on their head somehow.¡± He gave a polite pause to see if the crows wanted to add to the conversation, but they didn¡¯t even caw. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s got to be strange for a bird to think of a fall as something dangerous, but to us land creatures it is. I was thinking of sharpening wooden stakes to put at the bottom, but piercing damage mostly hurts things that can bleed. I don¡¯t know how well it would work against these guys. So we¡¯re going to try fire. ¡°And not just any fire. Have you heard of a dust explosion? I remember seeing a video once where a baker tried to put out a grease fire by smothering it with a bag of flour, and it just exploded. Hopefully this sawdust will do something similar here.¡± ¡°My plan is: When the ghouls fall into the cellar, they¡¯ll kick up a cloud of sawdust into the air. After that, a single spark will be enough to make the whole thing explode, and hopefully the splinters and the rest of the sawdust will burn quick enough to do some lethal damage. ¡°Now if only I can figure out how to provide the spark¡­¡± He facepalmed loud enough to scare away the crows. ¡°The ghouls are all carrying torches,¡± he shouted after them. ¡°They¡¯ll provide the spark themselves!¡± For the last touch, he made a house. A little dollhouse, but he used the best remaining wood, and gave it a roof of dried grass. It was an ugly, crude little thing, but hopefully the ghouls wouldn¡¯t be able to resist running up and knocking it over. He despised the undead and their irrational need to destroy everything left standing. It¡¯d be poetic to use that against them. He gently placed it over the pitfall trap, praying that it wouldn¡¯t be too heavy to make the thing collapse prematurely. That night, he could hardly sleep, but for once it wasn¡¯t from the terror or the fear. He listened as the ghouls made their nightly pilgrimage, their soft footfalls walking through the town. Quiet and deadly, only audible because there were so many. He¡¯d been tempted to find a cellar close enough to watch the whole thing go down, but that was madness. He stayed in a cellar as far away as possible. For the first few hours, he¡¯d thought he¡¯d failed. That was fine. Something to work on tomorrow. Suddenly, he was jolted awake by the sound of screeching. A ghastly scream echoed through the night, an angry tortured soul. No, not just one, at least three voices screamed into the night, and then suddenly there were loud footsteps everywhere. Other ghouls took up alarms. They made strange, warbling cries that echoed all across town. Terror gripped him. Mark hid behind some flour sacks. They were so small, such a thin layer of protection. Stupid. Everything had been fine. Why did he have to stir the pot? Surely this would convince the ghouls to check the cellars again. But they never did. They ran all across the town, but never checked underground. Eventually calls of alarm died down. The footfalls slowed. A notification appeared.
Alert!
You have defeated:
Undead Warrior of the Flaming Horde [22]
Due to level disparity extra experience will be rewarded.
Alert!
You have defeated:
Undead Warrior of the Flaming Horde [21]
Due to level disparity extra experience will be rewarded.
Alert!
You have defeated:
Undead Soldier of the Flaming Horde [26]
Due to level disparity extra experience will be rewarded.
Alert!
Your System is currently locked. Experience confiscated.
His heart sank. It didn¡¯t seem fair. Kill the bad guys, level up, get stronger, that¡¯s how this type of world was supposed to work. What was he supposed to do now? That pitfall trap had taken days to make. If he wanted to trap the whole army like that, he¡¯d be working at it for years at this point. And that was only if they were stupid enough to keep falling in. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be that lucky. He dismissed his notifications, and another one popped up.
Behold!
The System is locked for children as a mercy, not a punishment. A Quest has been applied on your behalf. Hold fast; aid is coming.
He blinked and read it again. And again. Something stirred in his heart, something he hadn¡¯t felt in a while. Hope. This was a good sign, right? This notification felt different than the others. It didn¡¯t use the same terse, mechanical language as his other notifications; it felt much more direct and personal. Also somewhat scriptural. Had that goddess Solia taken an interest in him again, or could it be someone or something else? He had no way of knowing. As depressed as he could be about losing out on the experience, he was actually feeling pretty good. He had definitely killed three monsters, gained a lot of information about the System, and now there was a Quest for someone to come and rescue him. He couldn¡¯t wait to get out there and find the remains of the ghouls he¡¯d killed. Book 1 - Chapter 4 The next morning he woke up before dawn, excited like a kid on Christmas morning. He burst out the door when the first peek of sunlight came over the horizon and he could be sure there were no more ghouls lurking about. He dashed over to the pitfall trap, shouting to the crows on the way over. ¡°Come on! Come and see!¡± Inside he found the corpses of three¡­ corpses. What did you call the body of a dead undead? Worries for another time. Although he¡¯d seen them from peeking through a tiny crack in the cellar door, this was the first time he¡¯d seen his enemies up close. Their skin wasn¡¯t actually black like he¡¯d first assumed; more of a dirty gray, it was the tight black woolen clothing they wore that had made them seem that way. It covered everything but their faces; they even wore tight skull caps. These weren''t the clothes they¡¯d died in; They fit too well. Someone or something had put new clothes on them afterwards. They weren¡¯t walking skeletons, either, but something close. Their eyes were sunken deep into their skulls, their ears were the size of peanuts, and he was thankfully spared the sight of any¡­ lower organs by the black clothing. The sawdust and shavings had burned away, and large portions of the ghouls¡¯ bodies were burned through as well. It also looked like he hadn¡¯t gotten the sawdust explosion he¡¯d been hoping for, or if he had, it hadn¡¯t been effective. The ghouls weren¡¯t shattered anywhere. Their injuries were all burns, straight through wherever the fire had touched them. ¡°So the fire killed them,¡± he told the crows. One of them was already down in the pit, pecking at the undead flesh curiously. ¡°Or re-killed them, or whatever. That¡¯s why I heard all that screaming. But how vulnerable are they really? This calls for an experiment!¡± It took him longer than he expected to make a fire. Even with his flint it took some effort to make the sparks. The sparks he could make didn¡¯t catch on the clothes of the ghouls. He finally managed to light some dead grass on fire, move that fire to a stick, and poke one of the ghouls in the cheek with it. The fire didn¡¯t light immediately, but after two seconds it burst into flame, quick like toilet paper. It didn¡¯t spread, just burned away the piece of undead flesh that had touched the fire, then went out. These dudes were crazy vulnerable to fire. Carrying torches was actually really brave of them. If undead could even be brave. He didn¡¯t think they actually feared death, but again that was relying on fantasy video game lore, and this wasn¡¯t a video game. [Know What¡¯s Real] didn¡¯t let him forget it. The other neat thing was the weapons. He¡¯d been so focused on learning about the ghouls that he¡¯d also forgotten one of the staples of RPG worlds: the loot. They carried really sweet looking jagged swords and cool clawed hammers. They had all sorts of claws and hooks, looking like the elaborate fantasy weapons he¡¯d always dreamed about; or less flatteringly, they looked like the impractical mall-ninja stuff that hopeless nerds collected. But they couldn¡¯t be impractical, since actual real life monsters were carrying them. Sadly, he couldn¡¯t use them. Too heavy. But one of the ghouls had a perfect black knife that he instantly fell in love with. It was scary sharp; he carved straight through a ghoul¡¯s leg like it was made of paper. He still wasn¡¯t over the idea of making the dust explosion trap work, but he realized he should have done some testing rather than just assume it would work the first time tried. He tried tossing some sawdust in the air, and putting a flaming stick inside the dust cloud he made, but that did nothing. Maybe the sawdust was damp or maybe this really just wasn¡¯t as easy as he thought. He¡¯d never actually seen this happen in real life. After an hour or two of experimentation, he finally figured it out. Instead of trying different ways of adding fire to the sawdust, he lit a small fire on the floor and tossed the sawdust onto it. It made a really neat fireball that burned peach fuzz off his hands, but that was it. No concussive blast, non-lethal damage. Dangerous, but not that dangerous. Not dangerous enough to be a weapon against the undead. The regular fire from all the sawdust and shavings on the floor of the pitfall trap had been what killed them. He ate lunch, puttered around the rest of the day, and then went to his home base cellar to wait for the rescue the System had promised him was coming. He wondered what they would be like. Would they be adventurers? Knights in shining armor? An army of elves? He didn¡¯t have a lot of context for what would actually happen in the medieval world in history, mostly he knew what would happen in Fantasy novels or video games, and in that case it would definitely be adventurers. He tried to sleep, but for some reason he just couldn¡¯t get comfortable. The sun was still up, so that was probably the issue. It wasn''t that he was cold; with all the flour sack ¡°blankets¡± he had made, he was already sweating and had to take a couple off. Even without the blankets it wasn¡¯t really that cold. That was it. It wasn¡¯t cold. The enchantment on the cellar, whatever had been keeping it freezing cold, had worn off. The undead would see him now. He raced out of the room, scanning the streets in a panic. There weren¡¯t any undead yet. He ran from cellar to cellar, but they were all warm. Think. Would there be any reason that some other cellar might still be cold? He ran to the big house where he¡¯d found all the meat. It probably wasn¡¯t a house at all, more likely a butchery. Maybe that one? Its enchantment might be permanent, a way to keep the meat fresh, rather than an emergency thing the other cellars would¡¯ve used. It was dark outside. He¡¯d never seen this burned down town in the dark before; he¡¯d never cut it this close. He found the butcher shop cellar, and ran inside. It was cold, blessedly, uncomfortably, cold. It immediately stung the sweat streaming from his skin, but he¡¯d never been so happy to be so uncomfortable. He heard the faint steps of the undead army not long after, but none of them entered his cellar. The cold was still a problem. There wasn¡¯t anything to keep him warm, not even a flour sack. For the entire night, he paced back and forth as quietly as he could, rubbing his arms and legs to keep the frostbite away. Several times he thought about just running outside to escape the cold. He imagined darting through the lines of undead like a ghost, of being so quick they couldn¡¯t catch him, and escaping into the forest. That was suicide, he knew. These monsters had conquered a whole village full of adults with levels. They wouldn¡¯t have any trouble catching one dumb, skinny little kid. He was so wrapped up in his misery, that he missed it when the undead army left. When he finally noticed they were gone, there was already sunlight peeking through the crack in the cellar doors. He burst outside, and it felt like running into a warm hug. He lay on the grass, reveling in the feeling of life returning to his numb fingers and toes and immediately fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was already beginning to set. He had just enough time to sprint to his old cellar and grab all the flour sacks he¡¯d used as blankets before hiding in the butcher shop cellar again. Even with the flour sacks, it was still cold. This cellar was colder than the others had been. Which was a good thing for his survival, but a bad thing for his sanity. He fell into a fitful sleep, waking several times to check his fingers and toes for frostbite. How long until someone came to rescue him? The problem was, he had no timetable. With the way travel would be in this low-technology world, it could still be months away, and that was only if his rescuers succeeded. They could fail, or give up. He had no idea what a Quest entailed, and had no way of knowing if it would entice someone to come all this way to rescue one no-name child. He decided to strike out one more time. Last time hadn¡¯t gone well, but he had a few advantages this time. He had better weapons now. But most of all, he was less naive. He packed up his things, and set off. Not towards where the undead came from, and not towards the giant spiders, either. To the east. He didn¡¯t even get as far as his first try. As soon as he stepped foot in the edge of the forest, a notification appeared.
Warning!
Leaving this zone will cancel the Quest that has been applied on your behalf. All rewards will be forfeited. Just a little longer, Mark! They¡¯re almost there.
He was starting to think there were three separate voices coming through the System messages. The first was the standard, automatic System messages. Then sometimes he¡¯d get verbose, scriptural messages, maybe from the goddess Solia? Then there was one other, more casual voice. He would have to figure it out for sure when this was all over, if only to thank the ones responsible for helping him. He was ashamed to admit it, but the strongest emotion right now was relief. He really hadn¡¯t wanted to go into the forest. All he had to do was hang tight. He could do that. The thought that people would be coming soon gave him mixed emotions. He was desperate for human contact. Those first couple weeks alone had probably been good for him as he adjusted to his new reality, but now he was hungry for the sound of another human voice. At the same time, he was a little nervous. He¡¯d never met anyone from this world, he had no idea what their cultural expectations were.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And¡­ he looked down at himself. He was disgusting. How had he never thought to bathe a single time since he¡¯d come here? He stank, a little. But if you can smell yourself a little, other people can smell you a lot. He needed a bath. He pulled up several bucket-fulls of water from the well, and emptied them into a basin. He stripped right there in the middle of town; it¡¯s not like anyone could see him. It actually disturbed him how it felt to take the dirty, disgusting clothes off himself. The oily fabric stuck to his skin, pulling on all the tiny hairs that had started to grow through. He threw the clothes in a pile, and using a flour-sack-turned-washcloth, he scrubbed furiously. He hadn¡¯t found any soap, sadly, but just water and scrubbing would take care of the worst of it. After his body, he moved onto the clothes, dunking them in the water and wringing them out, scraping them with the dull side of his knife, and basically putting them through the wringer. They faded several shades of brown as the accumulated grime of more than two weeks was worked away. He felt better as he put his damp clothes back on. It felt nice to be somewhat clean. Somehow his mind felt clearer, his circumstances less dire. All he had to do was wait a few days, but honestly, he wanted to do more than that. The System hadn¡¯t given him experience points for killing the undead, but that wasn¡¯t a reason that he shouldn¡¯t do it. Thinning the herd a little might give his rescuers a better chance. Plus, the System had awarded him some attribute points for the exercise. Maybe he could get a few more. He found another cellar less well built than the rest, and started digging it out. This time he covered the floor with wood splinters, but didn¡¯t bother making sawdust. Instead he covered the wood with dead grass, stuff that would burn hot and quick. Just a few seconds should be enough to kill any ghouls that fell down here. It only took him two days this time. When he got done, he went into the meat cellar, and waited. To his intense satisfaction, his new trap worked only an hour or so after dark. Same as the first time, he first heard the sounds of unholy screams, then screams of alarm taken up by the whole army. It was music to his ears. Perfect. This told him something important: Undead were really, really dumb. Or, maybe not dumb since they had done the whole fire illusion thing, but they weren¡¯t great at learning. This trick had worked twice now, so it would probably work indefinitely.
Alert!
You have defeated:
Undead Warrior of the Flaming Horde [23]
Due to level disparity extra experience will be rewarded.
Alert!
You have defeated:
Undead Soldier of the Flaming Horde [24]
Due to level disparity extra experience will be rewarded.
Alert!
Your System is currently locked. Experience confiscated.
For your feat of valor, you have been awarded the following.
Mental Control +1
He didn¡¯t know what Mental Control did, but it was better than nothing. He was almost sad when the alarms died down and the undead army went back to its silent, trodding routine. After so long alone, even the sound of undead screams served to give him some of that human contact he¡¯d been craving. After that, he was too excited to sleep. But warm in his little nest, he felt his eyelids growing heavy¡­ His eyes snapped open, still some time before dawn. Warm. He was warm. He threw off his makeshift blankets, and yes, the air was still somewhat chilly. Definitely warmer than it had been that first night, but much colder than should be natural, given how warm the days were. Or was it? He hadn¡¯t exactly been outside during the night time, how did he know how cold it got? Either way, there wasn¡¯t anything he could do. He stayed in the meat cellar until dawn. The undead didn¡¯t find him, but when the morning sun warmed up the earth, the cellar warmed up with it. Whatever magic had been protecting this place was gone.
He¡¯d had half the night to think of a plan, but he didn¡¯t come up with much. He didn¡¯t have much to work with. He¡¯d have to hide, and he¡¯d have to create a distraction. As soon as the undead disappeared, he burst into furious action. For the distraction, he would create a bonfire. He gathered every single piece of unburned wood he¡¯d found in the entire town, and put it all into a huge pile, planning on making the biggest bonfire he¡¯d ever seen. It was hard, sweaty work, but the raw, constant fear for what would happen come nightfall gave energy to his steps. In two hours he had it all together, piled up a foot taller than he was. Still not enough. Where could he get more wood? The forest was an obvious answer, but he didn¡¯t have time to chop down a tree; even chopping down a small tree was much harder than most people thought. He might be able to find a dead one, though. In unmanaged forests trees fell over all the time and just rotted on the ground. He decided to give it a shot. Surprisingly, no System messages tried to stop him at the edge of the forest. Could the System read his intentions, that he didn¡¯t actually plan on leaving? It was unnerving to know that it could just pull things from his mind, but he had more immediate problems right now. Not far into the dark forest, he found the perfect specimen. An old, gray tree, dead but still at least thirty feet tall. One thing he¡¯d learned in the boy scouts was that even though cutting down a tree was hard, pushing an old dead one down was possible. He pushed, and it swayed very slightly, but that was enough. He pushed to a rhythm, rocking it back and forth, back and forth, until it started swinging more and more. Finally, with loud crackles and snaps the great thing fell over. He grabbed it by the roots, intending to pull it towards town, and heaved with all the strength his preadolescent body could muster. It didn¡¯t budge. He would never be able to drag this thing anywhere. This was a waste of time. Maybe he could cut off some of the branches to bring to his bonfire, but that was the best he could hope for. Lots of the branches had broken off in the fall, big ones too, and he was able to drag those without trouble. He ran back and forth, dragging the big branches first, then carrying bundles of smaller ones. He worked for four hours, until his bonfire was twice the size as it was before. The best part was, he wouldn¡¯t even have to bother lighting it. The ghouls would do it for him. He covered the area around the bonfire with mounds and mounds of dead grass. It was probably too much to ask for that the undead would get caught up in a fire they themselves started, but it was the best he could do in the short time. Two hours before dusk, he started on his hiding spot. First, he found every loose stone, cooking pot, or big lump of anything, and used it to barricade the door to a cellar. He barricaded it shut, with him on the outside. Another distraction; it wouldn¡¯t last. Anything he could carry, the ghouls could move out of the way even faster. The way they easily carried those huge, hulking black weapons told him they were much stronger than him. One hour left, he started his real hiding spot. He dug a hole in a grassy part of a field outside of town. He was careful to remove the grass whole, with dirt and roots still intact, putting it on his biggest flour sack blanket. Then he dug a child-sized hole underneath. The crows were nearby watching him work. ¡°Don¡¯t give me away!¡± he hissed at them. He climbed inside his dugout, and pulled his sod-covered blanket over him. He left a tiny hole for air, but otherwise it buried him completely, underneath a foot or so of dirt and grass. The cool, living vegetation should work to disguise his body heat. The dirt on top of him was heavy, almost crushing, but that was sort of comforting. He¡¯d have to stay awake, though. He was scared that this much pressure on his chest would suffocate him if he fell asleep. His air hole also worked as a peephole, so he watched in dread as the sun went down and the light of the illusory flames approached the town. The army approached the town as usual, silently. He couldn¡¯t see far, but when they got to the bonfire they didn¡¯t step on the dead grass surrounding it. One of them cautiously leaned down and lit the edge of the grass. It caught quickly, and soon all the grass was set ablaze, lasting for only half a minute before burning out. That was enough to catch the real bonfire, and it started slowly, burning dimly until all at once enough of the wood caught and it sprang into a life, a huge, hungry flame whose heat he could feel several dozen yards away. It wasn¡¯t enough to kill the ghouls, who kept a cautious distance. They watched it, mesmerized. He expected them to turn away, to go back to their usual solemn patrols, but they stayed, watching the flame. He found his eyes also moving away from the abominable undead with their fake fire to the real, transcendent flame in the center of the street. The fire burned hot, going dozens of feet into the air, twisting and spiraling. A small pack of undead noticed the barricaded cellar, his other distraction. They lit it on fire and then turned away to watch the larger bonfire. Oh well. He hadn¡¯t had high hopes for that distraction anyway, and they were more than distracted enough by the bonfire. He almost felt a sort of kinship with the undead. They were so foreign and alien in thought and manner, but they, like him, could be completely entranced by the shifting flame. One of them turned, and faced him. The illusory flames in his near-empty eye sockets seemed to glow with recognition. Mark sunk down, letting the grass above him cut off his peephole. He trembled. From fear, and from exhaustion. His limbs were aching, sore from the day of furious labor. He wanted to stop, to stay still, but he couldn¡¯t. He hated it. He hated being so afraid, so helpless. Raw terror and fury at his circumstances churned and mixed in him, building each other up. Twin flames that fed and built each other, like the bonfire outside. He swore to himself; if he survived this he would never be this helpless ever again. Whether it was rage or fear or sheer curiosity, he just had to know: Had the ghoul spotted him? He raised the dirt back up until he could see through again. The ghoul was still staring in his direction. It took a step forward. A few others turned to see what it was looking at. An explosion of ice erupted right in the center of the undead army, and suddenly all attention shifted away from him, towards four figures striding down the street. The figures wore shining armor, carried glowing weapons, and walked confidently towards the army of undead, as if there was no doubt in their minds how this battle would go. Adventurers. Heroes. His rescuers had arrived. Book 1 - Chapter 5 He waited for [Know What¡¯s Real] to complain, to tell him he¡¯d gotten his hopes up for nothing, or that there was some trick. But it didn¡¯t. They were real people. They were really here. In the front stood a tall man covered head to toe in golden armor that exuded a warm and comforting glow. He carried a tower shield that matched his armor, prominently engraved with a downward half circle, a closed eye maybe. The closed eye symbol was repeated in several places on the artful engravings on his armor, always under a green gemstone that burned with inner light. Mark¡¯s [Know What¡¯s Real] Skill didn¡¯t object to the glow; somehow it was real. The Knight, as Mark was going to call him, also carried an intimidating mace. It looked to be at least twenty pounds, but he carried it like it was light as a feather. The Knight dashed forwards, every step covering a dozen feet, and crashed into the army, flinging the monsters left and right, crushing them with blurring blows faster than Mark could track. Next, the Rogue. He was a man in darker armor, black leathers with a few plates of dull steel where it wouldn¡¯t impede his movements. He followed behind the Knight, taking care of stragglers. Somehow he was faster than the Knight, dealing ten or twenty swift cuts with his dual shortswords in the time it would take Mark to blink an eye. He darted around wildly, sometimes disappearing when three or four ghouls surrounded him, only to reappear while decapitating one of the ghouls from behind. His shortswords weren¡¯t exactly ideal for fighting ghouls, but he managed by simply dicing them to pieces. Staying behind was the Ranger. He was an imposing figure, at least six foot seven, and he watched the battle with calm dispassion. He wore all leather armor and carried an enormous longbow, as tall as he was. Despite what must be a ridiculous pull weight, the Ranger loosed arrow after arrow, each of which plunged straight through any ghouls they reached, sometimes through six or seven in a row. Not to say the ghouls didn¡¯t fight back. They were quick, like blinking shadows, and strong; the times they managed to block the strikes of the Knight made vibrations that Mark felt through the earth, and left his ears ringing. Their ferocity combined with the illusion of fire around them made them seem like a thing of nightmares. He was suddenly very thankful that he hadn¡¯t entertained the idea of grabbing a torch and trying to fight them off himself. Despite the valor of the Heroes, it¡¯s possible that the army would¡¯ve overwhelmed them, if not for the last member of the group. The Wizard. She wore robes of red, belted above her waist. Her wavy golden hair poured like honey out from under a wide-brimmed hat. She held an orb in one hand, a staff in the other, and shouted words of power that called down missiles of ice and explosions of freezing rain. Despite the fact the undead had no weakness to cold at all, the sheer force of her spells left dozens of undead slowed or dazed, enough to buy her teammates the space they needed. The fight raged back and forth; the ghouls were thinned by the second, but not as quickly as they could be. They started to spread out so that each of the Wizard¡¯s spells never hit more than three of them at a time. He was confident that the Heroes would win, but at this rate it would take hours, and that was only if they didn¡¯t falter. One mistake, one slip up, and¡­ he had to do something. Mark jumped out of his hiding spot and ran, not towards the fighting, but away and around the back towards the Wizard. ¡°Fire! Use fire!¡± They didn¡¯t hear him. Or if they did, they didn¡¯t react. The sound of fighting was loud enough, and his young voice didn¡¯t have anything to help make it louder. He¡¯d have to get closer. The Rogue disappeared from the battle, and seconds later, reappeared right in front of Mark. He was older than Mark was expecting, maybe in his fifties. He had strong features, a wide face covered in scars. Without a word, he grabbed Mark and tossed him over his shoulder, carrying him back to the others. His strong steps carried them ten times as fast as Mark¡¯s legs would have. A ghoul ambushed them, jumping from the shadows, but the Rogue cut it down without slowing. He carried him over and dropped him next to the Wizard and the Ranger. ¡°This is the boy. We should think about pulling back.¡± ¡°Good!¡± The Ranger smiled warmly, but didn¡¯t stop his arrows or take his eyes off the battle. ¡°Well done, surviving this long, boy. We know it couldn¡¯t have been easy for you, but rest assured, you are safe now.¡± The Wizard didn¡¯t look at him or pause her incantations. ¡°Fire!¡± he gasped out. ¡°We know,¡± said the Rogue. ¡°No! Use fire! They''re weak against fire!¡± ¡°What are you, some kind of stupid?¡± asked the Rogue. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching them for three weeks! Please, just trust me,¡± said Mark. The Wizard looked concerned, but paused her larger spells to flick her wrist with a single word of incantation. A flaming dart flew from her hands, and completely eviscerated the unlucky ghoul that it struck. She smiled, then her voice grew louder. She lifted her staff high, and chanted in a language that hurt Mark¡¯s ears, seeming to speak with three voices at one. ¡°Back up! Get back, Galan,¡± shouted the Rogue. In an admirable show of trust, the Knight, who must be Galan, turned and ran without hesitation. Right as he reached the rest of them, he turned and planted his tower shield against the ground, bracing himself against it. Behind him, the entire army erupted into hell. Winds of flame sucked in from all directions, then a tornado of fire erupted from the ground, then a second one arose. Dual twisters danced around each other and blew through the army, burning them to ash, leaving nothing but their black metal weapons to fall to the ground. All the while, the Knight held his position, protecting them from the blazing heat and chunks of bone that flew like shrapnel. His shield seemed to create a magical barrier, a cone that enfolded the others of the group. Mark could see the line between the protected area, and the black scorched earth. The spell expended its energy and then drifted away, leaving black and empty ground. Even the ash seemed to have been burnt away. The Ranger said something, but Mark was still too stunned from the display of magical destruction to pay attention. He looked at the Wizard. She was gasping for breath, leaning on her staff, looking like she was about to pass out. The Ranger repeated himself. ¡°Someone should take care of the stragglers.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got a bow,¡± said the Rogue. ¡°Arrows aren¡¯t free. It would be a waste.¡± ¡°I¡­ I can do it,¡± said Galan, the Knight. He was also gasping for breath, looking as worn out as the Wizard. The Rogue spat on the ground. ¡°Fine. But you owe me.¡± [Know What''s Real] was telling Mark that something was off about the Rogue. Before he could figure out what, the dark-clad man blinked away, appearing two dozen yards in the distance, cutting a remaining undead soldier in half. The other scattered undead converged on him, but there weren¡¯t enough remaining to be a threat. He terminated them with mechanical precision. Mark watched in awe. It was difficult to believe that a real living person could move like that. And honestly, just going off kill-count, the Rogue was the least of these companions. Imagine being as strong as the Knight, or launching arrows that landed like artillery the way the Ranger could, or calling down army-demolishing airstrikes like the Wizard. Could he become a Wizard someday? Watching the Rogue, [Know What¡¯s Real] was giving him mixed feedback. Sometimes he was real, and sometimes he wasn¡¯t? Or maybe he had some kind of illusory effect? It made sense that the quick, sneaky one would be more than meets the eye. He realized the Heroes weren¡¯t watching the Rogue like he was. Their eyes were on him. Right, he had a role here, too, didn¡¯t he? He wasn¡¯t a hero. He was the lowly, grateful NPC, and it was time to start acting like it. ¡°Oh! Um. Great Heroes! Thank you so much for rescuing me. If you had arrived even a minute later I surely would have perished. Thank you for cleansing Travin¡¯s Bog. Though my friends and family are all dead, I think their souls will rest easier knowing that their erstwhile home is free from those disgusting creatures.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. It didn¡¯t have quite the effect he would¡¯ve liked. Galan frowned. The Wizard put a hand to her mouth. The Ranger looked like he was about to laugh. ¡°What? What¡¯s with that?¡± said the Rogue. Mark hadn¡¯t even seen him return. ¡°What¡¯s he saying Lurilan?¡± The Ranger, who must be Lurilan, responded. ¡°Can¡¯t you see?¡± Nothing to do but trudge on. Mark continued, ¡°I don¡¯t have much to reward you with, but I searched the ashes of the town for any valuables. All the coin is yours¨C¡± ¡°We don¡¯t want your money, kid. Sheesh. What¡¯s your game here?¡± said the Rogue. ¡°Sorry,¡± said Mark, looking down. All the ash in the air was making his eyes water. He sniffed, to avoid a runny nose. ¡°Sorry if I¡¯m doing it wrong. I¡¯ve never been rescued before. This is what they say in the stories.¡± The Heroes all made eye contact with each other in collective understanding. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s¨C¡± the Rogue had an uncharacteristic look of sheepishness on his harsh features. The Wizard shoved past him, and crouched down to be at eye level with Mark. ¡°You¡¯re doing fine. There¡¯s nothing you can do wrong. We¡¯re here to rescue you, remember? Now, why don¡¯t we start this correctly? I am Lumina, [Magus of the Southern Steppe].¡± He could practically hear the brackets over the last part. Something about the inflection in their language made it clear they were quoting their System-given Class. She continued introductions. ¡°That¡¯s Galan, this is Lurilan, and the grumpy one is Hogg. Now, what¡¯s your name?¡± Wasn¡¯t that a question? The System called him ¡°Mark Error¡±, and honestly he didn¡¯t hate it. It felt right to leave his last name in his last life. He told them his name. But he made a mistake. He had automatically started translating his thoughts into Frenerian, because that¡¯s what they had spoken in, but he unthinkingly translated his name as well. Mark Error came out as Brin isu Yambul. Since the languages didn¡¯t match up very well, what he actually said was something like ¡°Scar, the Mistaken.¡± He actually liked the ¡°mistaken¡± part. Going back to English, ¡°mistaken¡± sounded like ¡°wrongfully taken¡±, which was definitely true. And Brin, well he felt scarred, too. The name settled onto him like a mantle. ¡°Cut that trash. What¡¯s your real name?¡± said Hogg. ¡°It¡¯s um.. That¡¯s¨C¡± Lurilan tried a gentler approach. ¡°Did you make up a name that you thought sounded grand? It¡¯s a nice name. Very fierce.¡± ¡°Fierce?¡± said Hogg. ¡°Burn that. He saw a huge scar on his face and decided to start calling himself Scar. But that looks, what, three weeks old? What did your mother call you before she¨C¡± Hogg realized what he was saying and stopped, but too late to prevent a kick from Lumina. She full on front kicked him straight in the balls. [Know What¡¯s Real] flickered a bit, but it must¡¯ve connected because Hogg went down like a sack of potatoes. ¡°Never mind him,¡± Lumina said gently. ¡°We¡¯ll call you Brin if you want, but I¡¯d like to know: did you make it up?¡± ¡°Yes. Kind of,¡± said Brin. He¡¯d thought a little about what he¡¯d say to people he met, and he¡¯d decided not to broadcast to everyone that he was an Otherworlder. That meant amnesia would be his best excuse. He felt bad lying to Lumina, she seemed nice, so he decided to¡­ bend the truth instead. ¡°I woke up with this scar on my head three weeks ago. I don¡¯t remember anyone or anything about my life in this village before that.¡± Galan nodded thoughtfully. He was much younger than Hogg, maybe twenty-five, but spoke slowly and deliberately. ¡°Now this all begins to make sense.¡± ¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°Not at all,¡± said Galan. ¡°Have you ever heard of an heirloom artifact?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± said Lumina, while Lurilan said, ¡°A what?¡± Lumina said, ¡°An Heirloom Artifact. An [Enchantress] can make a unique artifact on the day of her child¡¯s birth. The child has to carry it at all times, so a necklace or bracelet or the like. And she must maintain it every single day, so her child can never be far from her, which is why you may not have heard of it. No adventurer could possibly carry one. But the benefits are extreme: It will protect the child from a grievous wound, even a mortal wound, just once.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Galan. ¡°It would explain how he survived, why he¡¯s alone, even perhaps why the gods thought it appropriate to intervene.¡± ¡°It would explain too much,¡± Hogg wheezed through the pain, still on the ground. ¡°Is that what happened? Did you have an heirloom artifact?¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°Well, that¡¯s fine,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t answer the question of your name. What does the System call you?¡± Brin checked his status. It had changed from ¡°Mark !Error!¡± to the translated version. ¡°Brin isu Yambul. Wait, is that my fault? I didn¡¯t know it was going to be permanent!¡± Hogg wheezed with laughter, even through the obvious pain. ¡°That¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡± Galan looked at Lumina and asked. ¡°Is that true? Is it permanent? Or can a man change his name simply by changing what everyone calls him?¡± Lumina¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I¡¯ve never heard of someone forgetting their own name before! Brin, don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll get this figured out.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t mind it,¡± said Brin. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t, now,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Wait until you¡¯re thirty. Better yet, wait until you want to get married. Oh, even better, wait until the thousandth time someone says to you, ¡®Excuse me, but I believe you are Mistaken.¡¯¡± Lurilan and Galan laughed at that, and even Lumina smiled though she said, ¡°Stop it!¡± Brin laughed along. ¡°Oh, how about, ¡®Ouch, that¡¯s going to leave a mark.¡¯¡± All four burst into laughter. He wasn¡¯t sure if the idiom actually translated that well, or if it was just pity-laughter, but he was glad for it all the same. ¡°Alright, kid. Let¡¯s get out of the street here. I¡¯m hungry and all this dust and smoke is going to give me lung disease,¡± said Hogg. ¡°We¡¯ll set up camp in the fields. It¡¯ll make keeping watch easier tonight.¡± They walked through the fields, and set up camp right next to the road heading south. Even though it was still the middle of the night, no one seemed ready for sleep, so the men gathered wood for a campfire. Brin wanted to help, but he¡¯d used all his wood in the bonfire earlier. Galan provided the starter, and used hot-burning wood from an oversized backpack he¡¯d left at the edge of the forest. Lumina watched Brin carefully before and after casting the spell that ignited the fire, no doubt watching for signs of trauma. It was possible that the boy who used to own this body had watched his parents burn to death, but Brin was being honest when he said he had no memory of that. He scooched up close. It was strange but welcome to be safe and warm at night. ¡°Who¡¯s hungry for hard-tack?¡± asked Hogg, before handing out thick, rock hard slices of bread that looked like big crackers. They tasted and felt like chewing rocks, and even Hogg who dealt them out didn¡¯t look like he was enjoying it. ¡°There¡¯s meat,¡± said Brin. ¡°There¡¯s food in the town; the cellars didn¡¯t burn. I found what must¡¯ve been a butcher¡¯s shop, in a big cellar on the other end of town from where you¡­ oh, he¡¯s already gone.¡± Hogg had disappeared even before Brin had finished speaking. He returned three minutes later, arms heaping with various cuts and sausages. ¡°Glad I got to this in time. Someone tracked mud all over the cooling runes,¡± Hogg said with a scowl, pointedly not looking at Brin. Cooling runes? He¡¯d spent days in the cellar and never seen anything like that. How was he supposed to know you¡¯re not supposed to track mud in? They had dirt floors. It also bothered him that [Know What¡¯s Real] didn¡¯t show him the hidden runes. Apparently, it wouldn¡¯t show him things that were invisible, just tell him when something he could see was phony. Hogg brightened, looking again at the meat he carried. ¡°Anyway. It¡¯s fixed now. The steaks are for tonight; the sausages will keep. Come on then, get a pan out, let¡¯s get some real food on!¡± Galan hustled to comply. The armored man talked slow, but moved fast. Soon the pleasant scent of simmering steak filled the campsite. Lumina picked up the conversation. ¡°So, Galan, I meant to ask: you mentioned that you¡¯re a Knight from Olland?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Galan. ¡°I¡¯m a member of the Order of the Long Sleep. [Untiring Knight] is my Class, though I can sleep and often do.¡± ¡°I am a [Hunter] from Gilly, though my intended quarry was the Stone Drake, this detour was a delightful surprise,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°[Warrior],¡± said Hogg. ¡°From Hammon¡¯s Bog. It¡¯s nearby.¡± There was a strange variance in Class names. Lumina had the most complicated Class name, [Magus of the Southern Steppe]. Longer Class names probably meant they were more powerful, compared to Lurilan¡¯s [Hunter] or Hogg¡¯s [Warrior]. Although, that last one sounded like a lie, to be honest. ¡°Wait,¡± said Brin. ¡°You guys don¡¯t all know each other?¡± ¡°Not at all, though I think we¡¯ve all heard of Lumina,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°No, how much do you know about how System Quests work?¡± ¡°Not much,¡± admitted Brin. ¡°It went like this,¡± said Lumina. ¡°I received the notification that I had been selected to fulfill a Quest, and immediately leapt from my bed, dressed, packed those of my things that could quickly be thrown into a rucksack, and set off, with nary a word to my master, though I have no doubt that he will understand. The Quest mentioned Travin¡¯s Bog, and a quick scry informed me of the location. I traveled horseback for the first day, and met Lurilan and Galan on the way. I learned their names of course, and we chatted a bit, though we hardly grew acquainted. When Hogg joined us, that was about the time that the System urged us to haste. We abandoned the horses, and I employed my magic to speed our way. That¡¯s why I was so nearly exhausted when we finally caught up to you.¡± She hadn¡¯t seemed exhausted, and it made the whole thing more impressive that they¡¯d fought that fiercely at the end of a days-long sprint. Even now, none of them seemed that tired. They seemed to be settling in for a long conversation, and if they really didn¡¯t know each other, this was probably a great networking opportunity for them. For his part, Brin was at the bare edge of his endurance. He had barely slept at all the night before, and then spent the entire day in hard labor, working harder than he ever had in his previous life. He felt his eyelids drooping. ¡°I¡¯ve always been curious about the Order of the Long Sleep,¡± said Lumina. ¡°Although I wouldn¡¯t press you to reveal the secrets of your Order.¡± ¡°Oh, not at all,¡± said Galan. ¡°My order is reclusive by habit, but not secretive.¡± ¡°Is it true you were formed after the war of Iaghaid, the Quiet?¡± ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± said Galan. ¡°It was thought in those days¨Cthis was the time of High Lord Endelet, who ruled over Hemelor, Olland, and Theranor, in what was then called Edelor. After Iaghaid was defeated, there were those who thought that the dragon may have survived and was only sleeping. Endelet called his council together in the city of Hemelor, in what was then called the Council of Hemelor to¡­¡± Brin really would have liked to hear the rest of the story, but despite his best efforts, Galan¡¯s calm voice soothed him into sleep. Book 3 - Chapter 51 Brin woke up early. So early it was probably still late for some people. The middle of the night. Whatever the case, the fact was that he was awake and he couldn¡¯t get back to sleep, not now. Not with what they planned to do today. He got up, nodded to the guards keeping watch, and went over to sit near the bonfire, which only had a few smoking coals left. For once, the anxiety burning a hole in his stomach didn''t have anything to do with Aberfa. Well, it was only indirectly related to Aberfa. No, it was about the [Witch]. No matter how confident Hogg acted, taking down a [Witch] was never a simple matter, and Brin was expected to kill her familiar. Without any idea of what it was, he couldn''t prepare. Hogg hadn''t dared to send his Visible Eyes close, and he''d asked Brin not to send his Invisible Eyes, certain that there would be wards to detect illusion. There had to be something he could do to prepare. He felt like it was the morning of an exam he hadn''t studied for. Hard to believe he used to get stressed out about that sort of thing. No one would''ve died if Mark had failed a class and had to repeat a year, but it sure had felt like it, and that''s what it felt like now. He decided to run through his Self-Invisibility spell again. These past months he''d spent a lot of time going over his spells and paring down the amount of words of Language he needed to cast them. Lots of words could be combined or omitted by imbuing the words around them with more complexity of understanding and intent. Then it was just a matter of re-recording the faster version. Self-Invisibility was still his slowest spell. It took him more than two minutes to cast it, which would never work in a combat scenario. He ran through the spell, not using the stored memory, but actually reading it out. He also didn''t use [Directed Meditation]. In retrospect, [Directed Meditation] was probably his favorite Skill. If he had to return to his old life with only one Skill it would be difficult to take anything else. Old Mark had been plagued with distractability and lack of focus. Some days if the problem was fun or interesting enough, he could sit for twelve hours and never glance away, but more often it was endless procrastination and avoidance. He''d go entire days staring at his computer screen, wanting to get started but not being able to force himself to do it. [Directed Meditation] changed all that. It gave him complete focus, every time. But there were downsides. The inability to notice anything else, even if he was on fire, was a big one. Another thing he noticed was that it made it easier to focus, but it also prevented all the odd random thoughts that led to innovation and creativity. He¡¯d execute the task he¡¯d set out for, but nothing else. So rather than use his favorite Skill, Brin cast his spell the hard way. When it was done, he felt the spell come together, but didn''t activate it. He didn''t want one of the guards to see him disappear out of the corner of their eye. He let it dissipate. He thought he could see one or two places that might be improved, but what was the point? Shaving one or two seconds off its speed wouldn''t change the outcome today. He didn''t know what time it was; three hours after midnight, maybe. Four more hours and the day would start. Was there anything he could do with that amount of time that would make a difference? Logic and reason said no, but logic and reason hadn''t gotten Mark through his Computer Science degree. Cramming at the last second before the deadline had. There was something he could do. There had to be. It was strange, though. He didn''t think about his old life that often lately. One reason was because it had been so different. He''d had a different skill set for a different set of problems. The other reason was because of Aberfa, because he was calling himself her son. When you told a lie often enough, you naturally started to think it was true. He needed to remember the truth. He was Brin, he was also still Mark, and he would never be Aberthol. In his own mind, he needed to remember that. How would Mark solve this? Well, he would do the same thing that Brin was doing and wait until he got [Split Focus]. From Hogg''s description of the Skill, it would give him the equivalent of additional processors that would let him do some real multitasking. [Persistent Casting] would do much the same thing. He would cast a spell the way he did now, but then [Persistent Casting] would take over and keep it running with very little Mana cost and virtually no concentration. Two roads to the same destination. He wondered idly if his practice with multithreading would come in handy when he had that. Multithreading had been a hurdle in Brin''s first job, because it was something that hadn''t been covered very well in his degree, but it was all about how to run different tasks at the same time by sending them off to different processors. Well, no, now that he thought of it, it was also about assigning work with just one processor. The computer would only seem like it was thinking of seventy things at once because it was switching between seventy different threads at lightning speed. The problem here was context switching. If someone ever interrupted him at work he¡¯d need at least ten minutes to remember what he was doing and get back on track. The human brain couldn''t instantly switch back and forth between different tasks like that. Could it? It occurred to him that he''d never actually tried. He¡¯d remembered limits from his old life and never wondered if they even still applied. Brin''s body was already capable of feats of Strength that would be impossible on Earth and Strength wasn''t his highest attribute. Mental Control was. Something like this would be impossible without complete focus, but he already had a solution for that. One step at a time. First he wanted to see if what he was thinking of was even possible. He cast Invisible Eye by tracing it from his stored memories. Once it was ready, he activated [Directed Meditation] with a new set of instructions for himself. He stopped concentrating on holding the spell together long enough to count to five as quickly as he could, and then snapped back to focus on the spell again. The spell was a bit wobbly, for lack of a better word, but he was able to stabilize it again and keep it going. He deactivated [Directed Meditation] just long enough to smile and make a silent cheer. There was something here. There was something he could do with this. He looked at the sky, trying to estimate how much time he had before anyone else woke up. Not long enough. He needed to figure out his limits. With [Directed Meditation] again, he alternated the amount of time he spent apart from his spell, starting at a second and moving up. He could get up to three seconds, but if he waited that long the spell would be almost completely broken and it would take another twenty seconds to get it back together again. Two seconds was the sweet spot. When he switched back to the spell it would only take a quick burst of effort to wrap it all up again. Next, he focused on how long he needed to stay with the spell each time he switched back, and found that a quarter of a second worked best. Longer was a waste of time, and shorter wouldn''t fully stabilize the spell. Even that much took Brin nearly an hour to figure out, because every time he let the spell fall apart he had to cast the entire thing again from scratch. By the end of the hour, though, he had a pretty good rhythm going. In just one hour, he now only needed one-ninth of his attention to keep Invisible Eye going. Last minute cramming was really something else. Now what could he actually do with it? His first test was with the Invisible Eye itself. He''d taken to using Invisible Eye without [Directed Meditation] so that he''d be able to actually think about what he was looking at. It was harder that way, but he''d thought it was the only way. Could he back out of [Directed Meditation] during his two seconds of free time? There was no way; when he''d first learned to meditate from Hogg he''d taken a half hour to get into the right headspace. But once again, he was placing limits on himself without actually testing it. When he tried it, he found it simple to switch back and forth between his regular thoughts and his directed ones. It was tricky to time the two seconds, but once he got the hang of it, it wasn¡¯t too bad.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Now he could actually think about the things he was seeing. He''d been able to do that before when he''d spied on the Baron, but that had given him a huge migraine. This was practically effortless. The sky was starting to show signs of morning. He was almost out of time. Quick, what else could he do? He kept the Invisible Eye up, and then slowly started walking around. The first couple cycles went well, but then while [Directed Meditation] was focused on sustaining his spell, his foot hit a rock and he fell. The noise drew some stares from upset caravaneers who were still trying to sleep. Brin winced in sympathy and went back to his rock. It was possible. He could do simple tasks while keeping one of his spells active. Mirror Image should be even easier, while Self-Invisibility would be much harder, but at this point it would just be a matter of how much time he had to split between the two activities. Could he do two spells at once? He opted for two Invisible Eyes, just to make sure no one would see it even if he activated one on accident. With [Directed Meditation], he quickly summoned the first Invisible Eye. Then he started cycling back and forth with another stream of thought and started another¡­ and failed. The second he pulled away from the newly forming spell to stabilize the first one, they both fell apart. He tried again, and got the same result. Well, this is what [Directed Meditation] was for. He could skip the part where he felt discouraged and just keep trying. An hour or two later, someone bumped him and broke him out of concentration. Morning had arrived and the day was already bright. People were moving around, and he could smell breakfast. Honestly, it was a wonder it had taken this long for someone to break him out of it. He must¡¯ve been doing [Directed Meditation] a lot lately, because nobody looked twice at the random teenager holding still as a statue and staring at nothing for hours at a time. He blinked, looking around in minor disorientation. He hadn¡¯t realized that much time had passed. Despite that, he was no closer to getting two Invisible Eyes working. Casting two spells at once was not something he¡¯d be able to use this new technique for.
[Directed Meditation] has leveled up! 24 ¡ú 27
Mental Control +1
After breakfast, the caravan didn¡¯t start walking. Even though he¡¯d been prepared for this, Brin felt like he was waking up from a dream. For the past two and a half months it had always been the same routine; wake up, eat breakfast, start walking. The only exception was when they stayed in the towns for a few days, but on the road they always kept moving. Today was different. They weren¡¯t near a town, but Brin also had a hard time calling this a wilderness. There were lots of trees around, but he didn¡¯t like calling it a forest. It was so different in kind from the Boglands forest that he wanted to classify it as an entirely different species. The trees were short and weak, not from disease and rot but because they didn¡¯t feel the need to compete for the clear water and abundant sunlight. There were no areas with deep, dark shadows and no monsters to lurk in them. Well, scratch that. There was at least one. ¡°We¡¯ll stay here for the day,¡± Zerif announced. His face looked relaxed and his tone was cheerful, but he dabbed with his handkerchief a bit harder than usual at a forehead that was a lot sweatier than usual. ¡°We¡¯ve been working hard and we¡¯re ahead of schedule. I think we could all use a break, so that¡¯s what we¡¯ll have. Yes, that¡¯s just the thing! A free day.¡± The children cheered in delight and a few adults smiled, but Brin saw more than a few people cast nervous glances at each other. He hadn¡¯t exactly telegraphed that today was the day they¡¯d be raiding a [Witch] hideout, but it was a close-knit group and word got around. ¡°Let¡¯s take a walk,¡± said Hogg, and Brin followed him out of the caravan. He brought his stout glass-headed spear, holding it casually and pretending to use it as a walking staff, but it drew more than a few eyes as he left the circle of wagons. Hogg absently plucked a tall piece of grass and chewed on the end as they walked. Once they were far enough out, he spit and said, ¡°We¡¯ll leave now. I¡¯ve been through this kind of operation, so I¡¯ll tell you how it¡¯s going to be. You can either agree to all of it or we can walk back to camp now and forget the entire thing. There¡¯s no shame in that option, by the way. No one will say a single word about it if that¡¯s what you choose. But if we¡¯re going to do this, we¡¯re going to do it right.¡± ¡°Ok.¡± That was all Brin could think to say. Hogg nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve probably been thinking about this ever since Aberfa first mentioned it, so you¡¯re probably expecting some big epic battle, but trust me, that¡¯s the absolute last thing we want. We¡¯re going to strike hard, and strike fast, and we aren¡¯t going to play fair and we aren¡¯t going to give them a chance to hit back.¡± Brin nodded. ¡°That makes sense.¡± Hogg looked a little surprised and met Brin¡¯s eyes for a long moment with a heavy stare. ¡°Good. Alright, then. We¡¯re already at a disadvantage because I don¡¯t dare get close. I can feel some sort of illusion magic going on in that cave, so even sending in your Invisible Eye might tip them off that we¡¯re coming. We aren¡¯t going to give them any time to prepare. I want them all dead before they even realize we¡¯re there.¡± ¡°Ok,¡± said Brin. Hogg continued, ¡°I asked a few people to join us. Pio, Jeffrey, and Araunya. I also talked to your friends and recommended they don¡¯t tag along but agreed to let them if they insisted. Zilly and Myra will be there, but not Davi. I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t confront him about why; it¡¯s his choice.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± said Brin. ¡°Good. If things go as we plan, I¡¯ll take out the [Witch] while you kill the familiar. No one else should even need to do anything at all, but everyone will be ready to step in if we see you struggling. Don¡¯t let it get to that point. Hit the familiar with your strongest attack right from the start.¡± Brin didn¡¯t say anything, but bit his lip in worry. ¡°What?¡± demanded Hogg. ¡°You said I can¡¯t argue with any part of this¡­¡± ¡°Just say it,¡± Hogg groaned. ¡°My strongest attack would be using the spear I have hidden in Lumina¡¯s ring. If I spend some time charging it with all the glass magic it can fit, and then propel it with my best words of Language it¡¯ll destroy almost anything. The first problem with that is that I don¡¯t know if the spear will survive, but more importantly, that¡¯s not what Aberfa wants.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I care what she wants. No, I am sure: I don¡¯t care what she wants,¡± said Hogg. ¡°In that case, you should just go off and take care of everything yourself. The point of this whole exercise is to gain her trust until she lets something slip, and to do that we¡¯ve got to play things her way. She doesn¡¯t just want me to beat the familiar, she¡¯s going to want me to beat it in a certain way. She¡¯ll want me to get a feel for it and then undo it with the Wyrd. That¡¯ll take a minute. It may even look like I¡¯m struggling.¡± Hogg chewed on that for a minute, considering it. ¡°Fine. Do it your way. But if you take too long, someone else will step in. I¡¯m not going to change what I told everyone else.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± said Brin. Hogg led him through the trees a distance until they reached a clearing with the others. To his surprise, he saw Davi there, looking grim and stone faced with the others. Araunya the [Camp Chef], Jeffrey the [Bard], and Pio the [Beast Master] stood chatting softly. The giant boar, Big Ron, lay in the grass taking a nap. Myra stood with folded arms looking nervous. Only Zilly seemed in a good mood, and she bounced on her heels in excitement. When Brin arrived, Marksi jumped down from Zilly''s shoulders and leapt into Brin''s arms. "You sure?" Hogg asked Davi. Davi nodded in reply. Brin wasn''t sure what had made Davi initially say no, and he couldn''t guess why his friend had changed his mind. The only thing he could think of was that Davi really did know that his mom was a [Witch] after all. He had to know, right? If not, then Brin would feel terrible for keeping it from him. His study of the Wyrd had made it clear to him that he owed a lot more to Davi than he did to Bruna. "This way," said Hogg, and the group left with him. The walk was pleasant, if a little awkward. Everyone seemed to be in their own heads, preparing for battle. The old [Camp Chef] didn¡¯t carry any kind of weapons, but had a backpack on her back. Brin honestly didn¡¯t know what her role would be, but didn¡¯t want to pierce the silence and ask. Better to leave everyone to their reflection. Despite the somber mood, the weather was beautiful. The day was nice and cool and the morning air was fresh and clean. The sun was shining, the grass was green, but no birds chirped in the trees. There were no buzzing insects. They¡¯d be facing undead, then. All too soon Hogg called a halt to the party. ¡°There. You can just see it through the trees.¡± He spoke in a low whisper, barely perceptible over the sound of the breeze, and if Brin knew Hogg at all then he knew he was masking all sound to anyone outside their group. Brin peered through the trees and saw something. Maybe at night it would be otherworldly and bright but now it was nothing more than a faint glimmer, barely perceptible in the full daylight. A lightbulb with no bulb, almost a mirage. [Inspect] called it a Wisp, and gave no further information. ¡°And the cave entrance is over there,¡± said Hogg. ¡°I think it¡¯s trying to lead us away. We¡¯ll split into two groups and¡­ Ah! Sezorat¡¯s blood-drenched mirrors!¡± ¡°What?¡± Brin looked around for the source of Hogg¡¯s distress. ¡°It¡¯s Zilly. She¡¯s gone.¡± Brin counted the group again, and Hogg was right. The whole group was there, minus one. Myra and Davi met his eyes, all three of them sharing the same emotion: equal parts irritation and worry. Out of all of them, Jeffrey seemed the most affected. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t see her slip away!¡± Pio growled, and his giant boar perked up at the sound and started to look serious. Pio said, ¡°Idiot girl. I will not wait to see how she means to screw this up. We have the plan. Two groups. We go now, yes?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Brin, take down the familiar. The rest of you come with me.¡± Book 3 - Chapter 55 Since it was still well before dawn, Brin and Hogg stepped away from the camp so that they could talk in private. Marksi had come too, and Hogg had picked him up and hugged him tight while stroking the spines along his back. ¡°Tentacles,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Got it. I think that¡¯s enough. It¡¯s got to be. I¡¯ll make it be enough.¡± ¡°What? Really? How could that possibly be enough?¡± said Brin. ¡°It just is. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Hogg hesitated for a moment, looking pained. ¡°What is it?¡± Brin asked. ¡°I think I need to go. I need to do something,¡± said Hogg. ¡°You¡¯re going to find her. Somehow me saying the word ¡®tentacles¡¯ means that you can find her. You¡¯re going to k-kill her.¡± For some reason he found it hard to say that last part. He¡¯d always known that this was how it would end. That was the point of all this, of ingratiating himself with her, of letting her close the distance between them with the Wyrd. They were going to kill her. He didn¡¯t want that. He wondered if there was a way to capture her. Surely she would be more useful alive. They still hadn¡¯t learned all they could about Arcaena from her, for one. They needed to capture her and interrogate her for the good of the kingdom. The worst part was, he knew where this feeling was coming from. It was because he¡¯d called her mother and sat at her feet and learned her lessons, submitting to her punishments and enjoying her rewards. It had bound him to her. Even knowing that¡¯s where it was coming from, he couldn¡¯t want her to die. ¡°Yes,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Yes, I am.¡± ¡°The mission isn¡¯t clear about whether I¡¯ll still get the reward if someone else kills her,¡± Brin said. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Marksi, maybe sensing his distress, opened one tired eye and stretched over to lick Brin¡¯s hand, then snuggled into Hogg again. ¡°How are you going to find her?¡± Maybe if he knew how Hogg was tracking her, he¡¯d be able to warn her in time. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that,¡± said Hogg. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I thought it would be me that finishes things. It doesn¡¯t feel right to let someone else carry this burden,¡± said Brin. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel right that I¡¯ve been letting you suffer night after night for months now. I¡¯m ending this. Don¡¯t bother trying to talk me out of it. She¡¯s got her hooks in you. Not sure you could agree with me even if you wanted to.¡± ¡°And I can¡¯t even come?¡± ¡°Blackcliff and the coast are two days away, at the caravan¡¯s speed. I can be there in a matter of hours. With luck, I¡¯ll be there and back before your next sleep. This has gone on long enough. One way or another, I¡¯m ending it.¡± ¡°And if you¡¯re not back before then? What should I do?¡± Hogg opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He looked down at Marksi, and the dragonling looked up at him with complete trust in his eyes. ¡°Burn Aberfa and burn her secrets. Keep the enchantments on and get a good night¡¯s rest. That¡¯s my opinion.¡± Brin nodded. ¡°Thanks.¡± Hogg sniffed, shook his head in irritation, and then turned his back. That was as much of a goodbye as Brin was going to get. Marksi, of course, got the red carpet treatment. ¡°Just keep an eye on Brin for me, ok? Be a good boy, now. That¡¯s it. I¡¯ll be back before you know it.¡± He gave Marksi a long, tight squeeze which the dragonling endured with patience and grace. ¡°Oh, wait!¡± Brin said in alarm. Hogg turned around, ¡°What?¡± ¡°Can you teach me how to make text that¡¯s only visible to me? Also, can you make my Invisible Eye project what it sees onto a map, preferably one that only I can see?¡± ¡°Well, sure. You just¡­¡± Brin waited. Hogg snapped his fingers, looking into space. ¡°It¡¯s what?¡± ¡°Well, shoot, I don¡¯t remember.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± Hogg scowled. ¡°I can¡¯t remember how to make something only the caster can see. There¡¯s a neat trick to it, but for the life of me I can¡¯t remember what the words are. In my defense, my Lightmind has been taking care of that for years.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you just read your Lightmind?¡± ¡°Do you even know what you¡¯re asking? Yes, but it¡¯s not that easy. It¡¯ll take a minute and I need to leave now. I can do the map thing, though. You want me to write it down?¡± ¡°Just say it, I¡¯ll remember it,¡± said Brin. Hogg spoke a few sentences of the Language. It all sounded contradictory and random, but the more esoteric Spells often did. Hogg returned to saying his goodbyes. Finally, he set Marksi down and stalked away into the darkness. Brin yawned, and returned to camp. He put the enchantments into place, and got a couple more hours of sleep. The next day was surprisingly normal. Everyone just started up with their regular daily routine. Packing up camp, making breakfast, feeding the animals, and talking about the weather. A few people asked him where Hogg had gone, and Brin told them the truth, that he¡¯d gone ahead of them towards Blackcliff. A few people asked him where they¡¯d gone yesterday, but he told them he wasn¡¯t supposed to talk about it. A few people noticed their new prisoner, but Zerif made it clear no one was to speak with her. Brin did anyway. About an hour after they started walking, he went to the luggage cart that had been once again transformed into the jail cart. Margald, the [Perfumist] they¡¯d captured at the Arcaenean safehouse, was awake and looking equal parts terrified and miserable. ¡°What will you do with me?¡± She spoke in Arcaenean. He¡¯d only learned a bit of it from Aberfa, but with the bonuses he got from [Traveler] he spoke it a lot more fluently than he should. ¡°You speak Frenaria?¡± he asked in the same language. She shook her head. ¡°Surprise. You¡­ ah, what is word? You look at us. You here to look at us,¡± said Brin. He was trying to think of the word for ¡®spy¡¯, but he¡¯d never learned it. ¡°Not me. I was a mere servant in the household. It was better that I couldn¡¯t speak to the people here, so that I wouldn¡¯t be tempted to flee,¡± she answered. ¡°Who serve?¡± ¡°I won¡¯t tell you that. What will you do with me?¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°Take to Blackcliff. They¡­ ask you questions there. The king people.¡± ¡°Torture?¡± she asked. He didn¡¯t know that word, but he could infer the meaning. ¡°No. No torture. Ask. Ask¡­ very strongly.¡± She shivered. He didn¡¯t exactly know what to say here. She was a lot like him, in a way. Caught up in a [Witch¡¯s] scheme, alone and isolated. No, she was worse off than him. He could have opted out of Aberfa¡¯s dreams as soon as he realized what they were. She¡¯d probably been forced to come along. He smelled something light and floral on the wind, the way that sunshine on the petals of wildflowers smelled in your mind. Her perfume, and it wasn¡¯t just a smell. She was doing something to his head, making herself more sympathetic. He made a face like he smelled a fart and waved under his nose. ¡°Don¡¯t. I¡¯m not weak to that, but others won¡¯t be so kind.¡± The scent immediately disappeared. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Tears sprang to her eyes. ¡°Please, help me.¡± ¡°I not let them torture you. I promise,¡± said Brin. He didn¡¯t promise to release her, though. There was always a chance that she really was the [Witch] they were looking for. The [Interrogators] would find out the truth. She didn¡¯t look comforted in the slightest, but she shakily bowed her head and said, ¡°Thank you.¡± Brin looked away, shamefaced, and walked along the wagon in silence for a while. ¡°Can I ask? Why are Arcaena people low level?¡± She snorted. ¡°I¡¯m high level for my age, and look where that got me.¡± ¡°Why?¡± She looked at him, seeming a bit confused. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s the same here. You can have a good life if you stay normal. The nobles won¡¯t care about you; they won¡¯t even think about you. But if you stand out, if you excel? Someone will come ¡®invite¡¯ you to serve their household. And you won¡¯t like what happens if you turn down such an invitation.¡± ¡°Not here. Here is free,¡± said Brin. She snorted in derision. ¡°That¡¯s what the sons of nobles always say.¡± It was Brin¡¯s turn to laugh. ¡°Something close. I ask other thing. You know, yes? Nobles in Arcaena are [Witches]?¡± She gasped in shock, and instinctively looked around in panic to see who else had heard. Then she remembered where she was and with visible reluctance said, ¡°Yes. We know. We don¡¯t speak of it, but we know.¡± Brin nodded. ¡°You promise? No torture?¡± she asked again. ¡°I promise.¡± She didn¡¯t look too convinced, but Brin meant what he¡¯d said. They¡¯d listen to him, or he¡¯d have Hogg break her out. With nothing else to say, Brin drifted away, and joined a much less traumatizing conversation with his friends. Davi and Myra were trying to get Zilly to admit that she¡¯d snuck away from the group before getting ensnared by the Wisp. Zilly was adamant that she¡¯d had every intention of sticking to the plan and that the Wisp had gotten to her first. Sion was playing referee. Brin immediately joined in on Davi and Myra¡¯s side, though he had to pull a few of his punches because he wasn¡¯t sure if they¡¯d let Sion in on the secret that it was a [Witch¡¯s] hideout that they¡¯d attacked. You will obscure things for no reason. He growled and knocked on his head. Stupid [Witch] mother, putting stupid ideas in his head. She¡¯d probably made it up to screw with him. He wasn¡¯t secretive. ¡°Are you alright, Brin?¡± Sion asked. Brin didn¡¯t know exactly how to answer that. He couldn¡¯t exactly tell him about Aberfa¡­ You will obscure things for no reason. He had a good reason! He shook his head. ¡°Sorry. Just have a lot on my mind. Actually, could I talk to you for a second?¡± ¡°Of course, my friend,¡± said Sion, concern etched onto his features. They moved away from the others, and Sion asked, ¡°What is it?¡± Brin was probably being dumb. Hogg was insanely powerful and he was smart. If he thought he had a chance to take out Aberfa before nightfall, he was probably right. If that was true, then any contingencies he made would be a waste of time. On the other hand, Hogg wasn''t omnipotent, and Brin¡¯s entire soul was screaming at him that this thing would end with a confrontation between him and her.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I¡¯m glad you sought me out,¡± said Sion. ¡°I meant to ask you what brought on your sorry mood.¡± ¡°What? I¡¯m in a great mood. I just got a breakthrough in my Class. Things are looking up,¡± said Brin. ¡°You could tell by your face.¡± Brin scowled, then remembered he was in too good of a mood for scowls and smiled. ¡°My face says I¡¯m doing fine.¡± Sion looked unconvinced. ¡°Is that so? In that case what did you wish to speak about?¡± ¡°I have a favor I want to ask. But I feel like we¡¯re maybe level 3 friends, and this is a level 5 friend request,¡± said Brin. Sion waved that away in much the same manner as Brin had waved away the perfume. ¡°No. There¡¯s no levels for friends. It¡¯s either friend or not friend. We¡¯ve spilled blood together, and we¡¯ve run from the Watch together. What else do we need?¡± ¡°That¡¯s all stuff you¡¯ve done for me. I¡¯ve done nothing for you, and now I¡¯d be asking more,¡± said Brin. ¡°That¡¯s right. That¡¯s how it works. Now tell me your favor, and I warn you: If you do not, then we will part ways here as strangers. I swear this on my honor as a [Merchant].¡± Sion rarely let his Prinnashian accent slip out, but this time he did, as thick and heavy as Pio¡¯s. Brin relented. He pulled out a slip of bark paper with a name written on it. ¡°I need this potion.¡± Sion¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°These are very addictive. Is this what has been troubling you?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯ve never drunk one before in my life, I¡¯ve only ever heard of them. But I need it fast, before we get to Blackcliff.¡± Brin had never even seen one, but one of the good things about traveling in a [Merchant] caravan, was that they of all people knew what sort of things could be bought. As soon as he heard about this potion, he knew he had to have it. Sion shrugged. ¡°Is that all? I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll take a horse and ride out immediately.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pay,¡± said Brin. Sion winced. ¡°You don¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°Your Class gives you levels from making sales, not from giving gifts to your friends. I would literally die from shame if I took Class experience from you. You¡¯re going to let me pay you. I¡¯m not going to compromise on this,¡± said Brin. Sion held his eyes, looking stern. Then suddenly he laughed and shook his head in amusement. ¡°You¡¯ve really never studied with a [Merchant] of Prinnash?¡± ¡°Just like Hogg and stuff,¡± said Brin. ¡°I¡¯ll get you your potion. I¡¯ll even let you pay me, seeing as I am a kind and magnanimous man,¡± said Sion. ¡°You¡¯re going to overcharge me, too,¡± said Brin. Sion started walking away. Brin tried to follow, so Sion started running and¡­ wow, he¡¯d gotten good at running. He ran up the road of the caravan, spoke a few quick words with Pio, and got on top of a horse before Brin could catch all the way up. ¡°You hear me, Sion? You¡¯re going to charge for your time, too!¡± ¡°I can¡¯t hear you!¡± Sion yelled back. ¡°You need to fleece me!¡± ¡°You¡¯re getting wholesale!¡± Sion yelled into the wind, and then he was gone. Brin sighed in defeat, and dropped back to walk with his friends. Davi and Myra still hadn¡¯t let the thing with the Wisp go, and Zilly¡¯s face started to look red and splotchy from all the hazing. She looked to be near tears. Brin joined in, but guided it towards accusing her of increasingly ridiculous motivations. First he accused her of getting separated after accidentally falling asleep, then he pinched her to make sure she was the real Zilly and that she wasn¡¯t the Wisp in disguise. Then he had Marksi nibble on her to make sure, and he made such a funny disgusted ¡°Blegh¡± sound that even Zilly had to smile. After that, Davi accused her of being a spy from the Moon kingdom and it devolved from there. Everyone was laughing by the end. The mood of the caravan was light and people began talking excitedly as they neared their journey¡¯s end. They passed a small hamlet that didn¡¯t even have walls around it, signaling that all the dangerous country was behind them. They felt safe, and Brin hoped that they were right. Only Pio seemed to be immune to the good mood. He went from animal to animal in the wagon train, checking them carefully and cursing at every imagined slight. When he came to check on the hooves of a nearby ox, Brin stepped up to talk to him. ¡°Are you excited to get to town?¡± Brin asked. Pio shrugged. ¡°Be here or be there. It¡¯s much the same.¡± ¡°I¡¯m excited to see the ocean at least.¡± ¡°Eh, I wouldn¡¯t know.¡± Brin paused. ¡°You literally live in a caravan. Are you seriously telling me you¡¯ve never seen the ocean?¡± Pio bent over to run his fingers along the ox¡¯s leg, maybe checking for burrs. He found one and flicked it away. ¡°Not what I meant. I don¡¯t see what¡¯s so good about it. Just a big lot of water, and all the best animals are too hard to reach.¡± ¡°So pop a water breathing pill and dive down there. It sounds like it would be a [Beast Master¡¯s] dream,¡± said Brin. ¡°Dream. Hmph. I¡¯ll stick with dry beasts.¡± Pio turned and walked away, in his ¡®don¡¯t follow me¡¯ sort of way. The day was cool, far away from the Boglands'' ever-present heat. It was the perfect temperature, maybe about sixty-five, and the kids from Hammon¡¯s Bog were starting to shiver. For him, it felt like possibly the first time that he¡¯d been comfortable since he¡¯d gotten this body, though of course that was all in his head. [Traveler] meant that he barely felt the fluctuations in weather. The sun gradually dipped towards the horizon, and there was no sign of Hogg. He helped the caravan set up camp, and then Araunya the [Camp Chef] prepared dinner. It was stew again, and he heard a few murmured complaints. Araunya heard it, too, and firmly reprimanded the complainers, reminding them that tomorrow they¡¯d be in Blackcliff, Frenaria¡¯s premier port city, and they¡¯d all soon have their fill of exotic cuisines. After dinner, the night grew a bit colder, but no one seemed to want to leave. They huddled closer to the bonfire, but conversation dwindled. Zerif looked around at the assembled people and smiled. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t you all look like that, please! This isn¡¯t the end of our caravan. We¡¯ll continue on after Blackcliff as we always have.¡± ¡°But it won¡¯t be the same caravan,¡± Jeffrey said dreamily, strumming his lute. ¡°Many will stay in Blackcliff, and many new others will join. No, it¡¯s no cause for tears. It¡¯s not the end. But it is an ending.¡± ¡°Then let us celebrate it! Another successful run! Let¡¯s have music and dancing, and yes, break out the wine!¡± Zerif said. The group perked up at that news, and a group of men jumped to their feet to faithfully carry out Zerif¡¯s directive. Jeffrey stood and bowed, eliciting an even greater round of cheering from the caravan, and then began to play. Mumeli the [Dancer] rose, and everyone rose to follow her. Wine flowed, music played, people danced, and the forest, so sparse with trees that it could barely even be called that, didn¡¯t interfere. Brin danced with Myra, Zilly, and even ended up across from Mumeli and Araunya at one point. Perhaps the only woman he didn¡¯t dance with was the poor [Perfumer], watching morosely from her cage. Even Davi got to dance; Jeffrey plucked the oud from his hands and pushed him towards the dancers, and the big guy went to with surprisingly nimble feet. Though, he did stumble more than once the one time he found himself standing in front of Myra. Brin tried to have fun, and succeeded for the most part, but he couldn¡¯t keep his eyes off the metaphorical clock. Hogg should¡¯ve been back by now. All too soon, the dancers tired and the chill of the night reasserted itself. Jeffrey played a lively jig where more than half of the group stayed in their seats, and so the next song wasn''t a dancing tune at all, but a slow and sweet love song. After that, Jeffrey''s music went dark. The tune was immediately jarring and discordant, played in a depressing C minor. When the lyrics started, they were in a version of such ancient Frenarian that Brin almost couldn''t understand it, and only figured out what it was about when he picked out the names ''Eli'' and ''Grendle''. The song went through the whole story and went on much too long. It was completely killing the mood, and Brin could see a relaxing night of fun quickly turning sour. People began to take furtive glances into the forest, remembering that they weren¡¯t quite safe yet. What had they been thinking, imagining the danger was gone? They were still in the forest. As it went on, Brin started to worry that no one would be able to sleep tonight. In fact, the faint impressions he could pick up through the Wyrd told him that was what Jeffrey was going for. He looked at the [Bard] with a question in his eyes, and Jeffrey raised his eyebrows back. Did the [Bard] think that something was going to happen tonight? He might¡¯ve figured it out by watching Brin; Jeffrey had a supernatural sense when it came to people¡¯s emotions. He might¡¯ve seen that Brin was gearing up for battle. What he was wrong about though, was thinking the battle would involve everyone. This fight was only going to be in his dreams. The whole song took nearly fifteen minutes. By the time it was done the camp''s few children were pale with fright and the forest seemed a lot darker and more immediate than it had before, even to Brin. "Perhaps we could have something cheerier next?" asked Zerif. Jeffrey sat. "I''m sorry. I find myself in a bit of a mood, and my music can''t help but reflect that. Davi?" Davi shook his head and whispered, scarcely audible. "No, I don''t think so. Brin?" All eyes turned to Brin. He smiled and said, "Why not?" He walked to fetch his half-lute, really not much different from a guitar, and as he walked back he started to prance, putting on airs like he was one of those unbearably dainty [Bards] they''d seen in Oud''s Bog. He stood in the middle of the group and bowed, raised his hands with a flourish and acted as if he were preparing to gently pluck one of his strings. Then he brutalized his half-lute to the tune of the Kukubaru song. Everyone roared with laughter and immediately started clapping along. By the time the song was done, much of their earlier good mood had returned, though the darkness of the forest still loomed. When the applause died down, Jeffrey frowned at him, looking annoyed. "Are silly songs really all you can do? I suppose I understand why you never got offered [Bard]. To be an artist is to be vulnerable, to expose your true soul. You can never do that with jests and japes." Brin was stunned. What did the [Bard] want from him? He didn¡¯t know any scary songs, and Jeffrey had done well enough on his own. No one would be sleeping well tonight, but Brin had at least hoped that the caravan¡¯s last memories together would be pleasant ones. No chance of that now. Just like that, the good mood had evaporated. Everyone stared at Brin, who grew increasingly red in the face. His first instinct was to shout back, to curse Jeffrey out, but the energy for it just wasn''t there. He felt empty. He¡¯d felt like this for a long, long time, and he was sick of pretending. He was a thin sheet of skin covering absolute emptiness underneath. Submitting to Aberfa had given him a lot of knowledge, but it had hollowed him out inside. He was so tired of it. Jeffrey''s prodding had revealed a truth; that he really didn''t care about any of this. Brin let the false smile drop from his face. "Telling jokes isn''t vulnerable? Spoken like someone who hasn''t made a joke to a crowded room and watched it fall flat. You think I smile because I don''t know how to frown? But have it your way. I know a couple more mature songs." He didn''t play right away. He went through the song he wanted in his mind, making sure he''d be able to get the right chords; it wasn''t complicated, almost everything came through the vocals, but he wanted to get it perfect. It was a full minute before he was ready to start, a minute of complete silence. Then he strummed the first note of Hurt by Nine Inch Nails, as performed by Johnny Cash. Puberty had been making his voice uneven and scratchy, and he hoped that it would help to reproduce Cash''s wizened vocals, but no such luck. His voice came out as clean and light as a sixteenth century boys'' choir. The effect was unrelenting in its purity, like getting hydrochloric acid poured directly into your eyes. He was already starting to regret his song choice when the first line hit the crowd, who frowned and let their jaws drop in shock. Then he felt the magic kick in and it got even worse. Jeffrey had carefully tapped out a few supporting notes, and pushed his [Bard] magic in to amplify everything Brin was feeling to the crowd. When he sang the lyric questioning what he¡¯d become, his voice broke and everything hit him all at once. What had he become? He was Aberthol. You could only pretend to be something so long before you actually started to become that thing, and he was becoming Aberthol. Weak and scared little Aberthol. He nearly stopped right there, pausing after the first verse for an extra long time. But now that he was on the precipice, he found he didn¡¯t want to stop. Fine. Let them hear it. He pushed his heart and soul into the song. His knowledge of the Wyrd and Jeffrey¡¯s magic formed a feedback loop, feeding on each other and growing stronger and stronger until he was frankly awed at the level of despair he heard in his own voice. The audience flinched at the words ¡®hurt¡¯ and ¡®pain¡¯ as if they¡¯d been slapped, and he knew a slap would¡¯ve been preferable. He was able to put an incredible amount of Wyrd into those words, imbuing them with layers of meaning and authority. Gradually, Jeffrey¡¯s magic stopped amplifying his emotions and actually reversed to help contain them, to protect the most vulnerable in the group, especially the children. Brin was too far gone to pull back. Being a child didn¡¯t mean you couldn¡¯t understand the truth of this world. No one had shielded Aberthol, after all. With Jeffrey¡¯s protections in place, he felt his last inhibition fall away and pushed his song out into the world with renewed vigor. It wasn¡¯t until the last verse that he realized what was going on. He understood, all at once, that this was¡­ helping. He was already feeling better. He¡¯d been building up an incredible amount of misery and he¡¯d needed to let it out. Jeffrey was helping him get it out, and already he could feel it helping. The last verse was still full of suffering, but he also let slip a fair amount of peace, and a tiny sliver of hope. He sang a [Scarred One] song until it was done. No one spoke. Nervous, he scratched the back of his head. ¡°I see no one is shouting for an encore¡­¡± The [Dancer] shot to her feet. ¡°You shut up!¡± That motion made the dam break. Brin¡¯s eyes were dry; all his sadness had released itself through his voice, but several members of the caravan sobbed openly while others started angrily muttering. Zerif motioned for them to stay seated, ¡°Now, now¡­¡± Myra burst into tears, palms pressed against her eyes, and Zilly glared stone-faced. The [Perfumer] had backed up to the far corner of her cell, watching him with terror in her eyes. Brin looked back calmly, feeling more grounded and solid than he had since before the nightmares started. He found Jeffrey¡¯s eyes and nodded in thanks. Jeffrey nodded back in acceptance. Davi grabbed his shoulder, one manly tear sliding down his cheek. His voice was even when he asked, ¡°Is that really what it was like?¡± ¡°No! No, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s just¡­¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s just a song. It¡¯s just a song I heard. I didn¡¯t even write it.¡± He tried to pull away, but Davi¡¯s grip was firm. He met Brin¡¯s eyes and said, ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Brin said. No one was much for entertainment after that. They separated off to their separate wagons, and those who stayed on bedrolls near the fire slept a little bit further apart than normal. Brin stayed up, ignoring the men who had watch when they told him to go to bed. He sat on a log and watched the fire, waiting. Hogg never returned, but two hours past midnight, Sion did. The [Merchant] pressed the potion into his hands, and sensing the mood, retreated without a word. He¡¯d make sure to pay him later. Brin stared down at it. He pulled another potion from Lumina¡¯s ring. Calisto¡¯s sleep in a bottle. He could use this and wait for Hogg. He never needed to see Aberfa again. It was time for a decision. He was prepared for Aberfa this time. He had a plan. Despite that, he really didn¡¯t want to see her. He wanted to wait for Hogg to kill her far away from him, and close this chapter of his life. Aberfa must have plans, too. He felt it, through the Wyrd, that tonight¡¯s dreams would be the culmination of everything she¡¯d been working towards since she¡¯d first invaded him with nightmares. He didn¡¯t have to do this. It occurred to him that this wasn¡¯t even about him. The reason that Tenerer had given him the missions hadn¡¯t been for his benefit¨Cit had been for Aberfa. She had used a Mother¡¯s Knot to return her son from death, and the gods hadn¡¯t given her that. They¡¯d cheated her, and now they were intervening to make it right. Brin wouldn¡¯t have had any reason to care about Aberfa at all, but a son would have. He didn¡¯t need to do this, and maybe before his song, he wouldn¡¯t have. But he felt stronger, more himself, and when he looked inside himself he found the strength to do what needed to be done. Wasn¡¯t this that same old decision? Fight or flee. That settled it. He muttered a prayer to Solia. I¡¯ll do it. I¡¯ll pay your debts and see it through. I¡¯ll give her one last chance to get to me. But after tonight, it¡¯s done. After tonight, Aberfa is nothing to me but a monster. He drank the potion Sion gave him. In minutes, he was asleep. Book 3 - Chapter 56 The dream began in Alheadra, but not in the city below. Aberfa stood in front of enormous black gates rising incredibly high into the air, but still only the small basement floor of Arcaena¡¯s massive citadel. He could see now that it was deceptively large; everything was in such large proportions that he hadn¡¯t quite understood the size of it when he viewed it from far away. His body¡¯s mother was different tonight. She was pitch black, a walking, breathing void of light. She smiled. ¡°You made the right decision. Now come and I will reveal all.¡± ¡°No tricks. I want the secret first. I¡¯m not doing anything else until you give me what you promised.¡± Her grin grew wider. ¡°Yes of course! That is my desire as well.¡± She turned and opened the massive gates as easily as flicking open her own front door and the dream shifted. The world looked like it had all been scrawled by a pencil on paper, like they were living in the sketch that might soon become a children¡¯s story book. The dark shape of Aberfa waved and a flower-covered plain grew up from the worn yellow page, reaching towards a fairy-tale castle in the distance. ¡°Once upon a time, before there was a nation called Arcaena there was a nation named Edelor. The nation was peaceful and just and its champions were righteous. Wisest and strongest of all these champions was a man named Bouwen. He was fair of face, strong of arm, as well as kind and good. He did good wherever he went and struck down tyrant and monster alike.¡± The world shifted quickly like the sudden flapping of pages, and Brin was treated to several scenes of a knight in shining armor striving against perilous foes, and just as many pages of him being celebrated wherever he went. ¡°I once told you that there was no such thing as evil Classes. Did you believe me when I told you that?¡± ¡°No,¡± Brin answered. Aberfa sang out a string of tinkling laughter. ¡°Fair enough. But I will implore you to believe me when I say this: there are such things as good Classes. Bouwen had such a Class. A Legendary Class. He was a [Paladin].¡± Brin sucked in a mouthful of air. He had barely heard anything of Legendary Classes. As far as he knew, even [Archmage of the Mystical Elements] was only an Epic Class. ¡°It¡¯s strange to hear you praise a man like this,¡± said Brin. Aberfa shook out her hair. ¡°How could I not? If all men were such as he, there would be no such thing as [Witches]. But now I fear I must tell you of Bouwen¡¯s folly and fall. After ridding all evil in his own kingdom, he ventured forth to cleanse the world. He traveled high and low and eventually made his way to a powerful coven of [Witches]. One of those very [Witches] was she who was not yet called Arcaena.¡± The picture book they were living inside never showed Arcaena¡¯s face, careful to shift around to her back in every scene she was in, and black robes and a hat obscured the figure. He could tell it was her, somehow, even though she was always surrounded by a dozen other [Witches]. ¡°They did battle. Their war was fierce and rearranged the landscape and caused natural calamities. For years afterwards, the nearby lands were plagued with floods on one hand, and droughts on the other. Then it was over. At great cost, Bouwen was slain,¡± said Aberfa. A lone [Witch] stood over the armored figure of Bouwen, still regal even in death. ¡°Much was lost, but she gained even more. She gained her name and power, and what¡¯s more, she had the greatest warrior in the world. Possibly the greatest in a thousand years or longer. She had¡­ his corpse, anyway.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like where this is going,¡± said Brin. ¡°And why would you?¡± asked Aberfa. He waited for her to continue, but she didn¡¯t, and kept smiling a hospitable little smile. Aberfa never smiled this much unless she was holding a dagger behind her back. ¡°She made him into an undead, didn¡¯t she?¡± She shook her head, looking pleased that he had drawn the obvious and incorrect conclusion. ¡°No. His Class was too good. Any necromantic power laid upon his body would¡¯ve been burned away by the authority that still rested upon him. No, nothing would do for this champion except an honorable burial.¡± Brin sneered. ¡°She just buried him? That¡¯s it? You really want me to believe that she didn¡¯t have a use for him?¡± ¡°Of course not. She had a use for him.¡± The storybook vision faded away, and then they were back inside the fortress at Alhaedra, though Aberfa was still black like a living blotch of ink. Brin could see the massive gates behind him; they were in a great hall. A painting of the starry sky covered the ceiling with the constellations charted out. Tall braziers glowing with a violet flame dotted the space, and a gigantic mural of a dark-clad [Witch] with a bandage-wrapped face covered the floor. Probably Arcaena herself. ¡°What use did she have for his corpse?¡± Brin asked. ¡°First, understand that our bargain is complete. I have already told you information that would shake Frenaria, Olland, and Prinnash to their foundations if they knew. I will tell you the rest, as well. Before we get to that, did you ever wonder what Class I have picked out for you?¡± Brin mulled over whether or not he would object to the change in subject. The Wyrd was telling him that she was right; she really had told him enough to consider her promise kept. He didn¡¯t have grounds to object. ¡°What were you going to do to me?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Guess.¡± ¡°Something to do with Bouwen. You never told me how she killed him. I bet that¡¯s a clue. You were going to turn me into a Class that can kill [Paladins].¡± Aberfa raised her eyes in surprise. ¡°What? No! Well, I suppose I can¡¯t really say no, can I? But no. Try again. What would you have guessed before we came in here?¡± ¡°[Pet],¡± Brin decided. ¡°You¡¯ve been training me. Punishing me harshly for mistakes and rewarding good behavior. You want an obedient dog.¡± ¡°No,¡± said Aberfa. ¡°I¡¯m not against having [Pets], to be fair.¡± A pathetic excuse for a human appeared on the floor in front of them. He was middle aged and balding, but every indication showed he had the mental age of a child. He crawled and cavorted happily around them both, his eyes vacant and dull. ¡°Have I shown you how to grant that Class? It isn¡¯t just obedience training. You have to convince them, truly make them believe with all their heart, that they cannot survive without you. This is most easily done with the removal of the arms or legs.¡± The man shifted into a young child and Aberfa stepped towards him with an angrily spinning buzz-saw. ¡°Stop! I don¡¯t want to see this!¡± ¡°Why not? Some day you may find it necessary.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t. I¡¯m certain I won¡¯t,¡± said Brin. Aberfa¡¯s inky face looked at him in contempt, her smile slipping for the first time. ¡°Some day you¡¯ll have children and you¡¯ll understand. You¡¯ll understand the need to turn your heart into steel to protect them, to give them the future they need, the future they deserve.¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re sick.¡± ¡°I¡¯m what I had to be to give you happiness. I¡¯m the only creature in the world capable of giving you the right kind of life. No, Aberthol. I have uses for [Pets] but a son is not a pet.¡± ¡°Happiness? Torturing me for all those years was supposed to make me happy? If you wanted me to be happy, you could¡¯ve let me stay home and be a [Glasser].¡± Her black on black eyes flicked with red. ¡°You never could¡¯ve been a [Glasser]. You were made for greater things! You didn¡¯t want to be normal. You knew you would be great!¡± Brin sighed. ¡°You never had any idea what I wanted. You never cared.¡± ¡°Wrong. I am your mother. I saw you take your first steps and I heard your first words. I heard your first breath and from that first breath I knew. I knew that you could never be like the other children. You were made for something more.¡± ¡°I never wanted to be some Arcaenean dark Class abomination,¡± said Brin. ¡°No. You¡¯re right. You think I wanted you to be a [Scarred One]? It all would¡¯ve been much simpler if that¡¯s all I had in mind for you. But you didn¡¯t want to be angry, unfeeling and cruel. You wanted to be good and kind.¡± Brin shook his head, confused. This wasn¡¯t where he thought this conversation was going. The dark-colored Aberfa continued. ¡°[Illusionist] was wrong, too. You¡¯re not a deceiver. When you were young, you hated deception of any sort. You were good. Don¡¯t you understand? You were kind and you defended the weak, even if it led to you getting hurt. Even if you suffered or were punished or mocked. You never lied to me, not until I taught you to. You were good, and Arcaena is not the place for good men.¡± Brin was confused. All of this was wrong. ¡°What are you saying?¡± ¡°You''ll see. Let¡¯s look at some more Classes. [Scab Eater], you know that one. [Blood Harvester], now this is interesting.¡± Another boy, looking to be near his System Day, appeared on the mural of Arcaena, right below her collarbone. The boy was so covered in scars that Brin might¡¯ve called him a [Scarred One] and he had tubes like catheters that carried his blood into bottles. Aberfa grinned, showing black teeth. ¡°Not the hardest Class to earn. The choice will appear when the subject starts to plan his day around the idea that his blood is meant for the nutrition of others. He will think about the best diet to provide the right vitamins, and plan his sleep schedule around it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care. Stop it,¡± said Brin. ¡°Then there¡¯s [Voice Hearer].¡± A girl appeared next to the boy, with spindly thin arms and legs and sunken eyes. ¡°We produced her with a mix of sleep deprivation, isolation, and never-ceasing bright lights, and complete and utter silence. It didn¡¯t take as long as you probably think. She is an excellent tool for surveillance.¡± ¡°Stop showing me this,¡± said Brin. ¡°[Broken Doll],¡± said the dark Aberfa. Another boy appeared on the ground in a nightdress, laying on his back unmoving. Aberfa picked him up and danced him around, a macabre imitation of a child playing with a toy. ¡°These show up in the citizenry where you least expect it, but they¡¯re very difficult to create intentionally. Torture, of course, but it can never be so bad as to drive them mad. Their suffering must be carefully curated over the course of years so as to completely rob them of all hope and will. They must especially lose their will to live.¡± Brin closed his eyes and plugged his ears. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t want to hear¨Cwait. That¡¯s the one, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s what you were going to do with me.¡± He opened his eyes, and Aberfa was grinning at him. He groaned in disbelief. ¡°Why? What¡¯s all that talk about me being happy if¡­ if that¡¯s what you wanted me to be?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Aberfa gestured at the boy, now limp where she¡¯d dropped him. ¡°These are the things I love the most. An empty doll, waiting for someone to snatch him up and breathe new purpose into him. He would do anything I wish, be anything I wish, and I would wish for him to be glorious.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you said about Ademsi¡­¡± Brin said. ¡°Why¨C?¡± ¡°Come,¡± Aberfa whirled and started to walk across the hall. She didn¡¯t head towards the stairs that Brin instinctually felt must lead higher into the citadel and towards Arcaena¡¯s throne. She took a side door instead. The environment blurred by, around corridors through doors, down stairs, down more and more stairs to a dungeon underneath. They stopped in a dark and musty room, covered with cobwebs though the walls were of polished obsidian. The room was well lit with magical torches, but it was still dark because the walls, the furniture, and Aberfa herself were black. The only color and light at all were Brin himself and the [Broken Doll] laying on an altar. No, there was something else, another penny-sized spot of grayish flesh on another altar. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°That¡¯s him,¡± answered Aberfa. ¡°A piece of him. Bouwen¡¯s Class remains with his flesh. In a costly and difficult ritual, Arcaena can suffuse the dead flesh into the broken doll, giving both a new life. This child, now empty and broken, is healed and made new. And made better.¡± The lights went out, and when they returned, the [Broken Doll] was sitting up. He looked flush and healthy, though a little confused, holding his head and thinking hard. Brin [Inspected] him. Paladin ¡°Imagine! Starting out with a Legendary Class! It would give you more than most people can gain in their entire lives! A hundred years might go in a nation with no one earning a Legendary Class, and you¡¯ll start with it!¡± ¡°Oh,¡± said Brin. This was all too wrong, because that actually sounded like a good deal. He could practically hear the [Scarred One] saying in his mind Just hear me out. ¡°It would be fake. I¡¯d be your slave,¡± said Brin. ¡°[Paladin] cannot be faked. I wouldn¡¯t do all this just to make you into a puppet. You would forget everything, your name, your past, all the suffering you went through, any relation to Arcaena. You would be free! You would go out into the world and grow and laugh and right wrongs and do all the things you were always meant to do!¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°No. I don¡¯t believe it. Why would Arcaena do this if she sees no benefit?¡± Aberfa tapped her cheek. ¡°She will retain the power to¡­ switch you back. Once in a while, maybe only once a year or so, someone will find you and ask a few questions to the [Broken Doll]. Only to gather vital intelligence that will aid her in maintaining peace in the world. But you would not remember this, and you¡¯ll continue afterwards as if it never happened. She would have no other power over you at all, this I swear.¡± A spy. This was all an elaborate scheme to turn him into the perfect spy, one that didn¡¯t even know he was a spy. But there was more, he could feel it. The Wyrd had brought them so close together that Brin could feel an omission like a thorn in his boot, and Aberfa was omitting something big. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t have any other power over me, maybe. But you would. You said [Broken Dolls] aren¡¯t exactly impossible to find. If you just wanted a spy, you could use any old [Broken Doll]. No, it needs to be a child of a [Witch], doesn¡¯t it? This would only work if it¡¯s a child of a [Witch] loyal to Arcaena.¡± Aberfa winced, and sat down on the altar next to the newly formed [Paladin], putting an arm around his shoulders. He stared off into nothing, still looking dazed and confused. She said, ¡°It¡¯s nothing as insidious as you¡¯re thinking. A [Paladin] truly must be free. Perhaps I will be able to slip a suggestion into your thoughts, now and again, urging you to focus on one target over another. You would still be combating evil. Many of Arcaena¡¯s enemies are worse than she is.¡± ¡°Well, obviously this isn¡¯t happening,¡± said Brin. ¡°Your game is done. The only question I have left is, how could you do this? How could you torture your own son to the breaking point?¡± The shadow Aberfa glared at him. ¡°It was all for you. You will never understand the determination required to be a parent.¡± ¡°No, no, he¡¯s right,¡± came Aberfa¡¯s voice, now from behind him as well. She hugged him from behind and kissed his hair. From the arms wrapped around his stomach he could see that this Aberfa was in full color. This was¡­ the real Aberfa? As real as anything got in here. [Know What¡¯s Real] just told him this was all a dream and refused to get more specific than that. ¡°Get off me,¡± said Brin. Aberfa hugged him tighter. ¡°I could never have done this. I could never hurt you. My boy. My precious Aberthol. That¡¯s why I made her. All the cruelty, it wasn¡¯t me. It was my shadow.¡± The shadow Aberfa in front of him grinned triumphantly. ¡°You¡¯re sick.¡± ¡°Yes. Doing this to you has made my heart sick, but it was all for love. When I chose my monster form, I thought I could make it easier on you. I meant to break your spirit in your dreams, without ever touching a hair on your head. But [Know What¡¯s Real] never let you fully believe the dream you were in. Now, we will need to do this in the waking world where it will work to your detriment. Most people under extreme pain will detach from reality. They convince themselves that the pain isn¡¯t real. You will not be able to.¡± Brin looked around the blackened chamber, at the shadow Aberfa and the [Paladin]. ¡°So that¡¯s really all this was for. You¡¯ve been teaching me all this time knowing I¡¯d forget every word, just to bond us more tightly together in the Wyrd.¡± The real Aberfa spoke from behind him, not releasing her hold. ¡°You will keep the knowledge but lose the memories. And is it so wrong that I wanted to have this time together? If we are to be apart, I needed this. I needed to memorize the sound of your laugh and the lines of your frown. I have treasured this time we had together. It pains me that you will forget it, but I will remember it forever. I will take solace in knowing that my sacrifice was worth it. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? We can have everything. When I bring you to Arcaena she will return my humanity and my Class and you will be one of humanity¡¯s greatest heroes. We can have it all! Do you think I could leave you as you are, remembering all the bad times, the pain and loneliness, the things I put you through? No, I could only bear to do this knowing that you would forget it all. For you, it will be as if it never happened. Your suffering will be brief, and then we will have everything. Please. I beg you to consider it.¡± He did consider it; he couldn¡¯t help it. A Legendary Class, the kind of Class he dreamed about after meeting Galan. A life completely different from Mark¡¯s, and different than he was leading now. The most attractive feature was knowing that he¡¯d never regret it. Right now, knowing how much work he¡¯d put into earning [Glassbound Illusionist] meant that it would kill him to give it up, but in Aberfa¡¯s plan he¡¯d never know what he¡¯d lost. He wouldn¡¯t be tormented by his memories of the things he¡¯d lost from Mark¡¯s life or the horrors of the undead siege. He¡¯d start fresh, a true new start. Sure, the part about torture breaking his mind was a drawback, but he wouldn¡¯t remember that. Once, he¡¯d talked to a dentist about painkillers, and the dentist had gone into great detail about all the drawbacks of anesthesia. How it was addictive, imprecise, about the danger of giving too much or too little. He¡¯d asked why they don¡¯t just put the patients unconscious, and the dentist had explained that it wasn¡¯t that easy. The difference between knocking someone out with drugs and outright killing them was a thinner line than most people thought. Then the dentist had proposed something else. One drug to paralyze the patient, and another drug to block their brain¡¯s ability to form new memories. The patient would feel all the pain of the surgery, trapped in their own body and unable to move, but when it was done they wouldn¡¯t remember a thing and would imagine they¡¯d been asleep the whole time. Mark had said that he would never go to a dentist that did that, and the dentist had replied that he would never know if he had. Now he was being asked to tackle that same moral quandary. Would it really be so bad to just give in? This was [Paladin] they were talking about. He¡¯d lose his friends, but he¡¯d never know it. Frankly, he¡¯d been leading Myra, Zilly and Davi into all kinds of insane situations. They might be better off without him. There. He¡¯d considered the option in full, and the compulsion that the Wyrd had pressed into him faded. Brin sighed and delicately removed Aberfa¡¯s hands from around him, then turned to face her. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve considered it and the answer is no,¡± said Brin. Aberfa¡¯s face fell. She cast her eyes to the ground and muttered, ¡°Well, this is why we have parents. To make sure we do what¡¯s best for us, even if we have to be dragged kicking and screaming.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take it from here,¡± said the shadow Aberfa, and the full-colored one faded away. The altars and torches disappeared and the walls fell away, revealing an army of monsters, a mass of teeth and fur and claws as far as the eye could see. Shadow Aberfa floated above them like a malevolent spirit. ¡°I know this is a dream. It¡¯s not going to work,¡± said Brin. ¡°Not now. But it will work to soften you up,¡± said Aberfa. ¡°And don¡¯t try to wake up. The time for allowing you to think that is a possibility is done. I¡¯ve taken off the kid gloves.¡± The monsters charged forwards, intent on ripping and tearing him to pieces. ¡°Then so will I,¡± said Brin. He reached with his mind into a secret pocket bead of glass, and pulled out the memories he¡¯d stored there. Inside, he found his best arguments. He¡¯d known the effect that calling Aberfa ¡°mother¡± would have on him, so before he¡¯d ever done it, he¡¯d made sure to store every single argument against her that he could think of in a memory, to be used when he was ready to break free. Then he¡¯d used every point of Mental Control he had to force himself to never think of it again until it was time. He¡¯d worried when he¡¯d made these arguments that they wouldn¡¯t still apply when the time came, but as he reviewed them, he found they were better than ever. ¡°Monster. You are not my mother,¡± said Brin. Shadow Aberfa froze in the air, and the army of monsters recoiled. ¡°My name is Brin isu Yambul. Aberthol Beynon was a sad, pathetic little boy and he died. He¡¯s gone and will never return. You are not the mother of my spirit. You are also not the mother of my body. The mother of my body was a living human woman named Aberfa. You are not that woman. You do not possess that body. You¡¯re nothing but a monster.¡± He felt the Wyrd shift, breaking down the oppressive structure that they¡¯d been building these past months, undermining her authority over him. ¡°Silence!¡± Aberfa screamed. She urged her beasts onwards. Brin summoned glass to form a wall of blades around himself. He didn¡¯t use his magic, for once. Instead, he bent the dream to make the defenses appear. The first line of monsters impaled themselves on them. ¡°How?¡± Aberfa roared. Brin held up a glass bottle, a replication of the one Sion had given him. ¡°Potion of Lucid Dreams.¡± ¡°You think that can overpower me? I am a master of nightmares.¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t need to overpower you. I just needed something for my arguments to grab hold of. Speaking of which, let me reiterate: You are not my mother. Even if you were, I would have no duty to listen to you. You are sadistic and cruel. You tortured Aberthol into such despair that he chose to end his own life rather than continue on. Any claims you had on him or me ended that day.¡± Aberfa urged her monsters to greater fury, and they began to break down the defenses he built. ¡°I am your mother. Everything I¡¯ve done, I¡¯ve done for you. I am the one who nursed you, who taught you, who prepared you for life.¡± A slashing claw, from a beast that looked like a giant praying mantis cut Brin through the stomach. He fixed it with a thought. ¡°You are not. I already have a mother. Her name is Lumina.¡± She appeared in a pillar of light, as if calling her name also created her namesake. The beasts in a ten foot circle burned to ash as a red-robed woman descended from heaven to lightly touch down on the earth so softly it was almost as if the very earth itself were rising up to kiss her feet instead. Lumina peered around curiously from under her wide-brimmed red hat. ¡°Well look at this! How curious! What a treat.¡± ¡°A useless gesture. She¡¯s not real,¡± said Aberfa. ¡°And why should that matter?¡± asked Lumina. She flicked her wrist, a testing spell that shot forth a band of frost that carved a wide swath through the endless horde of monsters. ¡°Oh! Very interesting. Brin, might I assume that we¡¯re in your nightmares right now?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Brin said. ¡°Can you help with this?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Lumina raised her staff and began to go to work. She didn¡¯t speak in the Language this time; Brin¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t large enough to replicate the power she could bring to bear with her words. Her presence here was more metaphorical, and because even in his dreams, neither he nor Aberfa could imagine her losing to anything. A shattering wind dashed whole fields of monsters to pieces. Others were engulfed in a city-sized tsunami while others were buried in the fire of a falling sun. Lumina brought an apocalypse to bear in every direction of the dream. He felt the dream start to collapse as Aberfa tried to shove him back awake. Lumina threw her staff, and it transformed into four gigantic chains, moving in directions that didn¡¯t exist in three-dimensional reality. The chains had hooks on the end, and in a way that he could see but not comprehend, they latched onto the ends of the dream and held it into place. ¡°How?¡± Aberfa gasped. Lumina laughed. ¡°What ever could you mean? My dearest beast, I am an [Archmage].¡± ¡°Wait. Lumina, are you really here?¡± asked Brin. ¡°A complex question. Suffice it to say that an [Archmage] must always be wherever she is,¡± said Lumina. Aberfa fled, and Lumina followed. Aberfa summoned back Alhaedra with its impregnable fortress, and Lumina smashed it to rubble. Aberfa turned into a rainbow to flee at the speed of light, and Lumina arrived at her destination before she did. She smacked Aberfa with her staff, causing her to shriek in pain. All the while Brin followed along in the air, scarcely more than a ghost. ¡°Flee from me, beast. Run!¡± Lumina cheered. Aberfa tried to bury herself in the earth, to launch herself into space or hide herself in the clouds. Lumina met her in each place, burning her with fire or scouring her with lightning. Aberfa screamed in panic and lost her womanly form. Tentacles sprouted from her arms, and her body started to grow, her clothes melting into a monstrous form. ¡°No! Don¡¯t look at me!¡± She cast herself into the sea, and Brin felt her trying to tear the dream to pieces, shredding it so that even Lumina¡¯s chains couldn¡¯t keep it together. Brin found himself feeling real again, holding his spear on a beach. There were black obelisks dotting the water, but the fog meant he couldn¡¯t see very far. ¡°No! Don¡¯t look at it!¡± Aberfa screamed. More monsters surged up from the surf, vicious-looking sea monsters. Lumina dispatched them with smaller, more concentrated strings of fire, and one even got close enough that Brin had to push it back with his spear. ¡°Almost there,¡± said Lumina. ¡°Eyes open.¡± She cast a bright explosion of fire into the sky, so bright it burned his eyes, but he forced them to stay open. The mist retreated, and Brin saw more of those black obelisks¡­ no, they were a rock formation. The foothills of gigantic rock walls. There was a city up above in the distance. He knew where this was. These were the famous black cliffs of Blackcliff. ¡°Do you have what you need?¡± Lumina asked. The dream was collapsing all around them. It would be over in seconds, but it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°I do. Thank you,¡± said Brin. She gave him a half-hug, still holding the staff in her other hand. ¡°See you soon. In the real world, next time, hm?¡± Then it was over. He woke up and drew a deep breath into his nose, which was mostly blocked by his blanket. ¡°I have it! I know where Aberfa is!¡± Brin shouted. Or rather, he tried to. There was something in his mouth. He¡¯d been gagged. His hands were tied. There was a wagon on fire in his narrow field of view, under the blindfold over his eyes. Bandits. The caravan was under attack, and he¡¯d already been captured. Book Announcement: Bog Standard Isekai Volume 2: Illusionist is now Available on Amazon! Pretty much what the title says. Book 2 has been stubbed here on Royalroad, and it''s live on Amazon for print and kindle. If those of you who have read it would hop over and give it a rating or review, I would be extremely grateful. The algo''s care about that sort of thing, so every review helps me continue to be able to keep writing. Looking back, it''s crazy that I''ve come this far. My writing speed in the past was completing a book in a year, at about 120k words. The three Bog Standard books have taken about six months each, which is quite a big jump since they''re around 180k words each. When Book 1, I was writing at a feverish (for me) pace, but Book 2 is the time where I took a look at my schedule and realized that I was going to burn out at 3-per-week and slowed things down to two updates a week. I think that really helped me deliver a better quality book, and it''s a schedule that I can do without pushing myself too hard or stressing myself out. For those worried about burn-out, I picked this schedule so I could avoid that and I''m going strong!If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. That being said, after book 3 is fully posted on here, I will be taking a month-long break. This is mostly due to the fact that it matches up perfectly with a rather long family vacation that we''ve had planned for a while now. I hope to come back from that with a full outline of Book 4, an editing pass of book 3, and hopefully a few chapters head start, but to be honest most of the time I hope to just relax and hang out. For now, you can look forward to another two weeks of regular updates before that happens. Thank you all for making this happen. The amount of enthusiasm I see for Bog Standard Isekai still blows me away and I couldn''t do this without you. Please give me a review on Amazon if you can, just a reminder to that part! :) https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B0D5ZBRQSR Book 3 - Chapter 58 Hogg ignored Zerif¡¯s corpse completely, and went to his writing desk. He pulled an odd piece of equipment out of his pocket, something that looked like a stethoscope and put it in his ears. Brin moved to open the wardrobe, but Hogg said, ¡°Wait! A guy like him will put traps on his documents to destroy them rather than let someone else see them. I have to do this carefully.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± said Brin, withdrawing his hand. ¡°So, you know¡­ get out of here,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Fine.¡± As he was leaving, Hogg turned back to the desk moving the device across it carefully but confidently, like he¡¯d done this a hundred times. Outside, he supposed that he would have to be the one to appease the crowd. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Is he really dead?¡± someone asked. Brin thought quickly, trying to think of what he could say to get everyone to leave it alone while also not revealing what had happened. But did he even need to? This might just be his [Illusionist] instincts at work. He decided to go with the truth. ¡°Right now it looks like Zerif was working with the bandits and he directed the attack. We think Pio killed him in retaliation. We¡¯ll know more when Hogg gets done going over his documents, but it¡¯s a very tricky process to get them out without destroying them, so everyone else needs to stay out.¡± It probably shouldn¡¯t have surprised him, but even with how upset everyone was that Zerif hadn¡¯t participated in the fight, not everyone was ready to believe he was a traitor. It was Duelna, the [Merchant] he¡¯d met the first day on the caravan, who defended him the loudest. ¡°I¡¯ve been working with Zerif for years! He would never!¡± Several more people echoed her in support. Brin raised his hands. ¡°We don¡¯t know anything for sure, and any evidence we find will be shared with everyone.¡± Mumeli the [Dancer] stepped forward. ¡°I¡¯m third after Pio. No one is doing anything without me. Step aside.¡± Brin did. ¡°Like you said, I¡¯m not the boss. I¡¯m just telling you what Hogg told me.¡± Mumelis seemed a little surprised at Brin¡¯s lack of resistance, but really he was more than happy to let Hogg deal with her. She hesitated at the door frame when she got a first glimpse of Zerif¡¯s corpse, but then firmed herself and stepped inside. Thinking quick, Brin said, ¡°Zilly, why don¡¯t you go see if he needs a hand, too?¡± Watching Hogg carefully break into Zerif¡¯s possessions would probably give her some good Class experience. Hogg would be annoyed, but if he had a problem with it he could toss them out himself. Zilly quickly darted inside the wagon before anyone could stop her. Brin wearily walked over to the wagon Lurilan and Hogg had retrieved, and searched for his things. He threw on a shirt, decided that the blood and holes weren¡¯t enough to make him want to change his pants in the middle of the day in front of everyone. He decided to put on his leather armor, though. He didn¡¯t know exactly how his day was going to go, but he¡¯d be willing to bet it would be a long one. Annoyingly, his armor didn¡¯t fit very well. It was too small now. He had a hard time remembering that he was still growing, especially since Davi was still so much bigger. The armor was still better than nothing, so he put it on, pulling out the drawstrings everywhere to leave big gaps in places. He found his spear with the wooden haft, but decided against replacing the glass one he¡¯d used to fight the bandits. Everyone had seen it now, and they might believe he¡¯d summoned it, but it would draw questions if it disappeared again. All prepared, he made his way to Lurilan, who was waiting a small distance away from the others. ¡°Did Hogg catch you up?¡± Lurilan nodded. ¡°He filled me in on the details, yes. I arrived a few days ago and busied myself with hunting down any odd or exotic beasts in the area. Hogg thought, and I agreed, that the cause of your nighttime troubles¨C¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say it like that. It sounds like I¡¯m wetting the bed,¡± said Brin. Lurilan gave a sympathy chuckle. ¡°We thought the monster might be nearby. Then, when you revealed that she was a monster of the sea, we dashed ahead towards the shore. I dare to say we destroyed every sea creature larger than a dolphin within ten miles of Blackcliff. I got some nice levels out of it, and I dare say Hogg did as well.¡± Brin slumped. ¡°Oh. Then my lead is worthless. I thought I found her; I got an image of a location of where I was certain she would be in my dream, but it was really close to Blackcliff.¡± Lurilan shrugged. ¡°It might be worth a look. Tracking creatures underwater isn¡¯t my specialty. We might also try following that man¡¯s trail. Pio, I believe?¡± ¡°Hogg has suspected Pio from the beginning. We know Aberfa was behind some of the monster attacks earlier in the journey, but we never figured out her method. If she is controlling Pio then it would all make sense. If she can just reach out halfway across the world and start controlling any and all monsters, then why not people too? But if it¡¯s Pio, then she only needed to get one person working for her. That¡¯s a lot easier to buy. ¡°Yesterday, I asked him if he¡¯s ever been to the ocean and he said some of the dumbest things I¡¯ve ever heard. Pio is a terrible liar. But then today the bandits tried to capture me and Pio fought against them.¡± ¡°We shouldn¡¯t assume that all of this is connected. Hogg told me that the bandits worked for Zerif, who is secretly an agent of Prinnash. You¡¯re a son of Lumina; that alone would give them motive.¡± ¡°Yes, but we know that Zerif had information that only could¡¯ve come from Aberfa, and not Pio.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Brin smiled at getting the chance to play Sherlock. ¡°Elementary, my dear Lurilan. The bandits destroyed the sleep protections I had against Aberfa.¡± Rather than be impressed, Lurilan frowned. ¡°Show me.¡± Brin did, although someone had moved them. In an attempt to restore order, someone had swept away anything broken or ruined, heaping it all into a pile at the edge of camp. Someone had actually folded them and placed them to the side; even torn in half, it was nice fabric. Maybe they knew he¡¯d retrieve the pieces, or maybe they were hoping he wouldn¡¯t. He held it up. Lurlan¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Bandits didn¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± It looked like a very even cut to Brin. ¡°This is quite literally what I do. I¡¯m sure. A beast bit it there, see the hole? Pressed the other side to the ground with a hoof and tore it in half.¡± Brin dropped it, stunned. ¡°Then¡­¡± ¡°Was there anything else?¡± He found the shattered jar first, with his affinity to glass. ¡°Picked up and dropped. I see traces of saliva, so probably with a mouth.¡± The broken idol was under some burnt planks. ¡°Smashed with a tusk. A beast did this.¡± Brin felt sick. ¡°A giant boar did this.¡± Lurilan turned and dashed towards Zerif¡¯s Wagon. ¡°Hogg. We should away!¡± There wasn¡¯t an answer right away, so Lurilan pounded on the door. ¡°We should go now!¡± Hogg opened it, looking peeved. ¡°This¨C¡± ¡°We have an answer,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°Time is wasting.¡± Hogg winced. ¡°There are some sensitive things in here.¡± He glanced around at the curious caravaneers. Oops. There were probably state secrets in there. Brin probably shouldn¡¯t have promised everyone that they could see what Hogg found. ¡°Perhaps I could assist.¡± Jeffrey stepped through the crowd, lute in hand. He turned and leaned against the wagon, strumming his instrument. ¡°I think that if we all thought about it, we¡¯d realize that we aren¡¯t really interested in the contents of this wagon. Whatever Zerif schemes entailed, it won¡¯t bring back the dead or repair broken trust.¡± The effect was immediate. Shame-faced, the crowd retreated, back to the work of repairing their lives. Brin still didn¡¯t know if it was impossible to argue with Jeffrey, or if it was impossible to want to argue with Jeffrey. He thought his Mental Resistance was strong enough that he could do it, except that Jeffrey was definitely doing him a favor right now. Or was that just what he wanted him to think. Hogg winced, looking at Jeffrey with a pained expression. ¡°I hate to ask this¡­¡± Jeffrey nodded calmly. ¡°I will guard the wagon until your return. No one will even remember it is here.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Thank you.¡± Jeffrey nodded again. ¡°My apprentice will see to your [Bardic] needs in the meantime.¡± Hogg winced again, for a different reason. Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. Hogg sighed. ¡°He can come.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m coming, too!¡± said Zilly. ¡°And m¨C¡± started Myra. ¡°No way! Just no. This isn¡¯t some System preparation children¡¯s class. We¡¯re going into real combat here.¡± Brin thought he¡¯d get a little pushback, but Zilly and Myra nodded silently and walked to the edge of the camp. Zilly deposited her pack with a [Merchant] after a few words, then he noticed Sion do the same, holding only his spear and a small satchel. Sion and Zilly started stretching and limbering up while Myra started cutting down the grass in the area, weaving it into rope. Brin honestly wasn¡¯t sure what Myra¡¯s plan was, but it looked like Sion and Zilly really thought they were going to get to come along. Hogg glared at them. ¡°What are you idiots doing?¡± ¡°Getting ready for a run,¡± said Sion. ¡°I will of course be coming as well.¡± Hogg shook his head. ¡°I thought you at least were better than this. There¡¯s no way you can keep up with us.¡± ¡°I can keep up with Brin,¡± said Zilly. ¡°Can you keep up with this?¡± Hogg turned and rubbed his hands together in excitement. Then he raised both hands and spoke. ¡°¡± A pool of black ink appeared on the road and bubbled up and out like an oil spill. The puddle bulged and grew, expanding into a huge, elephant-sized mass. Then legs came down, bending unnaturally and around until there were three of them and two huge pincers. A tail separated itself out of the mass, growing up and around. In moments, a giant scorpion made of hard light had arisen from the ground. Brin whistled. ¡°Impressive. I thought you didn¡¯t like using the Language, though.¡± Hogg grinned. ¡°It would be a waste to spend all that time around Lumina and not learn anything. Besides, things change. You aren¡¯t looking at a [Shadow Conjurer] any more. I¡¯m a [Shadow Mage].¡± He wasn¡¯t either, probably a [Mage of Hard Light], but Brin wasn¡¯t going to ruin the moment. He slapped Hogg on the back. ¡°What? That¡¯s amazing! Congratulations! We need to celebrate.¡± Hogg smiled like a toddler on Christmas morning. ¡°I know. I gotta say, Epic Classes are a whole new world. It was all those fish monsters we slaughtered. The ocean is full of nasty things, even close to shore. Just wait until I tell you about¨C¡± Lurilan cleared his throat. ¡°Perhaps now is not the time?¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. Hop up!¡± said Hogg. He lifted his arms to the side, and black wings sprang from his back to lift him up and on top of the head of the giant scorpion. It was a bit of an impressive display, at least until Marksi jumped up after him and Hogg picked him up and pulled his jacket around the little dragon to shield him from the wind. Brin and Davi awkwardly climbed up the legs, while Lurilan sprang to the top of the scorpion with a single casual hop, unflustered as if he did this sort of thing every day. The scorpion wasted no time in skittering forward as soon as Brin got on top. He grabbed a hold of the edge of a piece of chitin, and when he did the monster accelerated even faster. The hard light wasn¡¯t completely frictionless, it could be grasped, but it was still very slick, like soapy glass. The scorpion dashed forward. Every time Brin thought he was getting a hang of the black creature¡¯s top speed, it sped up even faster. The trees whipped by to either side, and when the road grew too narrow, the scorpion''s tail streaked forward, quick as lightning, to bend the trees out of the way. There were other travelers on the road, lots of them as they neared Blackcliff, but the scorpion zipped past them, completely ignoring their cries of alarm and shrugging off the arrows or rocks from the few people who reacted quickly enough. The one problem was the wind. He had to hold on tight, just to make sure he wouldn¡¯t go flying off, and he saw from Davi¡¯s white-knuckled grip that he had the exact same issue. Hogg totally could¡¯ve made a vehicle of some kind, with a windshield even, but he¡¯d chosen to make a giant shadow scorpion. And people thought Brin was the child. He tried to yell at Hogg to let him know how silly this was, but the wind carried his words away. He felt the faint tingle that told him Hogg was calling on his sound magic, and then he heard Hogg¡¯s voice. ¡°Just speak normally. We can all hear you.¡± Brin did. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you make a shield for this air, or some proper seats.¡± ¡°I could, but¡­ but that would look stupid!¡± Brin sniffed. ¡°And I¡¯ll grant that this thing moves a lot faster than I expected, but I bet a plane would be even faster.¡± ¡°A what?¡± ¡°A flying machine,¡± said Brin. Hogg shook his head. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get it to work. In the air at least. I cooked up something for traveling underwater that works wonders.¡± ¡°I can attest to that,¡± said Lurilan. Brin watched the surroundings blur by for a while. It was a strange fact of moving fast that no matter how fast you were going, eventually you got used to it and started to wish that you were going even faster. Sure, the road and the nearby trees were moving by so fast it was hard to see, but the horizon didn¡¯t seem to change at all, and neither did the clouds in the sky. Lurilan broke the silence next. ¡°You could have brought them, you know.¡± ¡°What? The kids? You¡¯re kidding. You¡¯re the last person I¡¯d expect to want to bring along a bunch of fool teenagers,¡± said Hogg. Lurilan shrugged. ¡°The way that foolish teenagers grow to become wise adults is through conflict. The best way is to face minor peril under the supervision of competent adults.¡± ¡°Minor peril?¡± asked Brin. ¡°You seem awfully confident that we can beat Aberfa.¡± Lurilan shrugged again. ¡°Actually killing the monster I¡¯m hunting was never the hard part for me.¡± ¡°Then what¡¯s the hard part?¡± Brin asked. ¡°Let me tell you something that my trainer told me. Anyone can kill any monster. I mean that. Levels, Classes, whatever, it doesn¡¯t matter. Levels can be gained, Classes can be earned, equipment can be purchased. If you are willing to do what it takes, to put in the time it takes, you can do it. The pride of mankind isn¡¯t our strong arms or our swords or even our bows. The glory of mankind is intelligence. With time, preparation, the right equipment, and careful planning, the lowest [Washerwoman] can kill even dragons.¡± Marksi made a squeaky harrumph. Other dragons, maybe. He was too clever. ¡°The hard part,¡± Lurilan continued, ¡°has never been killing the monster that I was hunting. The hard part comes in surviving the monsters that I didn¡¯t expect. The ones that are hunting me.¡± Brin gave that some thought, and Davi repeated the words, singing them to himself under his breath. ¡°...levels can be gained.¡± He looked like he forgot that Hogg¡¯s spell was sending everyone his words as he repeated Lurilan¡¯s entire speech. When he noticed them all staring at him, he scratched his head, looking suddenly embarrassed. ¡°Sorry, I just wanted to remember what you said. I never forget anything that counts as music, so I sing it.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± said Lurilan. He turned to Hogg. ¡°Do you really mean to leave them there? At this point they¡¯ll be worn out before we arrive.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t ask them to tag along,¡± said Hogg. ¡°What are you two talking about?¡± Brin asked. Neither seemed keen on answering him, so he activated a directed thread to scout around with an invisible eye. He also cast a sheet of glass for himself to use as a viewscreen. If that short spell Hogg had given him earlier worked, he should be able to project an image onto it. The directed thread returned soon later with a failure; it hadn¡¯t been able to figure out how to combine the spells. He should¡¯ve expected that; directed threads were only good at doing things by rote. He made a regular thread, giving it 10% of his brain space, and let it know it was allowed to use additional resources if it needed them. A minute or two later, he felt the drain on his magic, and saw something appear on the screen. Davi scooted over to watch beside him. The view was insane. As crazy as it was to be on a giant black scorpion, watching it tear down the road from a little bit away was absolutely mind boggling. Hogg wasn¡¯t being subtle here. Had he decided to be more open with his powers? More likely, this was for Brin. Because there was no way to be subtle at the speeds they needed to travel, so he¡¯d sacrificed his anonymity for the sake of Brin¡¯s mission. No, he probably didn¡¯t care about that. He¡¯d done this for the sake of Brin¡¯s closure. He was so caught up in thought that he missed it, but luckily his thread wasn¡¯t caught up in introspection. The image on his glass zoomed in. There was something hanging off the back of the scorpion. Thick green ropes were tied to the back of the scorpion''s tail, holding three irresponsible teenagers. Myra was sweating and pale with mental strain as she fought to keep them together. Sion was hanging on for dear life, his eyes shut and teeth in a grimace. Zilly was trying to hold on to the ropes while also keeping Myra and Sion from falling, three things to grab with only two hands. As he watched, black saws cut the ropes, and then grasping black tentacles shot out from the back of the scorpion to wrap around all three of them. Zilly fought for a moment, but they grabbed her hand and pinned her back against the wall. When she figured out that they were helping her keep from falling rather than something unseemly, she slumped in relief. Myra dropped her ropes, gasping and crying a little in relief, while Sion kept his eyes shut though his mouth started moving, a prayer from the looks of it. Well, they¡¯d probably learned their lesson, whatever that was. ¡°You actually let them come?¡± Brin asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t stop them. There¡¯s a difference.¡± They could see Blackcliff off in the distance. The city was dark; maybe early in the night there would be a galaxy of twinkling lamps, but right now it was an hour before dawn and the city was asleep. It lay in repose upon a steep hill, rising steadily towards the shore, as if no one had thought to tell them that the sea was in that direction. The hill cut off abruptly, into the shape of breathtaking black cliffs, the namesake of the city. They were ominous and otherworldly, and startlingly beautiful in the darkness. Maybe in his old life he would¡¯ve rather seen them in the day, but with his darkvision this was the perfect time. Every detail was visible in the starlight, but no splash of color tried to make the cliffs look anything but black. The cliffs faced the ocean, and black islets jutted out of the water near the shore like towers, stark and somber. Brin¡¯s thread returned, but he sent it out again. This time, he sent his thread to look for the place he found in his dream. Hogg was already starting to turn to curve around the city. Soon, he¡¯d need directions. The glass lit up with a new image as the new invisible eye was cast. Brin watched in a trance, wind rushing by his ears. He saw the landscape leap past as the Invisible Eye surged forward, passing houses and trees, farms and fields, people who were already turning the other way to look at the black scorpion. The image passed walls, buildings, and then suddenly everything was gone and it was soaring out into space over the ocean. It halted, turned the other way, and now it was flying along a path he recognized. He¡¯d seen this path in his dreams. He followed the trail, the direction that he and Lumina had gone, hunting Aberfa in his dreams. He found it. Columns of black cliff, shallow water near the shore. Here. This was the place. ¡°Hogg¨C¡± ¡°I see it,¡± said Hogg. Then Brin followed the path for a third time as Hogg carried them along it. Time seemed to blur by, because before he knew it, they¡¯d stopped and Brin was setting down on the rocky shore of the place he¡¯d seen in his dreams. He heard Myra, Sion and Zilly being let down from the scorpion; one of them retched. He heard Davi saying something to them, but he could scarcely listen to them. His attention was fixed on the water in front of him. It was utterly surreal being in a place that he¡¯d first seen in his dreams. Deja Vu in the worst possible way. Hogg put a hand on his shoulder, but even that didn¡¯t fully snap him out of the eerie feeling. ¡°We searched here. We searched everywhere.¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s down there.¡± Hogg opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Something broke the surface of the water; a head gasping for air. It was Pio. ¡°No. No!¡± Pio gasped. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come on out of there and tell us what¡¯s going on,¡± Hogg called. ¡°No! Not when I¡¯m so close!¡± ¡°Did you kill Zerif?¡± Brin asked. ¡°Pio, why?¡± ¡°He betrayed us! He¡­¡± Pio panted, out of breath. ¡°He called those bandits on us. He directed those bandits! We all came to Frenaria for a new life, a new start, but he still keeps one foot in Prinnash. That alone would be enough. If he were discovered it would lead us all to ruin. But then he goes and attacks his own caravan? He kills good men of Prinnash? I could not bear it.¡± ¡°You made all those monsters attack the caravan. Isn¡¯t that the exact same thing?¡± Hogg asked. Pio tread water, eyes frantically searching the water for something. ¡°It¡¯s different. You were never in any real danger.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem that different to me,¡± said Hogg. ¡°You¡¯ll understand. Soon you¡¯ll understand why. It will all be worth it. You¡¯ll see. I just need to¨C¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen enough,¡± said Hogg. Black bullets flew through the air, but Pio dove underneath the water again before they hit him. Brin expected to see red in the water, or maybe he expected to see Pio being dragged back out and up. Instead, the water started to boil. Just like in his dream, when Lumina boiled the ocean. Had she actually done that, or just said that she could? Either way, it seemed like Pio could, because the ocean started to churn and froth white and bubbling, in a huge circle for a hundred feet in each direction. But Pio didn¡¯t have water powers. He could control beasts; and that¡¯s just what this was. As Brin watched, an army of sea monsters rose up from the depths below. Book 3 - Chapter 59 A huge bulking form distorted the surface of the water, but Brin didn¡¯t even get to see what it was before a wave of black spears from Hogg stabbed it back down. The roiling waters calmed for a moment, but no one was fool enough to think that the fight was over. Brin could still faintly see the dark shadows of creatures beneath the waves. He looked between Hogg and Lurilan and his mind was called to one of his Skills that he often forgot about. Not because it wasn¡¯t good, but because it worked so seamlessly that he often didn¡¯t realize he was using it. [Battle Sense]. And what his Skill was telling him was that neither Lurilan nor Hogg were all that worried. The optimal path to victory would be for both of them to charge into the waves, or better yet shoot arrows and projectiles of hard light into the water. Instead, they were going to wait for the monsters to surface. Either they aimed at letting the teens get some practice in, or they didn¡¯t want to reveal their full power until they had a better idea of what they were up against. Whatever the case, the fact remained that the two heavy hitters weren¡¯t going to take care of everything. Things were going to get exciting really soon. In the last few seconds of quiet, he sent out a directed thread to make an Invisible Eye, find out where Pio was and what he was doing, and then report back. The water started to froth again. ¡°Davi, play my song,¡± said Brin. He hoped his [Bardic] friend remembered the Doom music. ¡°No,¡± said Davi. ¡°I think it¡¯s time to play my song.¡± Brin wasn¡¯t sure what song that was. Did he mean the Natsu theme Brin had done that one time? Davi saw the confusion on his face and grinned. ¡°It¡¯s time to let you in on a little secret about Jeffrey. That guy really doesn¡¯t care about anything other than music. He doesn¡¯t worry about the political situation in Frenaria or anything. The only reason he didn¡¯t start singing the Epic of Hammon¡¯s Bog right away was¡­ because he wanted me to make it.¡± A humanoid fish monster with huge black eyes and a mouth full of shark teeth sprang from the ocean, and immediately took an arrow to the head. ¡°It¡¯s still a work in progress, so don¡¯t judge but¡­ it¡¯s time.¡± The ocean erupted in a frothy spray as dozens of insectile creatures burst from the water. They ran across the surface, unheeding those that fell to Lurilan¡¯s arrows. When they reached the shore, Zilly and Brin ran forward to meet them, and Davi¡¯s song followed them. It started out with a solo, sounding almost like heraldic trumpets. The actual tone was electric and triumphant and full of energy. Brin wouldn¡¯t have guessed that Davi would start a song this way, straight into the action with no build-up, but then again it was practical. If he was going to use this song to boost his friends in a fight, then it needed to start off with a bang. It definitely banged. Brin felt the energy thrum in his body, and his spear effortlessly tore through the monsters as they approached. He flowed smoothly and naturally, instinctually weaving around and through the horde, dealing wounds with every stroke. He wasn¡¯t sure which monster gave him his first death notification; it was difficult to separate them, but he took note that the System called them Giant Water Skeeters. Zilly moved at his side, slashing through the horde with wild abandon. He saw her use an [Overload] to dice a Skeeter in two, then kick both pieces at oncoming opponents. In the brief instant it took them to push the obstacles out of their way, she¡¯d already [Dashed] away to stab yet another Skeeter into the ground. Sion stayed by Davi, keeping his spear at full length to ward them away. The huge thing Hogg had pushed down with spears of hard light groaned deep and so loud it was audible from underwater, and then lifted itself up. Hogg sent his giant black scorpion forward. It lashed out with its stinger, and an enormous hand with webbed fingers rose up from the water to catch it mid-strike. The giant underwater monster rose. A huge toad-like face appeared from the water, then its massive body. Still holding the scorpion¡¯s tail, it slammed into the scorpion with a massive fist, breaking a black leg off at the base. The scorpion pressed forward with both pincers, locking the giant sea monster in a wrestling match. Davi wrapped up the solo and began to sing. ¡°Upon the day the Scarred One came, An orphaned child without a name, We saw in him a premonition, And cast upon him dark suspicion. From that day forth, a curse was cast, For of those who left, none came back. Into the forest, dark and deep, They vanished all, in shadows steep. Arise ye bogland men, go to! I press ahead with comrades true. I shall not dodge nor shift mine stance, With friends beside me I advance. To left or right I will not stray For trust and honor cannot sway. No stepping back and no retreat, For courage in our hearts must beat. A warrior knows but one true course, Forward bound with steadfast force, Attack, ye men of Hammon¡¯s Bog, Towards death and victory through the fog!¡± As Davi wrapped up the first verse, a Skeeter slipped past Sion, aiming at him with claws like scythes. Davi stopped it with a rib-crunching kick and then stomped down to go straight into another solo without missing a beat. Brin and Zilly wore down the Skeeters¡¯ numbers until they switched from trying to swarm to hit and run tactics. Brin stopped being able to catch any of them, and when he started throwing projectiles of glass at them with Language-empowered spells, they dodged those as well. Myra held them down with her threads, and together she and Brin started to take down the stragglers one after another. Only Zilly was quick enough to catch them alone, but they led her into an ambush, trading the life of one of their number for a couple of deep gouges on her sword arm. Another Skeeter went for her neck, and Marksi appeared just in time to bite down on the arm and pull it off target. She [Dashed] back to Myra who immediately started to sew her wound shut. Brin and Sion moved side by side to defend them while she worked. Meanwhile, Lurilan had joined Hogg in taking down the giant. He sent arrows into the monster''s joints, locking its ability to move while the scorpion steadily tore chunks out of its flesh. ¡°Then at night the army came With ranks of dead and black of nameIf you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Beset our gates by fearsome might And we repaired them through the night. Yet tireless was the foe we faced, And fought relentless for our gates. Brave Prefit Elmon, bold and true, Led forth a charge, our spirits grew. And this is what he said: Arise ye bogland men, go to! I press ahead with comrades true. I shall not dodge nor shift mine stance, With friends beside me I advance. To left or right I will not stray For trust and honor cannot sway. No stepping back and no retreat, For courage in our hearts must beat. A warrior knows but one true course, Forward bound with steadfast force, Attack, ye men of Hammon¡¯s Bog, Towards death and victory through the fog!¡± The ocean roiled again as a group of six giant crabs the size of sedans skittered from the surf. At the same time, Brin saw a flicker of movement behind him. Two undead, each about seven feet tall, charged towards them silently with unnerving speed. They had huge eyes, lean bodies, and long claws at the end of each brown-stained finger. He recognized these things, but [Inspected] them just to make sure.
Name Elder Kukubaru
Level 40
Race Undead
Description This variant is known for tearing its favorite snack from the contents of its living victim¡¯s bowels.
Brin thought he could maybe take one of these things, and Myra and Zilly could work together to fight the other, but he had no plan for the crabs. He needed Hogg and Lurilan¡¯s help. What were they even doing? Sion saw the problem, too, and nodded with resolve in his eyes. ¡°Time to break out the expensive stuff. What is money for, if not this?¡± He pulled a golden bottle out of his small satchel and drank it. He immediately puked, and the vomit erupted into flame at his feet. Then his breath ignited, and flame covered his whole body and his spear. It didn¡¯t consume him, somehow, or even singe his clothes. He smiled, and that seemed to heighten the intensity of the fire, making Brin draw back. Sion turned and charged the crabs. They all froze when they felt the heat, and when Sion leapt on top of one it shrieked in pain. He drove his spear straight through its shell, and the crab sizzled and died. The other five scattered, and the remaining Skeeters fled back into the ocean. Sion turned to the others, grinning. Brin summoned a pair of javelins. ¡°¡± The Kukubaru he was aiming at sidestepped both, deforming its own shape to dodge as if it were made of water. Zilly met the other in the air, knocking it back as it pounced. She fought with her off-hand, her right arm dangling uselessly. ¡°Our walls came down, our city burned, Our bravest warriors dead and turned, We huddled few, the scant remains, With weeping wounds and plenty pains, Were set upon by endless hordes, And their mocking, wicked, witchy lords. Til scared the Scarred One lifted large, And hefted blade and led the charge. And this is what he said:¡± The Kukubaru fought with a ferocity like nothing he¡¯d ever faced. It completely ignored the shallow wounds he managed to make in its body and charged forward. While he tried to back up, dodge, and deflect, it swung in quick, unpredictable swipes that seemed to come from every direction at once. He completely gave up attempting to cast any glass magic and focused on staying alive; even so, those first few seconds might have ended him if not for Myra tripping it up with threads. ¡°Help Zilly! I can handle this!¡± Brin shouted. He pushed as much glass magic as he could through his body to summon and shoot a barrage of glass bullets at the undead beast. It probably could¡¯ve run straight through them but it didn¡¯t know that so it backed up and tried to dodge, and took a few superficial wounds. Brin used the brief reprieve to think about this. This was an undead. Why was it here? Pio didn¡¯t have that power. There must be a [Witch] nearby. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he felt it. There was Wyrd everywhere, controlling the Kukubarus and laying curses to disease the flesh of his friends even as they fought. Brin created a thread of regular thought, and gave it twenty percent of his mind. Find her. Time was moving faster for him now, however, and when the Kukubaru charged at him, they both took wounds. That was fine. Brin¡¯s injuries just made him stronger, while the Kukubaru was starting to wear out. With one last burst of effort, he pushed as much glass magic he could into the bullets lodged into the Kukubaru¡¯s body. ¡°¡± He heard a faint whumph and the Kukubaru collapsed.
You have defeated: Elder Kukubaru [40]
Shape Glass leveled up! 33 -> 34
He risked a glance to his friends. Myra had tied down the feet of the other Elder Kukubaru, but Zilly was still having a hard time finishing it off. Sion had killed four of the giant crabs and the other two were keeping their distance. His flame was starting to sputter out. Hogg and Lurilan were pressing the giant sea monster back into the waves. It was all but dead, only a matter of time now. They were doing it. He heard a call from the forest, an angry squeal from a giant hog. Big Ron was crashing through the trees, and an army was at its back. Cherry bears, spinewolves, and a host of other forest creatures were bearing down on them, and he got the feeling that this time it wasn¡¯t to save them. ¡°Arise ye bogland men, go to! I press ahead with comrades true. I shall not dodge nor shift mine stance, With friends beside me I advance. To left or right I will not stray For trust and honor cannot sway. No stepping back and no retreat, For courage in our hearts must beat. A warrior knows but one true course, Forward bound with steadfast force, Attack, ye men of Hammon¡¯s Bog, Towards death and victory through the fog!¡± Hogg¡¯s giant scorpion cracked, shuddered, and then broke apart to disappear in the air. The giant sea monster he¡¯d been fighting was dead. Hogg turned to send a volley of black arrows into the oncoming monster horde. For Big Ron, he sent a pair of shackles to bind him and hold him in place, and the giant boar thrashed and fought, tearing himself free despite Hogg¡¯s considerable magical might. Out of nowhere, Brin¡¯s thread returned, along with a slew of memories. He¡¯d found the trace of Wyrd connecting the Kukubarus to the [Witch] controlling them and then used a directed thread to make an Invisible Eye and follow the Wyrd to the source. He¡¯d connected the image from the Invisible Eye to a pane of glass that he¡¯d summoned at his feet. Looking down, Brin saw it was there. He picked it up, and saw that the image was focusing on the top of one of the black spires; a line of sheer black rock jutting up from the ocean with nothing on top of it. The image wasn¡¯t moving, the directed thread clearly thought that this was where the [Witch] was. She could be hiding. She¡¯d had one illusion-aspect familiar under her command, what¡¯s to say she didn¡¯t have another? He ran to Lurilan who was quickly but calmly sending arrow after arrow into the oncoming monster horde. ¡°Can you hit this?¡± he asked, shoving the glass into the [Hunter¡¯s] face. Lurilan considered for a moment, and then nodded. He turned around, pulled a very expensive-looking arrow from his quiver, aimed, pulled, and loosed. The arrow streaked through the air, and Brin wondered if it was really going to hit. The target had to have been at least half a mile away. If Lurilan could really kill an invisible enemy at this distance¡­ maybe Brin should¡¯ve given more consideration to the [Hunter] Class. The arrow disappeared to Brin¡¯s eyes before it struck, but when it did it exploded, destroying ten feet of solid rock on the tip of the spire. This much power in a Common Class? Lurilan¡¯s Class had to have evolved to Rare by now. He would ask later. ¡°Got her,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°There was a [Witch] up there! Good eye. I didn¡¯t even see her.¡± Brin didn''t see a death notification for her, but he got something else.
Call Light through Glass leveled up! 37 -> 38
¡°You can be a little scary sometimes,¡± Brin said flatly. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you would say such a thing,¡± Lurilan said. Without looking, he loosed three arrows, finishing off the two giant crabs that Sion had been struggling with. Brin just shook his head. His last thread chose that moment to return. This was the directed thread he¡¯d sent to watch Pio, so now he had the memory of watching the [Beast Master] under water. Pio had swum desperately back and forth across the bottom of the sea floor, picking up rocks and setting them down, desperately searching for something. All the time Brin and his friends had been fighting above, Pio had been down here. Brin¡¯s Invisible Eye had also noticed a black ball in the water, one of Hogg¡¯s Visible Eyes. Hogg had been watching this, too. Pio had finally moved one boulder out of place to find a pure white pearl, and once he faintly touched it with his finger it disappeared into a plume of mud that spread out and filled the water around him. Brin¡¯s directed thread hadn¡¯t really understood anything it was seeing; it wasn¡¯t much for any thought at all and the memories had been oddly detached from thought or opinion. Brin wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d seen and the directed thread hadn¡¯t cared. Its assignment had been to follow Pio, and now Pio was gone. It went into the muddy cloud and found that a tunnel had been opened up in the ground below. It followed the tunnel going down, deep into the earth, before leveling off and going up again. His Invisible Eye sensed that it had come into some kind of cave, but he couldn¡¯t see anything even with his darkvision. The thread knew it would need to make light to continue hunting Pio, but wasn¡¯t sure if that was allowed. It had opted to return. ¡°We need to follow him!¡± Brin shouted to Hogg, but more for the benefit of the others. Hogg¡¯s storm of black arrows had mostly halted the advance of the monster horde, but he hadn¡¯t killed them all. Now they were creeping around from behind cover and looking for ways to get close without being seen, and more were arriving every second. Lurilan loosed an arrow that struck a cherry bear right through a poison sac and into its heart, sending it to the ground. ¡°Go. We¡¯ll hold here.¡± Hogg shoved a white pill in Brin¡¯s hand, for water breathing according to his [Inspect]. He washed it down with his last potion of anti-sleep from Calisto. ¡°Come on,¡± said Hogg, and grasped Brin by the arm. Together, they dove down into the deep. Book 3 - Chapter 60 The tunnel below was totally black, even to Brin''s darkvision, and he hardly had any time to get used to breathing underwater. He really was breathing the water, and it was an intense experience. He could feel the cold liquid moving down his trachea, the way it filled his lungs making him feel heavy, how it didn''t push in and out as easily as air. His body panicked; he choked and tried to cough but couldn''t. He would be hyperventilating if he could, but the weight of the water forced his lungs to move slower. He thrashed uselessly in the dark, until he felt a platform under his feet. It started to press him forwards, deeper into the water. "Calm down, that''s me. I''ll carry us both along, no sweat. How are you doing there?" Hogg asked, projecting sound straight into Brin''s skull. "I gave you Water Breathing because it''s a lot easier to get used to than Unbreathing if it''s your first time, but if you can''t handle it just nod and we''ll turn around and have you take the other one." Couldn''t handle it? Brin could handle anything. He forced his mind to calm, forced his arms to stop thrashing and took a deep, slow breath of a-- of water. Brin shook his head. "Good. This tunnel is strange. There''s no telling when we''ll be there. Keep your eyes open." Brin hoped he meant metaphorically, because he''d long since shut his eyes against the rushing water. He tried to think of something that could help. There wasn''t much he could do except make light, and he was hesitant to do that. Hogg must''ve had some way that he was scouting ahead. He probably just had better darkvision from some Achievement. He might not actually have the [Rogue] Class, but it was obvious that he had more than a passing familiarity with that kind of life. Since there wasn''t anything else he could do, he decided to prepare his arguments. He made a thread with half his brain power, and directed it to come up with the best possible words in Language for propelling the enchanted glass spear at his target. Then his main mind would prepare his arguments in the Wyrd. He''d use everything he had against Aberfa right from the start and try to kill her with his strongest attack the moment she showed her scaly face. Time must''ve sped up, but it was hard to tell with no sight or sound. He only had touch left, so the only way to measure time was by the water running past his skin and the rhythm of his slow breaths in his chest. Now that he had gotten used to it, breathing water was oddly... comfortable. There always seemed to be enough oxygen, probably due to the pill, so in a way it felt more natural than breathing air. It almost felt like he was coming home. That reminded him that he was supposed to be preparing an argument. It wasn''t hard. Aberfa wasn''t his mother. His real mother was in his last life, his adoptive mother was Lumina, and his birth mother had been the human that Aberfa used to be. The monster he called Aberfa was nothing to him. He had a duty to mankind to remove a threat. He had a duty to Aberthol to avenge him. He had a duty to himself to eliminate the danger to his life and sanity. He could feel it, his righteousness and anger. His body practically thrummed with the Wyrd. The other thread returned not too long after, and he had his Language as well. Even if Aberfa won in the Wyrd, which she wouldn''t, adding the Language would give him another level of power. Nothing fancy. One throw, one kill. Otherwise, Hogg would probably finish her off before he got the chance. He was ready well before they arrived at their destination, so he fixed the solution in his mind so as not to lose any details of his argument. Then there was nothing left to do but wait in dread and anticipation. He would be sweating nervously, except the cold water wicked all of that away. The deeper they went, the more the pressure of the water bore down on him until there was an acute pain in his ears. He wondered how much his Vitality protected him against water pressure. He''d never dived deep enough to find out. They popped out of the water, taking him by surprise. One moment he was calmly breathing out a lungful of smooth liquid, and the next minute he was gasping and choking on the new air. Breathing water or air was fine, but the mix of both sent him choking and heaving onto the floor. He stumbled forward as the hard light platform disappeared, and blinking the water out of his eyes, he realized he was in a large stone chamber. It stank badly of rotting fish and he immediately saw the bones and remains of several aquatic species. There were signs of exotic plant life here and there, strange mushrooms and flowery vines hung from the ceiling. More than half the floor of the room was water, which swirled and roiled strangely. As for light, he could see, but didn''t know for sure where the source of light was coming from. It was just barely bright enough for his darkvision to make out the main details. Pio was there. The [Beast Master] stood facing one group of the flowery vines. He shot a hand out at Brin and Hogg when he saw them arrive to warn them back. "Wait! I''m almost finished and then all will be clear!" Brin wasn''t in any condition to speak, as he was still hacking the water out of his lungs, but if he could he would''ve told Pio that things were already pretty clear. He hoped he was wrong about what Pio was doing, but he was pretty sure he wasn''t. "Please. Please! Now is the time. I have done all that was required. Now submit to me. Your power is mine to command. You are mine!" Brin wanted to sigh. Instead he struggled to his feet and hefted his spear. In a coughing, shaky voice he muttered. "So Grendle said to Eli. You have done all I asked and so from this day forward I am yours. I am your Master." Hogg didn''t speak, but nodded to show he also remembered the [Puppeteer¡¯s] story. "No. NO!" Pio took a step back, then fell backwards as denial changed to despair. "No..." Brin [Inspected] him, and the notification flickered as if it were unsure.
Name Pio Melo
Age 34
Level 45
Class Beast Master
Brin tried again. The notification responded more slowly this time.
Beast Master
He canceled the Skill and then activated it one last time. The popup appeared immediately.
Beast Slave
Hogg threw a bolt of hard light at Pio, and an ear-piercing shriek blasted it to pieces. A black curtain of hard light filled the space between the two of them and the rest of the cavern, cutting off Brin''s view of what was happening. Another scream came, crumbling the edges of the wall, breaking it down bit by bit. Hogg chanted, "" All sound ceased. Brin felt Hogg¡¯s sound magic create a powerful wall, rebuffing all sound-based attacks. It was layered; the outside opposed all sound while the inside reproduced a vacuum where sound couldn''t pass. He must''ve chanted it out loud for Brin''s benefit. Brin immediately started a directed thread on reproducing that spell to protect himself. Everything was silent, but that didn''t mean nothing was happening. Hogg¡¯s black wall crumbled and then broke apart, and Brin could feel the sound barrier giving way as well, all under the power of a violent, unceasing scream. Hogg sent a volley of spears to strike at Pio, then a giant hammer, then a thousand little bullets. All of them were dashed to nothingness before they reached him. Pio clearly wasn''t the source of the scream, but Hogg must''ve been focusing on him due to his Class. As a [Beast Master], he had Skills to directly empower the monsters under his control. Brin would be willing to bet that a [Beast Slave] empowered the monster controlling him. He didn''t need to look for her long; she''d been there the entire time. The flowery vines detached themselves from the walls, and a huge ugly mass of limbs climbed down from the ceiling. Those weren''t flowers at all, but growths like sea anemones that dotted the tentacles in place of suckers. To be honest, he''d expected a mermaid-like creature, but this wasn''t humanoid at all. Beautiful, in its way, but also strange and somewhat tragic. There was no face. If she had eyes, he couldn''t see them. No ears, but a loud voice to yell orders and a hundred limbs to put a finger in every pie.
Monster Matriarch (50)
This is the matriarch of the race "Aberfan Siren". She hunts using shockwaves that stun or kill fish in the water. Additionally, any creature that hears her scream is subject to her invasion of their dreams, allowing her to hunt land animals by luring them to the water.
Her scream was unceasing, seeming to not need to take a breath, and getting louder by the second. The terrible sound scoured the stone and dashed Hogg''s constructs into nothingness. He kept summoning missiles to send against her, but they broke apart before they could get close. He packed glass magic into his spear, and it drank freely, seeming to be able to take in endless amounts of mana. This is what he had made it for, but it still shocked him how greedy it could be. In the moment it took him to chant his spell, it drained half of his mana pool. "¡± The spear shivered in anticipation. Brin took one last moment to firm up his argument, reinforcing his hatred now that he could add Pio to the list of victims. He hated the fear, the never knowing what would happen when he fell asleep. He hated the late nights, the early mornings, and working with half his brain because of the exhaustion. He hated the torture. He hated what she''d done to Cadwy and Aberthol. He hated how small she made him feel. He hated her. "" he shouted. Time seemed to slow down as the spear hurtled towards Aberfa. He saw Hogg try to clear the path with a quick black shield that hit the shockwave in front of the spear before breaking apart. He saw Pio try to stand and shield Aberfa with his body, only some part of him was resisting and his jerky movements were too slow. He saw Aberfa recoil, trying to move, too late. He saw his spear, gliding forward, cutting through the sound, glistening in the faint light. He saw his spear crack... and break. For a millisecond outside of time everyone froze in shock, but Aberfa recovered first and yelled with a wave of sound that flung the broken pieces of the spear in every direction. She pinned the full force of her power on Hogg, pushing him against the wall and dragging him up and down in a furious attempt to end him. He bled from his eyes and ears but didn''t falter in bringing his magic against her in a vain attempt to push her back. With terrible effort he brought one hand to his back where he pulled out one of his black shortswords.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Swiping downward, he somehow cut through Aberfa''s magic, and then in a flash there were three Hoggs. One real one, and two Mirror Images made of hard light. Brin knew which was the correct one right away, but Aberfa didn''t. She focused the full force of her scream into the one in the middle, destroying it instantly, but she''d chosen wrong. The real Hogg was running to the right, flinging bottles and firing wands, burning through his consumables. Still stunned by the failure of his spear, Brin forced himself to start thinking again. Hogg was fighting to the right, which meant that Brin had a clear path to Pio on the left. The thread that Brin had created with instructions to copy Hogg''s sound shield returned with clear instructions on how to reproduce it. That gave Brin an idea. He sent out another directed thread to make the shield, but telling it to make a bubble around him and Pio, then he ran towards the still-prone [Beast Slave]. As he ran towards Pio, he summoned a small glass dagger in his hand. When he arrived next to him, the sight of Brin with the dagger seemed to shock Pio out of his stupor. "Ha. You really think you could?" Brin shrugged. "Not really. I''ve seen you fight. But I have to try, don''t I?" Their voices were oddly muted as any sound that hit Brin''s bubble was instantly snuffed out. Only the wail of Aberfa could be heard, at almost bearable levels. But Brin could hear well enough. "Doesn''t matter. I can help you. The problem is levels, yes? Then let me help." Pio took a deep breath, hesitating, then let it out. "Kukubaru, kukubaru, kukubaru." Brin knew it had worked when he saw the pain in Pio''s eyes. That was a very particular type of pain, and you couldn''t understand it unless it had happened to you. He used [Inspect].
Name Pio Melo
Age 34
Level 0
Class Forced Class selection in progress.
"Give her one from me, yes?" Pio wheezed. "I will. Thank you." The effect on Aberfa was immediate. The overpowering shout dwindled in power now that her [Beast Slave] wasn''t funneling his power into her anymore. Hogg''s sound shield now held against her, and some of his weapons of hard light took nicks out of her flesh. She twisted and fought, lashing out at him with her twisted limbs, but melee combat was Hogg''s specialty and he punished every attempt. She began to withdraw, fighting backwards towards the water at the back of the cavern. Brin honestly wasn''t sure if she''d make it or not. Hogg was gaining a lot of ground, giving her wounds and trying to cut her off, but she was still a level 50 Monster Matriarch. She might escape, and if she did, he was certain he''d never get another chance at this. Why had his spear failed? Nothing else he tried would work unless he knew why he''d failed. If his spear broke it should''ve exploded, releasing all the pent-up energy. Why had it just... fallen down? He knew the answer in the Wyrd. Because that was his mother over there. Not his real mother, maybe. Not his only mother, definitely. But he''d used that word with her and he''d meant it, and that undermined every other argument. A man like Brin could not kill his mother with hatred in his heart. Seeing his hesitation, Pio picked something off the ground, and handed it to Brin. It was a piece of his spear, two feet of haft with a jagged, broken end. All his power was still in there, waiting to be released. Brin took the spear with a grateful nod. He dismissed his threads; he needed his full mind for this argument if he was going to pull it off. The argument had failed because that wasn''t who he was. It was stupid, he knew, but if he had ended things like that, some part of him would have regretted it for the rest of his life. It wasn¡¯t that the argument was false; he¡¯d agreed with every part of it with his whole heart. The problem was that it was¡­ dark. So much hatred and revulsion. Was there no place in that argument for the fact that there were a few things about Aberfa he also liked? That was the problem. It wasn¡¯t wrong, but it was incomplete. He didn¡¯t just hate Aberfa, there was more, as much as it shamed him to admit it. He¡¯d laughed at her jokes, he¡¯d listened to her opinions, he¡¯d studied at her feet. He understood her, too. She¡¯d become exactly what her society had told her was best and it had ruined her. He pitied her. That was the key. He knew what his argument had to be. He spoke, pushing his voice towards Aberfa with sound magic, so that their Wyrd would clash and his words would be carried to her. "Aberfa. I understand now. One cannot complete a mission of Filial Piety without paying due respect to his parents. But now my parents are fighting, so I will take a cue from your nation and act as Mediator. Never fear, I will not weigh my father¡¯s desires against yours. I will mediate for you alone. I will do what''s best for you." Aberfa turned her full attention on him, blasting him with her shout. Hogg could''ve taken the opening and finished her, but instead he moved his hard light and shields of sound to protect Brin. Brin stepped forward. "At first glance, I might think that the best thing I can do for you here is to aid your escape. But no one wants that. You don¡¯t even want that. You don''t want to be a monster for the rest of your life, and whatever happens here you''ve lost your chance to capture me. Arcaena will never forgive you. You will never be a [Witch] again." He kept moving forward, closer. The conflicting magics rent the stones on the floor, but Brin didn''t trip. "It''s true, I could turn myself in. I could let you torture me and accept your plan. You claim that you hurt me because you are doing what you think is best for me. But that''s not what''s best for you. I would forget everything, but you, you would remember. You would always remember that your husband never loved you back. You would always remember the things that you did to your son. Your son that you loved! You would always know what you are. You can pretend that you''ve separated yourself from your dark side; you haven''t. You can pretend that you don''t care, that it doesn''t bother you; you do. It does. You are in torment." Aberfa struggled and fought, drawing closer to the water. She was shaking herself out of Hogg¡¯s control and nearly free. Brin walked at a slow, but inevitable pace, building the Wyrd. "Don¡¯t you see? I¡¯m doing this for your own good. It wouldn¡¯t be right for you to have to live an entire life remembering what you¡¯ve suffered, what you¡¯ve lost, and what you¡¯ve done. Aberfa, I forgive you for everything and wish for you only the best. I¡¯m giving the only thing I have to give you. I¡¯m giving you mercy.¡± Aberfa¡¯s front limbs reached the water. She started to pull herself underneath, and the black chains of hard light that Hogg used to hold her back began to crack. It was now or never. Brin didn¡¯t shout, almost regretting the words of Language he needed to say. ¡°¡± He threw. The spear released from his fingers as if fired from a cannon, finally free of any kind of doubt. One last scream from Aberfa struck him at the same time that his spear flew through her body. This one was different, instead of trying to break him down or push him into sleep, it was a messy, frenetic mashup of shapes, voices and images. He¡¯d stored this entire fight in glass, though, so he could look at it later. For now, the only thing he could think about was the System message in front of his eyes. It was over.
You have slain: Monster Matriarch (50)
Extra experience is rewarded for defeating a monster above your level. Experience split between party members.
An Achievement has been upgraded.
Monster Hunter II -> Monster Hunter IV
You have defeated more than 65 monsters and have slain the Matriarch of a monster species.
+10% growth to all attributes -> +20% growth to all attributes. Improved resistance to sound-based attacks. Improved travel speed under water. Improved Monster Sense - You may now sense monster intentions through the Wyrd, even when no clash of magic is present.
You have earned a new Achievement!
Dreamguard
You have defended your dreams against a powerful monster.
Dramatically improved resistance against mental and soul manipulation while sleeping. You need less sleep for full restfulness. You can control your dreams.
Level up! 35 -> 36
+5 Strength +1 Dexterity, +2 Vitality, +2 Magic, +3 Mental Control, +1 Will, +2 free attributes.
Level up! 36 -> 37
+5 Strength +1 Dexterity, +2 Vitality, +2 Magic, +3 Mental Control, +1 Will, +2 free attributes.
You have 3 free General Skill points. Assign them now?
Before he could celebrate, there was something he needed to do. He fell to his knees, careful not to fall all the way to his face. He was exhausted, but he had enough left in the tank for this at least. He began with the rote prayer that Elion the priest had given him. ¡°Sancta Solia, Sancta Maxima Solia, you guard the river and stand at the gate. Nourisher of fields and protector of the mothers of children. Praise be to your love and praise be to your peace. ¡°Guide this woman, Aberfa, on her journey, great Solia. She has done many wrongs and suffered terribly for them. Let all guilt pass from her as her life passes from this world. Send her somewhere else, somewhere new. Someplace where she won¡¯t have to be Aberfa anymore. Amen.¡± He didn¡¯t know if Solia would listen to his prayer. He had no clue what happened in the afterlife, except that some people got isekai¡¯d. He also didn¡¯t much care. If Solia wanted to punish Aberfa then it wouldn¡¯t be on his account. He was done with her. He stood, feeling a little silly, but that¡¯s how he always felt praying when people were listening. Well, who cared what they thought? Anyone who had never killed the mother of the dead child whose body they¡¯d been reincarnated into, couldn¡¯t understand. There was one more notification he was expecting. It didn¡¯t come. Silence descended on the cavern, though his ears were ringing. Everything was still, except for the water. That was still roiling in the odd, unnatural way. Brin created a ball of light and hung it in the air and heard a chorus of screams. Tiny little wails, like Aberfa¡¯s, but with none of the power behind it. The pool behind Aberfa was full of little creatures all made of tentacles. He [Inspected] one.
Aberfan Siren (juvenile)
¡°Oh, Nedramus¡¯ Beard!¡± shouted Hogg, figuring it out at the same time. He cast a flurry of black spikes into the water, but it was too late, the herd of little creatures were already fleeing. Hogg could kill all the ones here, but no one could tell how many had already escaped into the ocean. No one but the gods.
Alert! Optional hidden mission failed. Mission 3.5: Prevent a new evil from entering the world by destroying your monstrous half-siblings.
That was¡­ a little unfair, wasn¡¯t it? Well, whatever. He wasn¡¯t in the mood to be rebellious after his attempt at an earnest prayer, so he let this one go. In all honesty, he probably would¡¯ve gotten the optional Mission if he¡¯d treated this whole thing with a bit more urgency. He¡¯d puttered along for two months, stringing Aberfa along and stretching things out, although he wasn¡¯t quite clear on what he could¡¯ve done differently. Something to think about another day; the messages weren¡¯t over.
Mission Succeeded. Mission 3: Free your mother from her abominable fate.
Reward granted: Filial Piety upgraded.
You receive Mental Fortitude to always know what must be done.
+100% Mental Control attribute growth.
He remembered the first time [Filial Piety] had given him the choice of three options. Looks like he would eventually get all three. The next one was Strength, and all he had to do was let his half-siblings know how Cadwy died. A letter would probably do, but he didn¡¯t think it would be appropriate. He¡¯d visit them in person. Hogg stepped up to him. ¡°Come on. We should head back up before your pill of Water Breathing wears out. You can read your notifications later.¡± Brin remembered the horrible feeling of the water filling his lungs and shuddered. ¡°Do I have to?¡± ¡°I guess not. You could live down here if you want.¡± Hogg tossed Brin the head of his broken spear, still thrumming with power. Brin wasn¡¯t sure what to do with it, but decided to bring it back anyway. He took one second look back, and noticed Pio. The man looked utterly defeated, and his lower stats from being level one again didn¡¯t do much to protect him from the cold or heal his injuries. He was pale, bleeding in several places, and his lips were blue and chattering. ¡°What about him?¡± ¡°Take me up to prison or leave me here to die. It makes no difference,¡± said Pio. ¡°Well, come on then,¡± said Hogg, and pulled another Water Breathing pill from his pocket. ¡°Better take one of these.¡± Brin helped him to the water, and together the three of them made their ascent. Book 3 - Chapter 61 Expelling all the water from his lungs wasn¡¯t any easier the second time. He didn¡¯t puke because there was nothing in his stomach, but the sensation was the same, as well as a panicked feeling like he was drowning, suffocating, sneezing, and hiccupping all at the same time. He tried to see what was going on, but couldn¡¯t force his eyes open until the last of the water was coughed out of his lungs. He¡¯d be sure to ask Hogg to practice using Unbreathing pills. He never wanted to go through this again. When he finally stood, breathing wet but normal breaths, he saw that the Blackcliff Watch had arrived. That was no surprise¨Cthis was right outside the city. What was a surprise was that they weren¡¯t shouting, giving orders or arresting anyone. ¡°Give them some space, please. They are friends. We¡¯ll all have time to answer your questions, but you must give us a moment to collect ourselves,¡± said Sion, and to Brin¡¯s shock, the Watch obeyed. They nodded and took a step away from Hogg and Brin, and busied themselves by surveying the damage and counting the dead monsters everywhere. The whole area was a wrecked battlefield. Monster corpses littered the ground and floated in the water. Lurilan walked from corpse to corpse, retrieving his arrows. He was completely pristine from head to toe, no sign of dirt and not a drop of sweat. Brin¡¯s other friends looked wrecked, but gladly all still accounted for. Sion had taken a few new scratches since Brin had seen him last, but looked energetic and somewhat excited. Zilly was covered with wounds and lay on her back, while Myra and Davi looked tired but hadn¡¯t taken injuries that he could see. ¡°Sion. Why can you give orders to the Blackcliff Watch?¡± Brin asked. One of the Watch raised his gauntleted head so fast that it made his helmet clink and he gave Brin a hard stare, but still didn¡¯t say anything. Sion raised his hands in conciliation. ¡°No one is giving orders! My apologies Captain; my friend has completely failed to understand. I¡¯m only making polite suggestions, that¡¯s all, as an interested party. I have no desire to interfere with this investigation. Not at all! And the Watch has no desire to offend the Wogan Mercantile Group. There¡¯s no reason we can¡¯t all get what we want, is there?¡± ¡°Should I have heard of the Wogan Mercantile Group?¡± Brin asked Davi. Davi shook his head in disbelief. ¡°Sancta Solia, Brin!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to find out this way,¡± said Sion. A sob interrupted their conversation. Pio, who¡¯d been staring stunned at the carnage now fell to his hands and knees on the ground, tears streaming from his face. He wept openly, uninhibited as a child, and Brin stood next to him awkwardly. What could he say? All these dead animals really were his fault. The guards all turned suddenly, their hands going to their weapons, and Brin turned to see what they were afraid of. Big Ron stood a distance away in the trees, and he¡¯d begun moving forwards. He was much smaller now, pony-sized rather than the giant he¡¯d been before, and he was covered with loose ropes that had been driven into the ground with arrows. Brin put together that rather than kill him, Lurilan and his friends had tied the giant boar down, restraining him. Then when Pio had reset his Class, the boar had shrunk and now the ropes were so loose he could simply step out of them. Big Ron walked over to Pio and pressed his snout against his face, sniffing. Pio laughed. ¡°Ah ha! We are still friends? I have no power to give you strength.¡± Big Ron oinked. That seemed to give Pio the power to stand, and he did so, wiping his eyes. ¡°It is well. [Beast Master] is a stupid Class. It is a sick Class in a sick System. When you really love animals, when you understand them and are good with them, then people will give you the job of killing the animals.¡± Pio began to walk away. The Watch looked at Sion with questions in their eyes as to whether they should go after him and arrest him. Brin was also curious. Sion lowered his trademark smile for only an instant and said under his breath, ¡°Zerif got what he deserved.¡± Brin nodded, and that was that. He gave one last glance at Pio, using [Inspect] to see what Class the System had given him.
Name Pio Melo
Age 34
Level 1
Class Druid (Epic)
Pio was never one to wear a shirt, and now he kicked the boots off his feet. He walked, side by side with his best friend, away into the forest. That reminded Brin that he still hadn¡¯t checked on his own best friend. He started to dart around, looking frantically, until Davi noticed the worry in his eyes and pointed. Marksi was sprawled out on a rock, belly distended and fast asleep. The remains of some horrible ocean thing that looked like a cat crossed with a toad and was covered with bright venomous-looking spikes lay beside him. It looked like Marksi had eaten half his body weight of strange monster fish and then passed out. Pretty normal dragon stuff. The Watch had questions for all of them, and Brin followed Hogg¡¯s lead in answering or evading them, such as the case may be. He wanted nothing more than to collapse in the sand and have a nap, but had to deal with the aftermath. After a while, the Watch turned more of their questions to the ¡°real¡± adults, namely Hogg and Lurilan, giving the rest of them a chance to sneak away. Zilly slipped away first, without anyone noticing. Myra politely asked if she could step away, and when the captain impatiently nodded, Brin walked away as well. Sion managed to slip away shortly after that. Soon, the five of them walked down the shore. After they got past the dead monsters, it was quite scenic, and a beautiful morning. ¡°I¡¯m glad I decided to see this to the end, though the transportation method left something to be desired. Hanging from the tail end of a giant scorpion. No one will believe me when I tell this tale!¡± said Sion. ¡°Why did you decide to come?¡± Zilly asked. ¡°You¡¯re not really a fighting type Class. You could¡¯ve given that potion to me or Brin and helped just as much.¡± Sion nodded. ¡°This is true. You know, when I left home I hoped that I would find an adventure. I took every precaution to ensure a quick and short journey; my parents would accept nothing less, but I still hoped. But then a real adventure dropped straight into my lap. How could I not see it to the end? Even if I did not always know what it was about.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°I suppose I owe you an explanation,¡± said Brin. He really didn¡¯t want to explain anything. He really didn¡¯t want to. But was that just his Class talking? They deserved to know. ¡°I think we pieced together most of it,¡± said Zilly. ¡°First, Hogg told us there was a monster attacking you in your sleep. We figure it was a familiar of another [Witch] from Arcaena who wanted revenge for you killing Siphani. Then we fought that [Witch] with the Wisp familiar. That was the monster''s master, right?¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°No, that was something else. The monster attacking my dreams used to be a [Witch], but she changed herself too much and lost her Class.¡± ¡°Hey, is it true your name used to be Aberthol?¡± asked Zilly. ¡°Who told you that?¡± asked Brin. ¡°So it is true!¡± said Zilly. ¡°I think Aberthol is a very nice name,¡± said Myra. ¡°Much nicer than Brin.¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not my name, though. Aberthol is dead.¡± ¡°Oh, right, I know! I wasn¡¯t saying¡­ It¡¯s a nice name, is all!¡± Myra said, looking flustered. Brin decided he could say a bit more, just to fight against the pressure his Class was putting on his personality. ¡°There¡¯s one key detail you guys are missing, though. The monster who used to be a [Witch] also used to be m¨C Aberthol¡¯s mother.¡± That drew a round of gasps, and the crew all stared at him in shock, wide-eyed. Then Zilly narrowed her eyes and slugged Brin in the shoulder. ¡°Oh please! Shut up. She was not.¡± The tension released as all four of them burst into laughter. ¡°You really had me going!¡± said Sion. ¡°Unbelievable, Brin. Inappropriate!¡± said Myra. ¡°Cheesy storyline straight out of one of Gustaff¡¯s movies,¡± Zilly said with finality. Only Davi said nothing. Brin smiled and shrugged. Some day he¡¯d tell them all the full story. Baby steps. ¡°What I want to know is what lies in Blackcliff?¡± asked Sion. ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Brin. ¡°You faced monsters, bandits, and danger of every sort. You withstood deprivation and stayed steadfast, nothing swaying, all in service to your quest to get to Blackcliff. What I want to know is what¡¯s so important that you would risk anything to get there?¡± Brin, Zilly, Myra, and Davi all looked at eachother, waiting for the others to respond. Davi went first. ¡°Nothing in particular. Another city is another stage. That¡¯s the life of a [Bard].¡± A quick [Inspect] told Brin that Davi had misspoken. The big guy wasn¡¯t a [Bard] anymore.
Name Davi Pimental
Age 14
Level 35
Class Skald
¡°Nothing for me. I¡¯ll probably just find another caravan from here,¡± said Myra. Zilly answered, ¡°I¡¯m just here because you guys are here.¡± ¡°Hogg has some business here, but it¡¯s the first of many,¡± said Brin. Sion deflated. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be in town for a few weeks at least,¡± Brin added, trying to reassure him. ¡°And then it¡¯s probably Prinnash for me. I need to tell some people what happened to their father to finish one of my Achievements.¡± Davi and Myra traded glances at that. Davi firmed his expression and looked back to Brin. ¡°Right. We¡¯ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I can¡¯t go to Prinnash.¡± Brin felt his stomach sink a little. Of course he knew that his friends weren¡¯t going to follow him around forever. There would be times where their lives took them in different directions. But did it have to be now? ¡°Why not?¡± he asked. ¡°Because my home is in Hammon¡¯s Bog! Even if I did want to take off for another country, I have to go where Jeffrey goes. I still have a lot to learn.¡± said Davi. ¡°We all do,¡± said Myra as she fiddled with the unbreakable thread that she¡¯d woven back into a bracelet on her wrist. ¡°We¡¯re gaining levels like crazy, but that¡¯s going to stop now that we¡¯re all past thirty. The people that really go the distance are the ones who have a strong foundation. We need teachers, and we need to know all the little things that you can¡¯t pick up from simply following your Skills. We need an education, the kind you must have gotten in Arcaena. Weaving is something I can sort of learn by doing, but fate¡­ is not the same.¡± Brin couldn¡¯t argue with that. His Class¡¯s utility was going to explode in the next few weeks now that he had [Multithreading], mostly because now he could utilize all the things he learned in his past life. But what sort of education did [Weavers] get? He tried to think of the thing Aberfa had said way back when. She¡¯d talked about some secret of [Weavers], about why Myra should have [Thread Mastery] instead of [Thread Manipulation]. What was that word again? ¡°Snathain.¡± Myra¡¯s head snapped up. ¡°How do you know about that?¡± ¡°I just heard the word once.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t know about that.¡± ¡°What is it? A secret school for [Weavers]?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Well if it was, then it would have to be a secret, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± said Myra. ¡°I could tag along to Prinnash,¡± said Zilly. ¡°Thanks,¡± said Brin. ¡°And I would be delighted to act as your guide in my homeland,¡± said Sion. ¡°Assuming our schedules cooperate. I¡¯ll have to bow to the will of my family, now that I¡¯ve been so brazen about utilizing our name and reputation.¡± The young [Merchant] launched into a long explanation of the duties he would be expected to assume now that he was done with his relatively anonymous adventure. Writing reports, counting stock, filing paperwork, attending dinners and parties with nobility, reading inventory lists. Half of it sounded like chores and half of it sounded like humble bragging, and the rest of them teased him and commiserated in equal measure. Brin was relieved that no-one made a huge deal out of the fact that Sion was apparently very rich, but then again, no one had made a big deal out of the fact that Brin was rich, either. He should¡¯ve expected it; these were good Hammon¡¯s Bog people, not dirty, envious city folk. It was a nice day, and all the more valuable for the fact that moments like this would soon be gone. Sooner than he would¡¯ve liked, they went their separate directions. Sion went straight to Blackcliff, apparently he had an uncle there, and the rest of them began the slow walk back to the caravan. Hogg declined to provide them with a giant black scorpion to ride on, so it was doubtful that they would even arrive before nightfall. They still needed to go, though. Their things were there, and they still needed to look through Zerif¡¯s wagon. Brin needed to know for sure on whose behalf Zerif had tried to kidnap him. The walk back was mostly silent. Zilly and Davi looked as tired as he felt. Only Lurilan seemed to have any kind of energy, but he also seemed to prefer silence to chatter. Marksi woke up once in Brin¡¯s arms just to make a happy squeak, pat his still-full belly, and go back to sleep. With nothing else to do, Brin went back over that last [Memory in Glass]. The mass of shapes, sounds and images that Aberfa had pushed into his mind as she was dying. Just as he thought, it was a long message in fast-forward. He slowed it down and then let it play in his mind as he walked. Aberfa stood before him in a blank white room. No particular light source was visible, but she still cast a black shadow on the ground behind her. ¡°I curse you.¡± Brin sniffed in derision. Of course she did. This was just a recording, so she couldn¡¯t see how absolutely not shocked he was that she¡¯d chosen to be petty and mean with her last words. He paused for a moment to wait for a notification or some sign of Wyrd, but there was none. Even in her last moments, it seemed that Aberfa forgot she wasn¡¯t a [Witch] anymore. ¡°I am your mother and you slay me. For that, you receive my curse. I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised. You were always ungrateful. I hope you know¡­ I hope you know that we could¡¯ve had everything. The worst part is the pity. You pity me? You? Disgusting. ¡°But I am a forgiving woman, so I will bless you as well. Let me give you one last warning. You cannot stop Arcaena. There was a moment when perhaps her plans could¡¯ve been undone, if the right warning had reached the right ears in time. That time was two years ago when I rebelled. Now it¡¯s too late. Your best chance to live a long life is to accept her rule. But I know you won¡¯t do that, so I¡¯ll tell you what you must fear. ¡°Fear my sister Thesa. She is no great one, but when she learns of what you have done to me, she will hate you. Fear the [Great Witch] Arnarra, for she succeeded where I failed, and the [Witch Mage] Sana, for she fears no [Archmage]. Fear the [Dread Witch] Namys, greatest in Arcaena¡¯s court. Fear Jhaartael the [Mage Hunter Commander], if not for yourself, then for those you love. Fear Zaff the Wight, first risen of Arcaena. Fear Tarasynora the Vampire who walks in the sun. Fear the Nine [Witches] of the gray cavern, who share one eye between them. Fear Keetes the [Ringleader] and his cadre of [Illusionists]. Fear Maggart the Giant, who was good in life but now is great in death. Fear Sable the Living Shadow who treads on lower ground. Above all, fear her. Fear Arcaena. She is mightier than you know.¡± With that, Aberfa¡¯s last words were over. Brin obeyed her last wishes, and feared. Book 4 - Chapter 1 Brin heard a loud rap on the door to his workshop. Bad timing, hopefully they would go away. He was making glass. He waved his hand inside the glass oven to get a feel for the temperature before shutting the door. He still couldn''t touch the molten glass without getting burned, but [Heat Resistance] was more than enough for protecting him against the heat of the oven in brief doses. The oven still wasn''t quite hot enough. Sure, he could pour a ridiculous amount of mana into the glass in the oven to heat it that way, but he wanted the furnace to be able to do it. That was the whole point of the furnace. Ademir and then Ademsi had never had any trouble getting the furnace hot enough. What was he missing? He would try spying on the other [Glassers] in town, but they all had Skills for this. A complete waste, in his mind. The knocking on his door came again, louder and more insistent. It was a bit of a surprise, because shouldn''t his Invisible Eyes have warned him someone was nearby? With a mental slap to his forehead, he realized his Invisible Eyes probably had warned him. He''d turned off his notifications while he''d been concentrating on glassmaking. In the five weeks they¡¯d been in Blackcliff, he¡¯d progressed in his Class by leaps and bounds. He hadn''t actually leveled up, but he''d done very well on his Skills and attributes. His biggest leap had been Mental Control now that he had a boost for training it, but there were some other notable advancements. Strength: 214 -> 216 Dexterity: 155 -> 156 Vitality: 187 -> 189 Magic: 196 -> 202 Mental Control: 224 -> 236 Will: 144 -> 147 Inspect: 37 -> 40 Hide Status: 15 -> 21 Athletic Training: 33 -> 35 Shape Glass: 34 -> 39 Summon Glass: 27 -> 28 Call Light through Glass: 38 -> 45 Call Sound through Glass: 34 -> 38 With [Multithreading] the number of things he could actually do with his illusion powers had increased exponentially, and that in turn had helped him gain levels in his Skills. He didn¡¯t have a Lightmind yet, but he was well on his way to creating one himself. He now always had several threads of thought working in the background, doing things like keeping watch with Invisible Eyes and logging everything in a shared storage created with [Memories in Glass]. But that only helped if he remembered to check the log now and again. He pulled up his active log¡ªa self-generated notification screen only visible to him now that Hogg had found the spell for it. ... DT1: Two men approach the workshop on foot. DT1: Two men arrive at the door of the workshop. DT1: Two men have a conversation on the doorstep of the workshop. Conversation has been logged to ¡°Log DT1 - Local¡±. Directed thread is unable to summarize conversation. Activate conscious thread? DT1: Resource limit has not been reached. Activating conscious thread. CT2: Oh, ok, this is Sion and a [Warrior] I don''t recognize. The image is up on Screen 1 if you want to take a look, but it''s probably safe to just open the door. Returning. [Multithreading] could make two kinds of threads. Normal threads were just his regular mind, but there were also directed threads. DT1 thread was an example of those. Directed threads could run with extreme efficiency, but the trade-off was that they weren''t able to do anything except a single focused task. If they ran into anything that actually required decision making or creativity, they¡¯d fall apart unless a different thread could work out the issue for them. Directed threads had been born of merging [Directed Meditation] into [Multithreading], but they didn¡¯t work exactly like his mind had while using [Directed Meditation]. They were much more limited with creativity, but more flexible with the kind of instructions he could give them. He could tell them things like ¡°Once per second, check the logs to see if there are any new instructions for you¡± and they¡¯d be able to do it without losing much efficiency, while during [Directed Meditation] he¡¯d never have been able to switch his focus back and forth like that. DT1 hadn''t been able to understand whatever Sion and the other guy behind the door were talking about, so it had created the other kind of thread. This one had his full intelligence, but it used up a lot more of his brain power. When one of those was running, it felt like time was speeding up, though the truth was a lot more complicated. Now that CT2 had returned, he had the memories of spying on Sion and the [Warrior] as they argued. Sion wanted to try the door, but the other guy had insisted this must be the wrong address. Sion had gotten his way, and the other guy was knocking. Brin caught his reflection in a mirror; there were lots of them around, and noted the black scorch marks on his face. He left it. He didn''t want to dirty another rag. He opened the door, and found that yes, this was a complete stranger. Of Prinnashian descent by the look of him, his straight black hair was cut short and he wore a smart uniform. Or maybe dress clothes designed to look like a uniform; there didn''t seem to be any rank insignia. "Good day. If I may introduce myself, I am Sir Rhun Charlik," the man said formally, and then when he took in Brin''s shabby appearance and maybe used [Inspect] to find out his Class was Common [Glasser], his voice began to take on a sneering tone. "Step aside. I have business inside." Brin shook his head, trying to shake away the lingering thoughts of glassmaking and focus on the oddity in front of him. "Sorry. Who are you?" "I''m Sir Rhun Charlik, a [Warrior] of Prinnash and a true man. I must enter this workshop. Step aside." Rhun tried to force the issue by walking through Brin, but Brin stood his ground. Rhun bounced off him like he''d hit a brick wall. Brin really hadn''t skipped Strength training, but it looked like Rhun had. Was this guy really a [Warrior]? A quick [Inspect] revealed that Rhun was telling the truth. Name: Rhun Charlik Age: 16 Class: Warrior Level: 23 Imagine having that much attitude at level 23. He was about to teach the idiot a lesson when he saw Sion the [Merchant] wincing at him apologetically from behind. "Sion, what are you doing back there? Who is this clown?" "Are you deaf?" Rhun asked. Brin met his eyes, said nothing, and then looked back at Sion. Sion winced again, and said, "This is my bodyguard." Brin shrugged and stepped aside. "In that case, be my guest." "If you would be so good, sir," said Sion. Rhun scoffed, but stepped inside. "You may enter as well," he said to Sion, and Brin didn''t like his tone. "Thank you, sir," Sion said deferentially, and Brin definitely didn''t like his tone, either. As Sion entered, Brin clasped his wrist and pulled him into a hug. Then he remembered he was covered with soot and apologized.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "No, no, my friend. It is I who impose on you. In all honesty, I had wondered if this was truly the correct place. Men of my... um, our standing do not usually patronize this part of town." Sion peered around Brin''s workshop. "It''s certainly... different." The hesitance in Sion¡¯s eyes and the sheer disgust on Rhun¡¯s face told him how it must look to them, but to Brin this was his own personal paradise. Everything here was custom made with the express goal of plumbing the depths of his Class. For once, no one was hunting him, no [Witches] were killing people, and he¡¯d had nothing but pleasant dreams. He finally had some time to devote towards long-term projects instead of constantly just trying to stay alive. It had started as an empty warehouse, and it was still not completely clear of the chalk dust from the business that used to be here. He had a table for his experiments with lenses, one for mirrors and lasers if he ever got one working, and a nice comfortable parlor chair with a side table covered with glass rings¨Cthat one was for his practice with [Memories in Glass] and [Multithreading]. On the far end was the furnace for melting glass. Summoned glass was fine most of the time, but for high-quality equipment made to last, he couldn''t summon anything as good as the glass he made the old fashioned way. "It''s perfect," said Brin. "Don''t worry, the living spaces are much tidier. That old hotel in the upper city was too... busy. Here, there isn''t someone underfoot at all hours of the day and night listening to my conversations and spreading rumors about all the [Witches] we killed. And the servants actually listen when I tell them not to clean my work spaces. Some of these things are very fragile and--don''t touch that!" Rhun had picked up one of his mirrors, messing up the alignment and probably smudging it with his fingers. Brin had done a lot of experimentation with light and glass, mostly messing with prisms and redoing a lot of experiments he remembered from high school physics. He hadn''t really come up with anything practical for it, but the System had been extremely impressed. That alone had been responsible for five of the seven levels he¡¯d gained in [Call Light through Glass]. That mirror had been placed perfectly to test out his laser, assuming he ever got it working. Realigning it would be a chore. He felt his eyebrow twitch. "Sion, who is this man?" "I have said I am Rhun Charlik. Are you simple?" Brin waited for Sion to answer. "This is Rhun." Turning to Rhun, he addressed the [Warrior] for the first time. "Rhun. Can I ask you a question? Are you sure it''s Sir Charlik? It''s not My Lord Charlik?" "Sir is the correct form of address," Sion said quickly. "In that case, I''m curious. How dare you speak to me?" Rhun sneered. "Tch. The arrogance. This is what''s wrong with Frenaria. The Commoners have no--" "That wasn''t a rhetorical question. I really don''t get it. Do you really have no idea who I am? You think because Sion is my friend, that somehow gives you the right to barge in here? Sion and I have fought and bled together. He''s proven himself. But you? You''re no one to me. I¡¯m not going to be disrespected by some street tough with no name and no levels." "[Warriors] gain levels from acts of courage. Not from puttering around with trinkets." Rhun finally put down the mirror, dismissively dropping it on its face. "Get out of my workshop." Sion hurried to stand between them and said to Rhun, "My apologies sir, but perhaps it would be best?" To Brin''s surprise, Rhun actually left after giving Brin one last surly glare. After the door closed, Sion looked concerned. "My friend, are you quite alright?" Brin ran his fingers through his hair and collapsed into his parlor chair. "I''m sorry! I don''t know what came over me. I didn''t think I was the arrogant young noble type, but it happened so fast! ''Do you know who I am?'' I can''t believe I actually said that!" He shot to his feet. "Oh, but where are my manners. Tea? I found someone that can make passable cookies; you''ve got to try this." "Nothing for me, thanks," said Sion. When Brin visited Sion at his uncle''s place, Sion never took no for an answer so Brin fetched his tea pot, quickly bringing it to a boil by using his magic to heat a glass insert. He poured a couple glasses and set them on the worktable, fetched the cookies, and took a seat on a stool since there was only one parlor chair. Sion sat next to him and hesitantly picked up a cookie. Brin picked one up as well and took a bite. It was perfect; crispy on the outside and just a bit gooey on the inside. He still hadn''t found anything like chocolate, but there were chips of a frosting that tasted like white chocolate and he''d found an equivalent for Macadamia nuts. A nice little taste of home. Sion obviously hated it. "It''s quite good." Brin laughed. "Aren''t we past this?" "No, my friend, don''t misunderstand me. These are wonderful!" It was delicate work to be friends with someone from Prinnash, he was learning. They were too enthusiastic by far. If Brin accidentally complimented Sion''s shirt he would pull it off his back and give it to him. But Brin had figured out a few tricks to dealing with him. "Come on. Do you think Davi would be afraid to tell me if he didn''t like something? Or Zilly?" Sion grimaced. "You''re right. But please don''t misunderstand! I don''t like anything. No tart, no sweet, no cake or pie exists that will tempt me. I hate it all." "You''re kidding," said Brin. "It is the life I have lived that has poisoned them to me. When I work with my family I have twelve meetings a day where I must either display or receive hospitality. My entire life, I am ravenous for something substantial, but my stomach is too full of sweets to eat at all. When I visit among family or with others who know how it is, I am offered vegetables and fruit, but even that grows tiresome. If I truly lived the way I wished, it would be how things were on the road with the caravan. Two or three small and simple meals a day, with nothing in between." Brin snatched the cookie out of Sion''s fingers and took a bite. "I still like sweets, though." "I know. And make no mistake, I will still make every effort to press them upon you." "Can I make a confession, though? I still don''t understand tea." "You don''t like tea?" Sion asked, surprised. "No, it''s... fine. I mean, I don''t really get it. Hogg can talk about tea for hours, but I don''t see what he sees. When I''m alone I just drink water." "Truly?" One of the biggest culture shocks coming to this world from earth was the way that people viewed water. They saw drinking plain water as risky or slovenly behavior, only for those who were too poor for beer and too lazy to boil it for tea. He kind of got that, since drinking the water here was a good way to give yourself a parasite, but he still missed it. Brin stood and moved to his cooler and pulled out a pitcher of water. He poured two glasses and used tongs to drop in a few cubes of ice. One of the perks of living in the city was that there was always ice; he paid a [Waterer] a few coppers per week to keep his cooler stocked with clean ice and purified water. He finished the drinks with wedges of a citrus fruit called gluon and straws. The straws were paper, but Skills meant that they actually worked as straws unlike the trash they use in California. Sion took a sip and gazed at it thoughtfully. "This is most welcome, I must admit. A glass of water dressed up like a cocktail; I certainly never would have thought of this. I fear that if I served this to a guest of mine, they would spend the entire hour trying to suss out exactly what message I was trying to send them." "The hidden meaning is that there''s no hidden meaning. Ok, now tell me what the deal is with that Rhun guy?" Sion set his glass down and sighed. "You understand the way of things in Prinnash, yes?" "I''ve heard that you have a very martial culture. Combat Classes are respected the most, to the point that [Warriors] are automatically considered part of the lower nobility, kind of like if a commoner becomes a [Knight] here in Frenaria." "Yes, but it''s more than that." Sion glanced at his hands. "In Prinnash, the work of [Merchants] is seen as dishonest. After all, we create nothing ourselves, so all our wealth must have been stolen off the plates of honest men. A true man takes what he wants through conquest, not trickery. For this reason, [Merchants] are illegal and trade is outlawed." "What? No it''s not." "It is! With some exceptions, of course," Sion said with a wry smile. "If you are a [Warrior] then you are a true man, and so you have the right to do as you please. A true man could never indulge in trade himself, of course, but if he has wealth then it is natural that he obtains the service of someone to manage his affairs. He could hire a [Merchant] to do those things that are beneath his dignity, like buying and selling. Trade." ¡°Hm,¡± said Brin. He idly toyed with a spyglass on a table nearby while he processed that. ¡°That''s a nice one,¡± said Sion. Brin shrugged. ¡°It''s a failure. I can''t get the threading right.¡± ¡°I don''t think people like the screw type anyway. The collapsible spy glasses are much more popular; I''ve sold out all that you made for me. You have a nice stipend coming for that, by the way. May I?¡± Sion pointed at another of the spy glasses on the table. ¡°Sure,¡± said Brin, gesturing at the whole table. He didn''t like random [Warrior] thugs touching his things, or even [Maids], but Sion was different. A [Merchant] would break his own fingers before damaging the merchandise. "So how does that [Warriors]-only rule work with a huge group like the Wogan Merchant Group? You''d need a patsy of some sort. A figurehead, maybe?" Sion looked at him through the spyglass, making his eye appear extra large. "Yes, exactly. Technically, the Wogan Merchant Group is headed by High Lord Damisco." "Hm, Damisco is a Frenarian name," mused Brin. "It is." "And the only thing I''ve heard about High Lords is that they''re worse than low Lords." "They are those who are granted a title due to an extraordinary service to the crown or an exemplary act of bravery. They are high placed in the social hierarchy, but generally own no land and the title is not inheritable. A low lord with extra steps," Sion explained. He put the spyglass down, then looked around as if trying to find something else. "The perfect person to be your useless figurehead. You don''t have to worry about him trying to grant your company to his heirs." "Exactly. Damisco works for my grandfather though officially it''s the other way around. And in order to prevent any one noble house from wresting the company away from us, we make it a habit for each of us to attach ourselves to a different lord." "Oh. So Rhun...?" "Is a bodyguard," Sion finished. "Perhaps we may come to an understanding, but for now he''s simply that. Though even as a bodyguard he''s my superior and I must defer to him socially." "That sucks." Sion shrugged. "It''s the way of Prinnash." "Did I make trouble for you just now?" "Think nothing of it. Rhun will act as a fool, but he does as he is told." "Zilly is going to love him." Sion barked a laugh, then glanced at the door guiltily. "I can hardly wait. Oh, but you''ve distracted me. I came for a different reason. Your letter arrived.¡± Sion pulled a paper envelope from his pocket, sealed with Lumina''s crest. The paper of the envelope was heavy and stiff, and heavily enchanted. He could only feel the light and sound parts of the enchantment, but it was so disconnected and confusing that he knew there must be several other branches of magic involved. He broke the seal and opened it, excited for word from his adoptive mother. Instead, there was just a single piece of paper covered front and back with writing in the Language. It was a spell for an [Illusionist]. He had no idea what it was at first glance. As much as he wanted to see what it did, he''d wait for Hogg before he cast it. He put it back in the envelope and tucked it into his pocket. ¡°Thanks for doing this. Using your family''s [Messengers] helps me fly under the radar a little, and I''m not sure what my political situation is right now. Lumina''s letters have been vague. I was hoping this one would be more clear, but...¡± ¡°Say no more, I am most pleased to do it!¡± Sion said. He cast his eyes around the workshop, looking for something. ¡°May I ask? Where is your most charismatic companion? I had hoped to see Marksi here.¡± Maybe the best thing about [Multithreading] was that now he always had an answer to that question. He checked the screen that was keeping an eye on the little guy and grinned. ¡°He''s out hunting.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 2 Brin felt his consciousness split off, and knew at once that he was the copy. He knew that wasn''t really how it worked since every thread was the real him, but he couldn''t help feel that he was a clone. He would do a job and then he would end. He knew he was the copy, because he couldn''t control his body¡ªthat was left to the main thread. This was by design, he didn''t want his other threads accidentally flinching or tripping because of something they saw through an Invisible Eye. It had actually been quite tricky to make it happen, and would¡¯ve been impossible if he hadn¡¯t taken up [Meditation] again. When Brin had asked Hogg for help getting the most out of his [Multithreading] Skill, he''d been given a long list of meditation exercises to go through. He''d taken [Meditation] as a General Skill again, and it was already up to level 11. If he kept up his meditation training, soon he would be able to split off separate threads without speeding up his perception of time, though he wasn''t sure exactly how that was going to work. For now, he was stuck doing mostly preparatory exercises. The thread of Brin knew what he was supposed to be doing, so he dutifully went to work. First, he went to the controller, a log run by a directed thread that was in charge of telling all the other threads where to go. It assigned a section of glass where live recordings were stored, so he could use that to watch Marksi with an Invisible Eye. Actually, what was his name? He was Brin, sure, but which one? He wouldn''t know until he said something in the master log. He was supposed to do that anyway. CT1: Online. CT1: Found the feed being recorded by DT3. Observing Marksi. So his name was CT1, huh? He really should get better at naming his variables. Except he was literally the only person that would ever read this, and he always knew what he meant, so did it really matter? Besides, thread or not, he couldn¡¯t stop thinking of himself as Brin. He turned his attention to the feed and saw Lurilan. After helping Brin again with his sea monster problem here in Blackcliff, Lurilan the [Hunter] had hung around Blackcliff for a while even though he hated cities and there wasn''t much good hunting around here. Lurilan had offered to take the little dragon hunting, and Brin had immediately agreed and started packing a backpack. Then Lurilan had told Brin that he meant only Marksi, and Brin had agreed with a little more hesitation. In the end, he knew it was a good idea. Marksi kept getting overshadowed by Brin''s growth. He needed to learn to do some things on his own. Right now, they were mostly walking along in silence. Marksi had grown again, now so big that he looked extremely awkward on Lurilan''s shoulders. He''d gained some mass in his arms and legs and had definitely grown more like a lizard and less like a snake, though he was neither. Despite having scales that shimmered in alternating rainbow patterns, Marksi was somehow a mammal. Together they sliced across the landscape. Lurilan must''ve had several movement Skills working, because he almost looked like he was on one of those airport moving sidewalks. Every step he took seemed to move him three steps worth of distance. They''d need to move quickly to get far enough into the forest to do some actual hunting, and it looked like Lurilan was doing just that. Brin decided to speed things up. He was already only taking up 10% of his total consciousness, and because of the training and his high Mental Control, time was already going at only 6 times the regular speed, but no reason he couldn''t give some of those resources back until he needed them. He checked the log and saw... nothing from the main thread. Typical. He always forgot to log what he was doing. A quick glance through his regular eyes and he saw himself working in his glass workshop. CT1: Marksi and Lurilan are walking. Reducing investment from 10% to 1%. That was probably the biggest breakthrough he''d made, realizing that he could reduce how much processing power his own thread was taking up. He couldn''t do it to other threads, but he could always ask them in the log to use less if he wanted more for himself. Time zipped by. Lurilan and Marksi walked, now appearing to his eyes as if they were careening across the countryside in a racecar. They topped hills and waded through patches of forest, zooming across the earth. He kept an idle eye on them, and watched the time tick by. It was a minute every one and a half seconds. He¡¯d finally figured out how to get an accurate number for how fast time was moving for him. The key had been to do time tests with his directed threads. Since a directed thread was a version of his that was completely focused and without thought or distraction, when he told it to do something, it always did it with utterly perfect efficiency. For example, a directed thread using 50% of his processing power could count to twenty in 0.89 seconds, and it would always take exactly that long every time. If he told it to count by flashing an image of the numbers in his head instead of mentally ''saying'' the numbers, that time went down to 0.02 seconds. His brain was a fast computer. Since it took the same amount of time every time, he could take that and use math to figure out the rate at which he was experiencing time. Oops, something was happening. Lurilan had said something, and Marksi had hopped down, but now they were walking again. Rather than put his time back to 10%, he spun up another directed thread to write out everything Lurilan was saying to a new log for him. Lurilan: I think we''re far enough out now that you may start seeing some game. Why don''t you hop down. No, don''t look at me like that, I will not tell you what my tracking Skills see. The point of this is for you to hunt something. First, why don''t you show me what you can do? I''d like to see what your regular habit is before I start to give suggestions. Marksi seemed to forget he was hunting after that. He acted the way he usually did when they went out into the forest. He played and danced and ran around, giddy at the freedom and the adventure. He climbed trees and jumped in every puddle. Lurilan spoke here and there, but he spent enough time in silence that CT1 could read everything in the log even if it was too fast to make out audibly. Lurilan: That bird you scared away is called a Blue-chin. So named for the tuft of blue hair below the beak. Yes, you heard me right, hair. It''s one of only four birds in Frenaria that grow hair, and one of only two that grows both hair and feathers. Lurilan: There are many burrowing squirrels here. They tend to stay underground, you''ll only see one for every hundred that are present. Don''t kill one if you see it, please. They aren''t dangerous, but they''re very territorial and quite annoying when offended. But of course, Marksi was Marksi. Lurilan: See why I told you not to kill one? Oh, you thought that they''d all swarm you and you''d have an exciting gauntlet of enemies to fight? Well, I hope you learned your lesson. They won''t stop that annoying chirping for hours. Come, let''s get out of here. Marksi and Lurilan spent a lot of time running out of the burrowing squirrels¡¯ territory. CT1 noticed in the master log that Sion visited the shop, mostly a warning to not suddenly jump up the resource usage. Then Sion left, and the main Brin got back to work trying to figure out why his oven wasn''t hot enough. CT1 would probably be allowed to slow his time down if he needed to. Did he need to, though?If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Lurilan: Hungry? Well, we''re hunting, aren''t we? Fetch some lunch. Lurilan: Nice kill. That snake never knew you were there. And that''ll do for a meal for us both I think. No, don''t give me that look. If you kill something you must eat it; that''s the hunter''s code. We do not kill indiscriminately. We¡¯d be eating that squirrel if you¡¯d managed to keep hold of it. Lurilan got a fire going, and quickly removed the scales and bones and fried the meat on a frying pan. CT1 couldn''t be sure because of how fast time was moving, but it seemed like Marksi chomped down his portion before letting it cool at all. Clean-up happened at lightning speed, and then they were off again. Lurilan: How would you hunt a larger animal? For fetching lunch for yourself this is fine, but if you really want to be a help to Brin you''ll need to be able to hunt larger prey. Something like that. Lurilan pointed with his bow at a deer that had just bounded into view. Brin decided there was no way that it was a coincidence it was there. Lurilan must''ve been tracking it for a while. The deer startled when it saw them both, and bounded away. Marksi zipped after it. Brin checked [Inspect]. Race: Deer Age: 4 Level: 16 He hurried and left a message in the master log. CT1: Ok to increase investment? Watching Marksi hunt a deer. Main: Granted CT1: Increasing investment 1% to 35% Time suddenly slowed down. At thirty-five percent of his brain power plus the bonuses that Mental Control gave him, he was now experiencing time at just around twice its normal rate. Things slowed down, but everything was still happening fast. Marksi was in hot pursuit of a fairly large deer, closer to the size of a reindeer. It still hopped more than ran, bounding through the forest in great leaps. The dragonling was pretty fast on his own, but couldn''t match the pace of the deer. He only stayed within sight of his prey because it kept changing direction to try to throw him off. But every time Marksi looked like he was about to reach the deer, it leapt away from him again faster than he could follow. Dragons were not persistence predators; Marksi was going to tire soon. In fact, Brin was surprised he hadn''t given up already. He usually needed a nap right after he ate anything. The fact that he hadn''t insisted on it after eating that snake here with Lurilan was a testament to how serious he was taking this. Marksi had been extremely impressed with Lurilan from their first meeting. He''d seen the way that Lurilan had fought on the beach, casually bringing down waves of monsters without letting a single drop of blood or dirt touch his clothes. Now, he looked like he wanted to show Lurilan that he was a hunter, too. He wouldn''t get the chance unless he could find a way to catch that deer. Suddenly, Marksi went invisible. He was a natural at changing his glittery rainbow scales into the colors around him as camouflage, and combined with his quickness and sneakiness he was impossible to keep track of. The directed thread guiding the Invisible Eye lost track of him, and Brin worried that it would return if not given further instructions. He dashed out a message. CT1: Follow the deer! DT3: Understood. Following the deer. The picture shifted, now focused entirely on the deer. It bounded through the forest at top speed, much faster than Marksi would ever be able to keep up with. Suddenly, it startled at a loud sound, and turned to run to the left, launching itself even faster across the forest. Again, a loud sound startled it. It nearly tripped this time, and changed direction again. Brin would be willing to bet that Lurilan was doing that somehow. Maybe by using some kind of Skill, but more likely he was just throwing rocks at trees. Then, before Brin even realized Marksi was there, the little dragon was leaping onto the deer''s back. He landed claws out, and his claws grew longer to latch deeply into the deer''s flesh, using the Wyrd power that he''d gotten by eating Siphani''s enchantment focus back when. Despite Marksi''s best efforts to hold on, the deer flung him away and fled, bleeding freely and leaving a trail that even Brin would''ve been able to follow. CT1: Follow Marksi! DT3: Understood. Following Marksi. The image swerved back around to Marksi, who stood up on shaky legs. There was a look of extreme frustration on his face. He was spent. He''d never be able to catch up to that deer again. Lurilan stepped into view. ¡°Well done, friend. Let''s go finish it off, shall we?¡± Everything Lurilan was saying was still being repeated in the log, but time was slow enough that Brin could understand it in real time, so he ignored the log. Marksi chirped in glee and jumped towards Lurilan to get back on his shoulders, but the [Hunter] caught him mid-air. He delicately used a handkerchief to remove all dirt and blood from Marksi''s legs and claws before gently setting him on his shoulders again. He took off in a light jog, and the landscape blurred. In moments, he''d caught up with the struggling deer. It was lagging now, starting to weaken from blood loss. ¡°Now, if I was a more fair-minded teacher, I''d make you wait until it weakened and collapsed on its own, and I''d make you follow it on your own by its blood trail. But I''m frankly too impatient for that, and I hate to see it suffer. Go ahead and finish it off, won''t you?¡± Lurilan heaved Marksi by his middle and flung him towards the deer. He landed on the deer''s hind legs and bit into them, attacking with new energy now that his prey was near again. He drove the deer to the ground, then swerved around to go for the neck. It was neither messy nor clean. Neither was it quick. Marksi''s claws were only as sharp as regular animal claws, and he just didn''t have the muscle power to do more than shallow wounds. He had to dig through the tough fur and skin of the deer scratch by scratch. Finally, he hit something that sent out a spray of arterial blood, and the poor deer was put out of its suffering. ¡°Well that could have gone better. But could have gone worse. Hey, wake up!¡± Lurilan grinned as Marksi yawned and slumped on top of his kill, eyes already drooping for a nap. ¡°You wouldn''t want some beast of the forest to steal this out from under you, would you?¡± Marksi suddenly perked up, staring out around him at the trees in fierce suspicion. It honestly surprised Brin that that had worked. He thought Marksi needed a nap after eating, the way that snakes needed time to digest their food. Maybe that was his mistake; he still thought of Marksi as a little snake, no matter how many times he was reminded that he was much, much more than that. ¡°Help me dress this. It''s something you''ll need to be able to do if you want to be a hunter,¡± said Lurilan, and Marksi shifted his attention to him. Lurilan immediately began stripping the skin to bare the muscle underneath. It was grisly work, but also fascinating in a way, the way that a [Hunter] could turn an animal into materials and resources. ¡°Shall we talk about the hunt as we work? Usually a creature such as you would be an ambush predator. You would wait in hiding until something tasty walks by and then leap out and kill it with a single bite. However, you also have a marvelous ability to keep your camouflage activated even as you run at top speed.¡± Marksi puffed up in pride. ¡°Where you''re lacking is in the takedown. You do well against creatures smaller than you, but you struggle against larger opponents. The best you can do is act as a distraction to give Brin an opening.¡± Brin didn''t think that was quite fair. There was nothing that could beat a good distraction, and Marksi''s ¡°distractions¡± tended to be things like clawing out a monster''s eye. Lurilan continued, ¡°If you had strong jaws like a crocodile, or if you could squeeze like a constrictor snake, or sharper claws and stronger legs like a lion, or maybe a venomous bite, you could reliably kill monsters your size or larger.¡± Marksi scuttled around in a circle atop the dead deer, looking down at it and perhaps imagining the monster core that he would need to improve his killing ability. Strong monsters or animals often dropped a beast core that he could use to evolve and grow, but he refused to eat the core of any beast that he didn''t have a large role in defeating. ¡°Of course,¡± Lurilan said quietly, almost to himself. ¡°All that would be nothing if you had endurance. I only needed to step in here because you couldn''t keep running. You would have killed it without aid if you had been able to keep up.¡± Marksi snapped his jaws at Lurilan, as if to say, ¡°I am a dragon. Dragons do not run.¡± Brin wasn''t sure why that particular snap of his jaws meant that, but he was getting pretty good at deciphering Marksi-ese. Lurilan pointed the short-bladed knife that he was using to dress the deer at Marksi, pointing at him with a serious expression on his face. ¡°I know what you are. Do you? Brin will never have sharp claws or scales, and I will never have wings that fly, but neither of us is a dragon. You have no limits, none except the ones you place on yourself.¡± Marksi drew back, confused. Lurilan turned back to the deer. He finished his work, then wrapped everything up carefully with twine and paper, and then stored it in his back. When he was done, the only thing he needed to wash was his hands, which he accomplished in a small stream nearby. Marksi watched him in silence, thinking. Every time the dragonlings eyes started to droop down, he pinched himself with his claws and perked up again. When Lurilan was done, he stood. ¡°If you want to be able to run, then run.¡± He started to jog off into the forest, back towards Blackcliff. To Brin''s surprise, Marksi dashed after him. He noticed movement in the master log. Main: Can I have some time back? I want to talk to Hogg. CT1: Sure thing. Marksi took down the deer. They''re on their way back. Brin adjusted his investment from 35% back down to 1% and the time zoomed by again. Marksi ran, following Lurilan through the forest. He panted and his legs shook. His face was bent towards the ground and his tail dragged behind him, but still he ran on. By Brin''s estimate, Marksi made it three and a half miles before he collapsed. Lurilan turned back and scooped the dragonling off the ground, carrying him home. CT1: Returning. Book 4 - Chapter 3 Brin sighed in relief as his last conscious thread returned and he had his full mind back. Well, most of his mind. Two or three directed threads running Invisible Eyes didn''t make a noticeable impact on his perception of time. ¡°Ok, I''m ready. What''s up?¡± Brin asked. Hogg had poured himself an iced tea and now sat down on his favorite reclining chair. He hadn''t actually brought all his furniture from Hammon''s Bog, but he''d bought a lot of the same things here in Blackcliff, though nothing as expensive as he''d like. "So today--" Hogg started. "Actually hold that thought. We got something from Lumina! But I don''t really understand it." Brin showed Hogg the paper Lumina had sent. Hogg stepped over to snatch it out of his hands, and then paced back and forth in the living room reading it. He frowned, looking back and forth between Brin and the paper a few times. Finally he said, "Incredible. So it really exists. A bit ironic that I find this when I can''t use it anymore. You know what this is, right?" Brin shook his head. "Maybe if I had a couple hours to go over it, but my knowledge of the Language isn''t even close to the point where I can understand a spell at a glance." He did have more tools for that kind of thing than he used to, though. He immediately created a Directed Thread with the instruction to start reading through the words so that when the time came to cast it, he''d be able to. Then just to speed things up, he cast three more, to start in different sections of the spell. "This," Hogg said while holding up the paper reverently, "is one of Frenaria''s most closely guarded secrets. This is the spell for long range communication. I bet it uses those radio waves you keep talking about. How long do you think it''ll take you to learn this?" Brin took the paper back, unnecessary since he could just review it perfectly from his [Memories in Glass], but if he was going to think with his regular brain then he wanted to look with his regular eyes. He skimmed the paper, not trying to really read it yet. Instead, he looked through trying to spot any parts that would be especially difficult. "A long time," he decided. "I don''t know this word, or this one, and I''m completely lost in this section." Hogg walked around to look at the paper from behind him. "Maybe we can break this up. Hard Light should be capable of let''s see... most of this, honestly. I think we''ll only need you for this section here, and then maybe this bit towards the end." The sections Hogg indicated only made up about a fifth of the total spell. There were still a couple words that Brin didn''t know, but it avoided the most complicated sections. He could still infer a word''s name and meaning after seeing it written, it was just a lot harder to learn that way rather than having someone teach him. "It should be doable." "Then let''s get to work. If Lumina is sending us this, then she probably wants us to use it right away. I''ll push my appointments back; this takes precedence." Hogg made no move to leave the room or do anything else to push his appointments back. He''d use his Mirror Images for that. Being made of hard light meant they didn''t have the range that Brin''s illusory ones did, but they were capable of a whole lot more. Brin sent a message in the master log. Main: DT1, please continue to monitor Marksi. All other threads return. Instantly, all his threads snapped back into his consciousness, returning with the memories of what he''d been up to. The ones watching the house didn''t give him much except a very intimate knowledge of what the street just outside looked like, but the threads he''d started working on the spell had already begun to comprehend portions of it. He sent out two more directed threads to begin parsing his two assigned sections. Then he spent a moment finding every word he didn''t know. There were four of them. He assigned a conscious thread to each of them to figure out their meanings. He gave each of the conscious threads twenty percent of his mind, which meant that there was barely anything left for him. He made one last thread a directed thread that he called the Mouth Manager. When figuring out new words of Language, it was essential to try to pronounce them. The purpose of the Mouth Manager was to give all his threads a turn using his mouth, and to avoid all the issues that might come from several different minds trying to use it at the same time. "Testing one," he said. Then his mouth seemed to move on its own, directed from another source. "Testing two. Testing three. Testing four. Testing five." It was an unnerving experience. Even though he knew it was his mind working those threads, it still felt like he was being possessed by some external power. He tried to repeat "Testing one", but his mouth refused to move until all the other threads had their say. Only then did he feel himself say "Testing one" again. Good. His Mouth Manager was working. Soon after his mouth started babbling. ¡°Nossalatu. Nossalatu? Impagio. Acci. Noss¡­ a latu. Acci! Acca? Accai¡­. Impagio!¡± The minutes sped by at double time, and before long he got a message. DT2: Unrecognized word. Cannot continue. Returning. He got the memories of a read-through of the first part of the spell, and now glancing at it he could see what the words meant and kind of tell what it was doing. He sent a new directed thread out to start reading after the word that had halted it, and then started reading the first part of the spell again on his own. DT3: Unrecognized word. Cannot continue. Returning. DT4: Unrecognized word. Cannot continue. Returning. Each time it happened, he skipped the word and had them start again. Come to think of it, his main thread wasn¡¯t doing much other than making new threads when one failed. He spun up a few more directed threads, to work on everything he could simultaneously. Now time seemed to zip forward, and it was all he could do to keep creating directed threads every time one failed. In what seemed like no time at all, but was probably hours, he finally got one of the messages he was hoping for. CT1: Got it. Nosslatu. It means ¡°to capture¡± but in the context of¡­ you know what, it¡¯s hard to explain. You¡¯ll see. Returning. At first, seeing the success message gave him a huge thrill; it felt like he was getting magic for free. Then he was hit by the memory of spending what felt like an hour doing nothing but staring at a word of the Language and trying to understand it. It was boring, monotonous, head-ache inducing work. He hated it when he made himself do something like that. Working through problems as a thread was much worse than doing it when he had control of his body. With his body he could sigh, or stretch, or get up and walk around a little to take a break, but as a thread he could do none of that. Nothing had been free; doing it like this was a hundred times worse than using his main consciousness. Still, it was done now, and with the memory of mind-bending work also came the knowledge. Soon after, the other threads returned and time slowed back down to its regular pace. He made one last read through, integrating all the knowledge he¡¯d gained from his various threads, and the purpose of the spell he was working on started to reveal itself. It was just what Hogg had said, a spell for long-range communication. His was all about receiving and decoding beams of radio wavelength light. His portion of the spell wouldn¡¯t actually do anything with the information it retrieved, though. ¡°I think I¡¯m ready,¡± said Brin. ¡°Hold on, I think part of my spell needs to be done outside,¡± said Hogg. They stepped outside, and Hogg cast a portion of the spell. It summoned a huge satellite dish of hard light, pointed up towards the sky. It was a little shocking to see something that looked so similar to technology from earth, but it made sense in a way. If this spell was made for catching radio waves from the upper atmosphere, then that shape was the only thing that made sense. Like everything Hogg made, it was jet black, so that he could claim he was a [Rogue] with shadow powers. There wasn¡¯t anyone out on the street nearby, but Brin was sure half the neighborhood would see it before an hour went by. ¡°I think if you¡¯d done it with light, this part would¡¯ve been invisible,¡± said Hogg. ¡°You really can¡¯t make invisible hard light? It seems like you should be able to,¡± said Brin. Hogg gestured, and the color of the radio dish drained away until it was clear. It wasn¡¯t invisible though, it looked like a giant glass sculpture. ¡°I figure this is even more liable to draw attention. It looks like I¡¯m trying to hide something.¡± ¡°Ok, let me see what I can do,¡± said Brin. He sent out a directed thread, instructing it to cover the entire thing in a huge circle of self-invisibility. Normally, something this big would be well beyond his capabilities, but since it was up in the air he¡¯d be able to wrap it in a giant sphere, which reduced the complexity a little. After a few moments, he got a notice in his log. DT2: Object too large. Permission to create another thread? Resource limit has not been reached. Creating another directed thread. They stared at the huge black radio dish in silence while Brin waited for his threads to finish. He felt the slight drain to his Mana before noticing the update to his log. DT2: Invisibility completed. Lower half of the object has been covered. DT3: Invisibility completed. Upper half of the object has been covered. The radio dish faded from view. This was the real power of [Multithreading]. Normally, while casting an invisibility spell, he¡¯d have to focus on it so much that he could barely walk. Now all it did was slightly speed up his perception of time. ¡°Wait,¡± said Brin. ¡°Is this going to work? Invisibility works by redirecting all the light around an object. If no light can get in then it won¡¯t be able to receive radio signals.¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Hogg walked back and forth a bit, peering up and making sure Brin had the whole thing covered. ¡°If that¡¯s the way it worked, you¡¯d be blind inside the spell. It¡¯s more like a complex filter that lets all light in but blocks or redirects some light on the way back out. If you ever needed to make invisibility with a much reduced mana cost, you could make it simply block and redirect the light, though.¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°Mana barely factors in when it comes to illusions. This is draining less than my natural regeneration.¡± Back inside, Hogg took the paper in his hand and pointed at the beginning part of Brin¡¯s portion of the spell. ¡°I think this needs to attach to my construct out there.¡± He indicated the second section. ¡°Then shoot this part towards me. My Lightmind should pick it up and then I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡± Brin created two directed threads to cast his sections of the spell. Nothing happened right away. That was to be expected, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking. Hogg wasn¡¯t going to screw up his portion of the spell, but Brin might and if he did they¡¯d miss out on talking to Lumina. Directed threads were fast, but this was his first time casting. The spell didn¡¯t succeed at first, but after ten minutes of trial and error, Brin finally found the place to make his portions and Hogg¡¯s come together. It was a short, beautiful moment, reminding him of programming in his old life. He¡¯d break his brain spending hours on some stupid problem that never should¡¯ve happened in the first place, but then, when it finally worked, all was forgotten. They almost didn¡¯t even realize it was working until a strange yellow ball of hard light appeared in the air. The ball vibrated a bit, and a masculine voice came from it. ¡°Stand by.¡± They waited. Ten minutes later, the ball vibrated again. It was a woman¡¯s voice. Lumina¡¯s voice. ¡°Hello? Can you hear me?¡± ¡°Lumina!¡± Brin shouted. ¡°Is that really you?¡± ¡°Hello? Are you there?¡± she asked. ¡°One second,¡± said Hogg. He tinkered with his hard light, and the sphere winked out, appeared again, and then suddenly expanded. It grew larger, lost its shape, changed into a series of separate colors, and then finally resolved into a perfect copy of Lumina. The [Archmage] who¡¯d sort of adopted him was there, with her long golden hair and trademark red hat. She looked at them with a quizzical expression. ¡°I can hear you. Can you hear me?¡± ¡°We can hear and see you,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Oh, fantastic! I¨C¡± Brin stepped forward and wrapped Lumina in a hug. Since she was made of hard light it felt like hugging a glass statue, but it was the thought that counted. ¡°Lumina! I missed you. What¡¯s this spell?¡± ¡°What? You¡¯re touching my projection. How are you doing that?¡± Lumina asked. ¡°Your projection on our side is made of hard light. You can touch anything you see here,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Hogg did most of the spell, I only helped,¡± Brin admitted. ¡°Ah, that makes sense. This spell is highly advanced. I feared that it would be several days or even weeks before you would be able to cast this.¡± She walked to an end table and awkwardly lifted up a vase before setting it down, ignoring Hogg¡¯s pained wince. ¡°How interesting! Perhaps I could replicate the same thing on my end¡­ with a little¡­ and¡­ there. Let me try.¡± She lifted the vase again, and seemed more satisfied by the experience. She turned and hugged Brin back. It wasn¡¯t a warm or comfortable hug, again it felt like now a glass statue was wrapping its arms around him, but it was still something. She let go, and Brin stepped back. ¡°I missed you as well, my dear boy. You must know how dearly I treasure this chance to see you again. But unfortunately it isn¡¯t for sentimentality¡¯s sake that I sent you this spell. There isn¡¯t much time and we have much to discuss.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± said Brin. ¡°First, this spell. You must both swear to me that you will never reveal it to anyone, inside Frenaria or outside. You must not even speak of its existence. In fact, is this location warded against¨C?¡± ¡°It¡¯s safe,¡± said Hogg. ¡°And I swear; we won¡¯t tell anyone.¡± ¡°I promise,¡± said Brin. ¡°Do you want an Oath?¡± Lumina looked to the side, acting a bit nervous. ¡°Um. No. I think not.¡± Hogg grinned. ¡°Ha! You weren¡¯t supposed to give us this, were you?¡± ¡°Well, I wasn''t told not to do it,¡± said Lumina. ¡°And I had good reason. As embarrassing as it would be to have this spell fall into the enemy hands, that¡¯s nothing compared to how dangerous it would be to leak the information you sent me in your letter. Let me be clear: You must never again risk this information by writing it down. You must also never speak a word of what you told me in that letter. Not to each other, not to your friends, not even to the King himself.¡± Brin had taken precautions with the letter he¡¯d sent Lumina, of course. As soon as they¡¯d gotten a safe place in Blackcliff, he¡¯d told everything that he¡¯d learned from Aberfa. Then he¡¯d paid nearly seventy-five gold to cover it in enchantments against every form of spying, as well as a self-destruct spell should anyone but Lumina tamper with it. Then he¡¯d had Sion¡¯s family put it in a locked safe to deliver it with their caravan under heavy guard. He¡¯d also had an Invisible Eye follow it for the first fifty miles of the journey, making sure no one opened the safe. But now, seeing the seriousness in Lumina¡¯s eyes, he wished he¡¯d been able to do more. ¡°We haven¡¯t told anyone else,¡± he said. ¡°Then the three of us are all that know,¡± said Lumina. ¡°You haven¡¯t told your Master? Or the King?¡± asked Hogg. Lumina clasped her hands together. ¡°Please understand. By carefully feeding the right information to her spy, I can manipulate events in such a way as to finally bring us victory. But every individual we bring into this is another point of failure. Keep in mind that Arcaena does not need one of us to turn traitor in order to discover that her secret is out. She may divine this information in our fates, or deduce it from slight inconsistencies in our actions. The three of us may slip by undetected if we are careful, but there is no one that Arcaena watches more closely than the King and his Master of Magic.¡± ¡°There¡¯s also no one better protected against that sort of thing than the King and your Master. That¡¯s a longshot, even for her,¡± said Hogg. ¡°I have other reasons. You know what a [Witch]-hunt can do to a town or city. Imagine what it could do to an entire nation! True, I fully believe that Arcaena chose a [Paladin] as her spy. This spell represents an enormous investment on her part, and she wouldn¡¯t waste it on something less. It would be just like her to seek to corrupt a Class which is by definition incorruptible. But it isn¡¯t a certainty, and she has slain more than only that [Paladin]. She has slain [Knights] and [Messengers]. [Assassins]. [Mages] and [Archmages]. Even a [Prince]! No one would be above suspicion. This knowledge would tear the country apart.¡± ¡°Unless only a few were told who could carefully snoop around, looking for those who have the warning signs,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not saying you should tell everyone¨C¡± ¡°And what warning signs are those?¡± snapped Lumina. She answered her own question, ¡°We¡¯re searching for anyone who doesn¡¯t remember his own childhood. And besides the man I have in mind, I can think of only one other who fits.¡± ¡°Me,¡± said Brin. ¡°Exactly.¡± Hogg nodded and folded his arms. ¡°Then we tell no one.¡± Brin looked between his two adoptive parents in exasperation. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I have to keep saying this, but please don¡¯t endanger the entire world on my account. If telling the King about the spy will help us win the war, then we should tell him!¡± ¡°I could never do that to you. Your situation here at court is already¡­ somewhat fraught. I did pass on the list of names of Arcaena¡¯s greatest servants that you provided, and the King received it very gratefully. So grateful was he that I was unable to obscure your existence. There are rumors about and schemes afoot.¡± Lumina paced a bit as she talked, then looked down at Hogg¡¯s sofa, considering, before finally giving in and taking a seat. ¡°By all means, make yourself at home,¡± Hogg said sarcastically and then moved to his own favorite chair. ¡°So what do you want us to do?¡± ¡°By now I had hoped to invite you to come to Steamshield, but I don¡¯t think the Tower is quite safe for you at present. I¡¯ve been investigating this [Caravan Master] Zerif you wrote me about, and as of this morning I¡¯m beginning to believe he wasn¡¯t working on behalf of Prinnash at all. It¡¯s becoming more and more likely that he was working for one of my rivals here in Frenaria. There¡¯s a Duke Xander of House Cobol that¡¯s a particular danger. Stay away from his agents and subordinate houses if you are able. I also can¡¯t have you return to Hammon¡¯s Bog. They will know to look for you there. Hm. Remain in Blackcliff, I think, for the time being. We¡¯ll meet again in two weeks, at noon with the same method. I hope I will have more for you then. In the meantime, finish up any business you may have; when the time comes to leave it may be with some urgency.¡± Lumina looked up suddenly at something that Brin and Hogg couldn¡¯t see. ¡°I must go!¡± Her image disappeared. Brin cursed. Hopefully Lumina wasn¡¯t in some kind of trouble. How many rules had she broken by sending him this spell? She might be getting arrested right now, and he would have no idea until their appointment in two weeks. Not to mention the fact that he still had a ton of questions for her. It wasn¡¯t as important as the fate of the kingdom, but she¡¯d promised to look into figuring out what happened to that caravan he¡¯d subsidized almost two years ago. ¡°Got it,¡± Hogg said to the empty air. ¡°I¡¯m about done in this town anyway.¡± Brin looked back at Hogg, still worried about whatever had interrupted Lumina so suddenly. It took him a second to think of what Hogg was talking about. ¡°Then you mean¨C?¡± ¡°Yep. I¡¯m as prepared as I¡¯ll ever be. That¡¯s what I was going to tell you before; I¡¯m finally ready to take my money back.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 4 After Lumina''s sudden departure, Brin and Hogg pulled the spell down again. Brin immediately spun up some new threads to start comprehending the spell in full in case he ever needed to do the entire thing himself. One directed thread to start reading through the portions Hogg had done, another directed thread to monitor the first one and create new threads any time they failed. Then he made a conscious thread to start figuring out the words he still didn¡¯t know. That last one returned pretty quickly. CT1: I don¡¯t really feel like doing this right now. Returning. Ridiculous! But then he got the short length of memories from that thread, and it was true. After everything he¡¯d learned from Lumina just now, he found it hard to think about something else. He put a directed thread on the case, though he doubted that it would be able to accomplish much. ¡°I think I''ve finally gotten everything I need to start taking back my holdings here in Blackcliff,¡± said Hogg. Brin shook off the thoughts of threads. Right, he¡¯d been waiting for this. ¡°Lumina already sent you the writ from the King and the First Bank of Frenaria. What else did you need?¡± ¡°Information. Never go to battle with a [Merchant] without knowing everything there is to know about everything. They¡¯ve got a hundred and one Skills to screw you over and the only counter is information. Today, we¡¯ll be talking to [Merchant] Fernand Riposto about my physical property here in Blackcliff and Glyn Wogan about my shipping and commodities. Obviously I¡¯m more worried about the second one." ¡°Really? Sion told me he put in a good word for you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m worried. I mean, what should I wear? How should I act?¡± ¡°I guess wear what you always wear and act how you always act? I¡¯m confused. You¡¯ve done this a hundred times before. What are you worried about? Sion is a friend, and his uncle Glyn is really nice.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m worried about. You¡¯ll see,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Anyways, Fernand is up first. Let¡¯s head over.¡± Brin went to his room to change his clothes. Different clothes for working out or experimenting in the workshop weren¡¯t really a thing here; clothes were status and everyone wanted to look the best they could at all times, but Brin kept to common sense and had something else made for working in his shop. His work clothes weren¡¯t ugly by any means, but they¡¯d been enchanted against fire and explosions. His day clothes were exactly as fine and elaborate as would be expected for a young rich non-noble, and no more. To match with Hogg, he chose to dress all in a professional-looking suit, all black except for a white shirt and the rainbow-colored dragon across the back of his overcoat. The enchantments were more focused on protection from piercing damage as well as a little boost to his [Hide Status]. He showed the world the face of a moderately high-leveled [Glasser]. When he was done, he returned to the main room and predictably found that Hogg was just going to wear his black leathers like always, however a new person was in the room. A six and a half foot tall man with severe and serious features stood waiting near the door. His skin was pearly white, his hair jet black, and his eyes were pits of jet black like the pits of hell. He wore white and black, in the style of a servant. A footman, specifically, the kind of guy who hung around nobles to do all the random little tasks that came up and generally made their bosses look important. Most importantly, [Know What¡¯s Real] was telling Brin that this guy was a fake. He [Inspected] him. Name: Jeeves Age: 1 Race: Shadow Elemental Class: Shadebound Level: 45 It was definitely hard light and not a Shadow Elemental. Were those even real? It was pretty intimidating, though. Brin snickered. ¡°Jeeves, huh?¡± ¡°Yeah, the famous [Steward] from your world. I thought it was appropriately foreign and ominous sounding,¡± said Hogg. ¡°He¡¯s a butler, and I think his name is Reginald Jeeves in the books.¡± ¡°Even better.¡± Name: Reginald Jeeves ¡°How are you changing the system message like this? Can I do that?¡± ¡°Have I really not taught you this? [Illusion] magic would be pretty useless if you couldn¡¯t fool [Inspect]. We¡¯ll go over it when we get back. For now, we need to get moving. Lumina taught you how to treat servants, right?¡± asked Hogg. ¡°Yeah,¡± said Brin. It was simple really; he was supposed to act like they weren¡¯t there. To his American sensibilities that felt wrong. His upbringing told him that he should always acknowledge the staff and make sure to treat them like people. Ignoring them felt like he was acting like he was better than them, but the people here didn¡¯t see it that way. Servants were just people with jobs, and it made their jobs easier if they weren''t forced to suck up to their customers all the time. There was probably a fine line between being overbearing and treating the servants like they were less than human, but he didn¡¯t have a chance to find it today. Jeeves here really wasn¡¯t human, just something Hogg had summoned. Brin walked to the door, and when Jeeves opened it for him he gave as much notice as he would¡¯ve the automatic door as the grocery store. Outside in the street, there stood a pitch black carriage. It was fine and ornamented in all the ways an upper-crust carriage should, but again it was fake. A construct of hard light. The two horses leading it, on the other hand, were extremely real. ¡°Why a fake carriage and real horses?¡± ¡°I got a good deal on the horses,¡± said Hogg. ¡°You¡¯re really going all-out on this [Shadow Summoner] persona. Why not at least put up a token effort to pretend to still be a [Rogue]?¡± ¡°Well for one thing, half the city saw me riding around on a giant black scorpion,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Fair point.¡± ¡°And also because of how getting my assets frozen worked out. I have to use my real identity, verified by this writ from the King, to get my stuff back. That means from now I have to do all my business as myself. I¡¯ve thought long and hard about the face I want to show off to the world, and I think this is the way to go. If I prove that I really am a powerful shadow summoner, I might be able to hide my other abilities.¡± Jeeves helped them both into the carriage, then went around to take the driver¡¯s position. The carriage itself was not comfortable at all. He couldn¡¯t escape the fact that the seat and floor were made of the same hard, smooth non-material, and he constantly had to sit up to keep from sliding around. The road wasn¡¯t even and he felt every single bump and pothole as they traveled through town. The trip would¡¯ve been much easier if they¡¯d just walked, but obviously Hogg cared more about making an impression. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you put struts and shocks on this thing?¡± Brin asked. ¡°Why would I bother? You think I¡¯m going to make a habit of this?¡± Hogg groused. Despite that, Hogg did something to make the ride a lot smoother after that, but it was too little too late. By the time they got there, Brin¡¯s stomach was churning from motion sickness and he was eager to burst out of the wagon and get to solid ground. That wouldn¡¯t have helped the image Hogg was trying to project so he dutifully waited until Jeeves walked around and opened the door for him. Hogg stepped out first, and Brin came out next to stand beside him. In front of them was a large Frenarian manor house. The gardens and trees were trimmed to perfect, unnatural uniformity and the house and outbuildings were perfectly square and symmetrical. No servants were outside to greet them, which could be taken as an insult if the two of them weren¡¯t already more than an hour late. ¡°Do they know to expect us?¡± asked Brin. ¡°I sent a runner. Fernand probably thinks that showing up late was a power move on my part, so he¡¯s doing the same thing by pretending to forget we were coming,¡± said Hogg. ¡°So what do we do?¡± asked Brin. Hogg cracked his neck side to side, considering. "Let''s go see if anyone is home." They walked across the empty courtyard in silence, and Brin used that time to create a few directed threads. The first two he created were assigned to snoop around the house. His normal way of doing this was to have a whole HUD with all his logs and screens visible at once, but people could tell when he was looking at something only he could see. They always assumed he was reading System messages, so instead of having the threads put the images up on screens, Brin let them record their findings in glass where he could "remember" them without moving his eyes. A quick zip through the house revealed that only the first few rooms were furnished at all. After that, the house was very utilitarian, with rooms for storage and a few workrooms for packaging and an office for clerical work. Many of the workers were hurriedly trading their work clothes for servant garments, and with [Inspect] Brin saw them using [Hide Status] to change their apparent Classes. Neither he nor Hogg would be fooled by any of this, of course. Actually, Hogg might not know the whole of it, he might not risk his Visible Eyes here. Brin spun up another thread, this one with a spell that could create sound audible only to Hogg, his intended target. Since he didn''t want to be seen moving his lips, the spell used the Language to turn text into speech. His voice came out tinny and robotic. "He''s having the whole house change clothes and pretend to be servants." When Hogg''s voice came back using a similar spell, it sounded completely real and natural. "Typical. He''s going to want to make himself look richer than he really is. Make no mistake, though, this guy is pretty rich. He could afford to live the way he pretends to. That''s my take, anyway. Oh, by the way, keep your eyes out of the basement. He''ll have wards against illusions down there, and if you set one off it won''t be a hard leap to guess that one of us is an [Illusionist]." Brin gulped. He''d almost just given away a secret that Hogg had managed to keep his whole life, and the only thing that saved him was his own incompetence--he hadn''t even noticed the secret basement. They reached the house and Jeeves stepped forward to knock on the heavy front doors. Seconds later, the doors opened. Inside was a finely furnished hall with a chandelier and a large portrait on the far wall annotated to show that this was Fernand himself. Below that, a row of ten servants stood at attention, in addition to the two footmen. The servants mostly tried to keep eyes forward, but Brin saw more than one pair of eyes widen as they looked at Jeeves, no doubt [Inspecting] him and realizing he wasn''t something human. Jeeves stepped to the side so that Brin and Hogg could enter. Brin carefully schooled his features, remembering to keep his eyes forward and using his Invisible Eyes to look at people. He was very aware of how he must look to these people, face firm and slightly bored, not yielding the smile that he''d practiced in the mirror to make himself look friendly and unthreatening. A [Steward] stepped forward to greet them. "If you''ll wait one moment, sirs, my master will be with you soon." One of the women in the line discreetly stepped to a side door, no doubt to summon her master. It was all for show, Brin could see him just on the other side of the door, but he waited a half minute before coming through. Fernand was a serious-looking man with beady eyes that barely peeked through low-hanging black eyebrows. He stepped with the quick pace of the kind of man who always had somewhere to be. He frowned at Hogg, sinking those eyebrows even lower. "Is there any reason for this? We''re all Commoners here." Turning around to his assembled staff, he said, "Go find something to do. Go on!" The [Steward], an older gentleman, tutted. "It isn''t generally done, to--"Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "I don''t care," Fernand snapped. "You two, my office. Come." He turned on his heel and hiked towards a door towards the back. "Perhaps we could offer some refreshment--" the [Steward] started again. "Why? If they''re hungry they should''ve eaten before they came. They''re here for business." He seemed to hesitate at the door and turned back, looking a bit uncertain. "Are you hungry?" "No," Hogg said. "See?" he asked the [Steward]. Then he pointed at Hogg. "I''ll give you the Riposto promise. You don''t waste my time and I won''t waste yours." "I appreciate that," said Hogg. "I thought you would." Fernand entered his office and clicked the door shut behind him. With a weary sigh, the [Steward] opened it again and gestured them inside. Brin entered to find Fernand already seated behind his desk. The office was appropriately plush, but a few details stood out to show the man¡¯s business focus. A large document cabinet clashed a bit with the other decorations, and the surface of the desk had rubbed the lacquer off with constant use. There was only one chair on the other side of the desk, which Hogg took so Brin stood behind him near the door. Jeeves stayed outside. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t bring your big spooky thug in. How¡¯s he going to intimidate me from out there?¡± asked Fernand. Hogg sighed. ¡°I thought you said we were going to skip this part. Or maybe you actually want me to think that all those servants out there were standing around for no reason.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± Fernand opened a folder on his desk. He drew out a piece of paper and put it between them. ¡°Is this yours?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Hogg. Fernand frowned down at it, and Brin felt a sudden out-of-place, guilty feeling. His Mental Resistance was good enough to tell that it was foreign, that Fernand was using a Skill on him and Hogg. The Skill was trying to make him feel like he¡¯d done something wrong and that he was going to get caught. It made him want to squirm in his seat and confess that he was a liar and a trickster. He resisted it, of course, but he was a little surprised that Fernand was starting off with such a flagrant misuse of his Class¡¯s powers. Most people would storm out immediately if they thought a [Merchant] was using something like this on them, and Fernand wasn¡¯t bothering to hide it. ¡°This document is an attempt to claim ownership of a significant number of shares of Free Blackstone¡¯s Consortium for Goods and Immovables, namely those shares owned by one Rhaal Stoneclaw,¡± said Fernand. As he spoke, the power of his Skill seemed to magnify in intensity. Brin knew he was being screwed with, but he still wanted to confess that he was a fraud and a fake and then leave as soon as possible. He clenched his jaw against it. All those mental wars with Aberfa hadn¡¯t been for nothing; he was impervious to this level of mental force. Still, he was glad that it wasn¡¯t his place to say anything. ¡°There must be some mistake,¡± said Hogg. Fernand began to tuck the document back in the folder. ¡°I thought as much.¡± ¡°The shares in your company are only a small part of my claim. I also left a significant amount of inventory in your warehouses,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Significant inventory carries significant storage fees, particularly when the client in question disappears for two years without a word. That¡¯s something that I would expect Mr. Stoneclaw, an Ollandish gentleman with whom I¡¯ve had a nearly decade-long partnership with, to understand.¡± Hogg laughed. ¡°If you really held onto it for this long then you¡¯re not the same Fernand Riposto I¡¯ve been working with all this time. But if that¡¯s the case, then sure, hand it all over and I¡¯ll pay the fee.¡± ¡°Mr. Stoneclaw will have to contend with that, when he returns,¡± Fernand said stubbornly. Hogg leaned back in his seat. ¡°You have everything you need to verify my identity.¡± ¡°Documents,¡± Fernand said, waving as if he smelled a stink. ¡°You don¡¯t even look like Mr. Stoneclaw. How am I supposed to believe you¡¯re really the man I¡¯ve been corresponding with all these years? It would be much easier to believe that documents can be forged.¡± Hogg stood up. ¡°Fine. Then follow your original instructions from the king. Liquidate all my assets, buy out the shares of the company, and send the cash to the bank in Steamshield. I¡¯ll rely on the Royal Auditors to make sure you gave me a fair price.¡± Fernand stood as well, to catch Hogg¡¯s jacket and keep him from leaving. ¡°Let¡¯s not be so hasty.¡± ¡°How about let¡¯s not waste each-other¡¯s time? Am I your associate who operated in the past under the pseudonym Rhaal Stoneclaw, or am I an imposter? Decide now.¡± Fernand winced. ¡°I¡¯ll need to retain the services of a [Solicitor] to¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯ve had time to hire a [Solicitor] if you wanted. A decision, please.¡± ¡°As for the cost of a [Solicitor]...¡± ¡°I¡¯m not paying. Decide.¡± Fernand collapsed back into his chair. He sighed. ¡°Welcome back, Mr. Stoneclaw. Only, how shall I address you this time?¡± ¡°Hogg.¡± He sat as well, smoothing the folds of his leather coat. ¡°Just Hogg?¡± asked Fernand. If Brin hoped that another piece of dad lore would drop and he¡¯d finally get to hear Hogg¡¯s last name, he was disappointed. Hogg furrowed his brows and said nothing more. The pressure of the [Merchant¡¯s] mind-altering Skills lessened, and Brin expected that the bulk of the negotiations had finished, but again he was disappointed. Fernand then tried to get Hogg to agree to pay the costs of storing all his inventory this entire time. When Hogg forced him to reveal that he hadn¡¯t actually kept any of the inventory and it had all been traded away, he tried to retroactively haggle away the price of every single item. For some of the items, Fernand was able to produce the records of exactly what he¡¯d sold it for, but for many others he claimed that he didn¡¯t remember where it had gone or that he¡¯d had an untalented subordinate sell it at a loss. ¡°Now the salt, that was a bit difficult to find a buyer. There are Classes who can make salt from sand, you know, not to mention those who can draw it out of the sea. I had to let it go for¨C¡± ¡°Four copper pence per pound,¡± Hogg stated. ¡°Four pence! Perhaps you¡¯ve seen the street price, but small amounts can be sold for a mark-up. In bulk, salt is practically useless. I had to let it go for¨C¡± ¡°Two copper pence and three bits,¡± said Hogg. Fernand licked his lip. ¡°One copper, seven bits.¡± Hogg shook his head. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m haggling? Who would haggle with a [Merchant]? I¡¯m telling you the price. Two copper pence and three bits.¡± ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s the price now, but a year and a half ago when I offloaded it¨C¡± ¡°Is not my problem. If you¡¯ve been selling low and buying high then you aren¡¯t the man I want to be in business with.¡± ¡°Two copper pence and three bits,¡± Fernand conceded. ¡°Now as for the tableware they come at¨C¡± Fernand brought up all kinds of random things, too. Silverware, and spices. Metals and magic tools. Leather and lettuce. For every single item, Hogg revealed the depth of his preparation. He knew the exact price of everything on the list and refused to budge an inch, no matter what Fernand tried. Perhaps if he¡¯d been drawn in to haggling, Fernand¡¯s Skills would¡¯ve activated and Hogg could¡¯ve been worn down, but his strategy of knowing the correct price and sticking to it no matter what seemed to be the hard counter to Fernand¡¯s Class. That only worked when both Fernand and Hogg knew he was right, though. Brin thought there might be Wyrd rules working there; if Hogg was ever mistaken as to the going rate or if he tried to bluff or lie, then he would be drawn into Fernand¡¯s power. Once during the negotiations, Hogg spoke to Brin using the silent voice they¡¯d been using earlier. ¡°We¡¯re coming up on glass. When he names a price, laugh.¡± ¡°...no less than one silver and eight pence for the fine wine glasses. Can you believe he paid that much?¡± Brin shook as if restraining a laugh, then barked out a loud ¡°Ha!¡± before clapping his hands to his mouth. ¡°Excuse me.¡± Fernand glared up at him. ¡°Tell me, Hogg. Is there a reason for the presence of this¡­ strange lost child?¡± ¡°Brin is my heir. Why shouldn¡¯t he be here? He¡¯ll need to take over some day. So what¡¯s the story, Brin? How much for a wine glass?¡± ¡°Unless it¡¯s so cloudy you can¡¯t see the wine, it should sell for two silvers a piece.¡± ¡°And how much can I reduce the price for bulk? Let¡¯s say for an order of forty?¡± Fernand asked with a smirk. ¡°Reduce? If you want forty wine glasses that all match, then you expect a markup! There aren¡¯t many [Glassers] that can be that consistent. I¡¯d round it off to a nice hundred silver,¡± said Brin. ¡°Ninety-eight point six!¡± Hogg said urgently in the Silent Voice. ¡°[Merchants] never round anything!¡± ¡°Or ninety-eight point six if we¡¯re being exact,¡± Brin finished. Fernand frowned, and didn¡¯t put up even a token resistance. ¡°Moving on¡­¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Hogg said to Brin in the Silent Voice again. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think I screwed up with the apples. The variety he¡¯s listed is different from the one I remember. I need you to find them for me. They¡¯re called Blouthe¡¯s Pearls.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try, but does it really matter that much? We¡¯ve already got everything else.¡± ¡°If I start haggling with him, I¡¯ll be under the power of his Skills. There¡¯s no telling what he¡¯ll be able to get me to agree to. Just find it!¡± Brin immediately spun up a directed thread to send out an Invisible Eye. He thought about creating a conscious thread to monitor it, but then decided to do that himself. He wasn¡¯t doing anything other than standing here listening. The Invisible Eye careened down the street, moving faster than Hogg¡¯s Visible Eye would¡¯ve been able to, and quickly found the market. He ignored the stalls and tables in the open air market, and zipped straight over to the one grocer who had a physical storefront. ¡°Mard¡¯s Grocery.¡± Mard¡¯s was much different from an Earth grocery store. Instead of tables and shelves where people could browse at their own convenience, all the inventory was behind a wall, and you had to tell the workers behind the counter what you wanted so they could fetch it for you. It prevented theft, and also stopped grannies from squeezing the melons. The inconvenience of it should''ve made it fail, but the [Porters] and [Sellers] that worked the counter had Skills that helped them fetch it so fast it was in your bag faster than you could say what you wanted. It meant that the line was never very long, but there was always a line at Mard¡¯s. How was he supposed to do this? He¡¯d imagined that he could have a Mirror Image ask for the price, but he really didn¡¯t want to wait for a line. He sent off a directed thread to create a Mirror Image and then wait in line with it in case everything else failed, but in the meantime he could try something else. ¡°Do you have Blouthe¡¯s Pearls?¡± Brin asked with his robotic text-to-speech voice. ¡°Pearls? We don¡¯t sell pearls,¡± responded the [Seller], a young man. The customer in line was a distracted-looking older woman, who said, ¡°Hm? I said nothing of pearls.¡± ¡°Blouthe¡¯s Pearl Apples!¡± Brin said. ¡°Who¡¯s talking?¡± asked the [Seller], peering around the woman, who herself was now looking around trying to figure it out. ¡°We have them, but you¡¯ll have to wait in line. Um. Sir?¡± said the [Seller]. ¡°How much?¡± Brin demanded. ¡°Um, whoever you are, you¡¯ll need to wait your turn please!¡± the [Seller] responded. Brin sent the Invisible Eye into the back. Rows of every kind of fruit, vegetable and bread were all stored in neat rows, and luckily everything was labeled. He zipped over to the fruit section and quickly found the exact apple he was looking for. It was a bit pinker than most apples, with a dull smooth skin devoid of wax. Great, now he knew what it looked like, but he was no closer to the price. Value Sense would tell him what they were worth, but he''d learned that there was a big difference between something''s value and what a [Merchant] would actually sell it for. He made a new directed thread, and started it on the Copy Light spell. Maybe he could¨C oh crap, back in the [Merchant¡¯s] house, Fernand was already asking about the apples. ¡°...quite an unpopular variety, you know,¡± Fernand was saying. ¡°Unpopular?¡± Brin asked, faking offense. ¡°Are you sure we¡¯re talking about the same apple?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt, child. I¡¯ve tolerated your presence, but I won¡¯t tolerate tantrums,¡± said Fernand. ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Westfield Apples aren¡¯t exactly unpopular.¡± Fernand looked down at his list. ¡°You¡¯re in error. These were Blouthe¡¯s Pearls.¡± ¡°Are you sure? Hold on. Let me make one,¡± said Brin. Brin activated the Copy Light spell, except instead of projecting the copy with light, he activated that portion of the spell with his glass magic. First he summoned a glass ball of the approximate size and shape of an apple with [Summon Glass]. Then he activated the second part of the Copy Light spell with [Shape Glass]. That would give him a better result since it was the more powerful Skill. Over the span of half a minute, Brin summoned a perfect replica of a Blouthe¡¯s Pearl Apple. For the first time, Brin¡¯s magic clashed with Fernand¡¯s, and it gave him the space to feel the argument through the Wyrd. Fernand started with the upper hand since his magic was actually suited towards this kind of conflict, but Brin¡¯s argument was solid. They were in the right here. This was Hogg¡¯s property, and he deserved to get an honest accounting of what had been done with it. Brin stepped over and placed the glass apple on Fernand¡¯s desk. ¡°Here, a gift.¡± Fernand grimaced. ¡°Yes, yes, that¡¯s the one. As I was saying¨C¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the one! What are you trying to pull?¡± Hogg said. He stood, knocking his chair to the ground. ¡°You¡¯ve broken your promise, Fernand. You¡¯re wasting my time. I¡¯m taking this to¨C¡± ¡°Wait!¡± Fernand commanded, and there was the weight of a powerful Skill behind it. Hogg stood waiting, with his arms crossed. Just then, Fernand¡¯s [Steward] opened the door. ¡°I heard a clatter. Is everything alright in here? Oh good heavens! Have you been standing there this whole time, young man?¡± He clapped. ¡°Fetch a chair, for Eridu¡¯s sake!¡± A servant brought in a chair immediately, which meant he¡¯d been standing behind the [Steward] with it. The servant set it next to Hogg¡¯s chair, and Brin sat before he remembered that Hogg was still standing. ¡°Wait,¡± Fernand repeated. ¡°This is my mistake, of course. But I¡¯ll tell you what. I¡¯ll give you the price as if they really had been Blouthe¡¯s Pearls. You¡¯ll concede that they were a much cheaper brand, yes?¡± Hogg grunted. Just in time, Brin¡¯s thread that was still searching the grocer found a chart with the prices. ¡°Mard¡¯s is selling them for six bits each,¡± said Brin. It was absolutely true, but he also knew it was unfair. Physical stores had to mark up the prices in order to pay the staff¡¯s wages and other costs. The regular price for apples should be two for a bit, and even this expensive brand wouldn¡¯t cost more than two bits each. ¡°Of course, six bits each,¡± said Fernand. It was a startling reversal, and Brin tried to feel if there was some trap, but the balance of the Wyrd remained the same. "Why would he try to change the variety to something more expensive?" Brin asked Hogg with the Silent Voice. "If we hadn''t caught him, he would''ve realized his ''mistake'' right before signing and then claimed we were trying to con him. He would''ve used that as leverage to redo the entire conversation again from the beginning." Hogg sat back down beside Brin. Again, Brin thought they were nearly done, and again he was disappointed. Now they had a number for what Hogg was owed, all together more than three thousand gold, but Fernand didn¡¯t have that much cash on hand so Hogg needed to select that amount of value out of his existing inventory. For the next half hour, they bickered and bartered over every inch of the products that Hogg would take ownership of. Most of what Hogg bought was weapons and armor, no doubt due to some of the information Lumina had shared in her letters. Of course, Fernand immediately smelled a scheme, so instead of just giving Hogg the equipment he was owed, made sure to weasel his way into making it a partnership. The negotiations were no less intense than before, but much of the tension had left the room. The [Steward] ended up bringing in tea and hard, flavorless cookies that maybe vegans or elderly Europeans might¡¯ve liked, and Fernand no longer treated Brin like a skunk that had snuck inside. In fact, he had a sixth sense for picking up on when Brin didn¡¯t understand something and always paused the negotiations to get him up to speed. When all was said and done, Fernand and Hogg shook hands, signed a contract, and then Fernand brought out a bottle of whiskey. He and Hogg had a glass while discussing milder topics. The weather, and Fernand¡¯s children, of which he apparently had six. When the glasses were empty, Fernand inspected his with a distant expression, and asked, ¡°Who do you have for shipping?¡± ¡°Wogan,¡± Hogg replied. Fernand paled. He set down the glass, groaned, and put his head down on his desk. ¡°That¡¯s it. We¡¯re screwed.¡± ¡°What? No, we¡¯re not! Wogan is a friend!¡± Brin objected. Uncle of a friend, really, but close enough. Fernand peered up from behind his bushy eyebrows. ¡°You don¡¯t get it. Nobody gets the advantage of a Prinnashian [Merchant]. They grew up in hell and flourished by being more cruel than all the demons. They¡¯re not human. They¡¯re brutal!¡± Hogg sniffed. ¡°I¡¯ll admit I¡¯m a bit nervous.¡± ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. You haven¡¯t met them. I have, and I¡¯m telling you they are cupcakes,¡± said Brin. Fernand ignored him. He leaned back into his chair and sighed. ¡°You know, it wasn¡¯t for your sake that I¡­ circumvented the crown¡¯s order to liquidate your assets. It would¡¯ve ruined me to sell all our stock at once. But now, hearing this? I wish I had just given everything I had to the bank rather than see it in the hands of those¡­ those monsters!¡± Brin looked back and forth between the two men in disbelief. ¡°Come on. It can¡¯t be that bad, can it?¡± Book 4 - Chapter 5
"First, you should change," Hogg said as they re-entered the black carriage. ¡°Do we have time for that?¡± ¡°I already sent a runner to tell the Wogans that we¡¯ll be late. And we made up some time with Riposto. It went a lot quicker than I expected.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± Brin didn¡¯t feel like it had been quick at all; it had been two hours of grueling negotiation, and they weren¡¯t even done. The contract had been signed, but there were still going to be dozens of meetings over the next few weeks to make sure it all went smoothly. ¡°I figured I¡¯d have to make a big show of walking away once or twice but the second I mentioned the royal auditors he folded and it was fairly straightforward after that. Which is good, it gives you time to get changed. I don''t think both of us wearing all black is going to send the right message." "Why not? What''s going on with the Wogans that''s got you so worried?" Jeeves clicked his tongue at the horses from the driver''s seat, and the black carriage began to move down the road. "Prinnashian [Merchants] have a reputation for being absolutely cutthroat. But if that''s all it was, I would deal with them the same way I dealt with Fernand. No, the problem here is that Sion is your friend, and his uncle is probably going to want to extend that to me and him as well. This is supposed to be a friendly negotiation. I''m going to have to be... nice." Brin laughed, but at the same time he understood that this was going to be an actual problem. "We''re screwed." "So first, we''ll head back so you can change." Brin could probably use illusion magic to change the color of his pants, but he didn''t know the exact spell for it right now, and also wasn''t sure if he wanted to keep a directed thread running just for that during the entire length of the negotiations. Each one was only a small load, but they added up. "Fine." The carriage took them home, and Brin changed into dark purple pants and a red shirt, not really because he knew if they matched or not, but because the tailor paired them when he''d purchased the set. He kept the black overcoat with the rainbow Marksi on the back. That reminded him to check on actual Marksi and found him sitting next to a campfire with Lurilan, still miles away from Blackcliff. They wouldn''t be back in time tonight, which was too bad. Marksi was an effective diplomat all on his own. Hogg, of course, met him outside wearing his usual black leathers. To his surprise, he announced that they were going on foot. "Oh, thank Solia," said Brin. "I think I''ll miss Jeeves, though. It was nice having you, Reginald. Don''t be a stranger now." "You know he''s a construct of hard light, right? Like one of your Mirror Images?" "Geez, say that out loud here in public, why don''t you?" Brin griped, but he noticed that Hogg had at least silenced the area against eavesdroppers. Rather than simply disappearing, Jeeves clutched his heart, and then spoke in a deeply resonant voice. "Ah, I see my purpose is fulfilled and that I am at an end. Woe is me!" "Um. Bye now," Brin said. "I think I''ll miss you most of all, Master the Mistaken. Oh no. NO! It''s happening. Death is upon me!" Jeeves¡¯ skin and flesh exploded from his black bones in a spray of shadow that splattered all around the ground in every direction. His coal-black bones stepped forward, mouth open in agony, before finally collapsing to the ground, melting into the pool of shadow on the ground. Eventually that too disappeared, seeping into the cracks of the cobblestone. Brin shook his head. "A little morbid, don''t you think?" Hogg grinned ghoulishly. "Face it, despite the fact that you know he''s a fake, you felt a little bad for him just then, didn''t you? You''re going to be a little worried about this until you see him again, aren''t you? Admit it, you are!" "No!" Brin said, though Hogg obviously wasn''t fooled. "Ok, wait, no, we need to talk about this. Why are you so comfortable with people knowing that you can make walking, talking clones? Your enemies are going to be expecting them now." Hogg tapped his nose. "And they''ll think the giveaway is the complete lack of color. They''ll look for people wearing black. By revealing a little, I conceal a lot." Brin folded his arms. "No, I''m not buying it. You''ve given away a key advantage with the Jeeves display." "You''re not seeing this the right way. I''m doing exactly what I''ve always done." Hogg shoved his hands in his coat pockets and stalked down the street. Brin followed. With his [Traveler] Achievement, his movement speed was increased when out of combat, but it worked so smoothly and seamlessly that he hardly noticed it unless he was looking for it. The city just seemed to sail by a bit faster, each step covered more ground. Hogg must''ve had Achievements like that as well, because Brin had to hurry to keep up with him. Halfway to the Wogans'' estate, Hogg said out of the blue, "I think I like the idea of people knowing what I can do." "What do you mean?" asked Brin. "Just what I said. Shoot. To think I could be this old and still have the System mess with my thinking. If the pitfall for [Illusionists] is defensiveness and being overly secretive, the danger of [Mages] is megalomania. I liked the way that those servants looked at us when we walked in with Jeeves by our side." Brin didn''t admit it out loud, but he''d kind of enjoyed that too. Hogg shrugged. "Well, the cat¡¯s out of the bag with shadow people. I''ll try not to reveal any more power, though." "Especially when they''re tied to my secrets as well," said Brin. "Nah. Why would I care about that?" Brin glared at him and Hogg laughed. The old guy was definitely nervous if he was laughing this much. When they arrived at the Wogan estate, it was the total opposite of what they¡¯d seen at the Riposto place. Instead of carefully trimmed shrubs and symmetrical planning, the Wogan gardens were made in such a way as to appear natural, as if they¡¯d just sprung up from the ground like that. And instead of coldness and intimidation, Glyn was standing at the gate himself with Sion by his side. Standing together, it was hard for Brin to see the family resemblance. Sion was lean and fit, while Glyn wore rolls of fat like a badge of honor. Also, Glyn was completely bald. Actually, Pio was bald too, wasn''t he? Was that a Prinnashian thing? Did Brin have to worry about that? He''d already been prematurely balding in his old life; it would be too cruel to have to deal with that in a completely new body. When he saw them arrive, Glyn held his arms out wide. "Ah here they are! Welcome! Truly, what an honor it is to finally meet." "I apologize for our tardiness," said Hogg. "I hope you weren''t waiting long." "Nonsense! Are you not even earlier than you told us you''d be? Only, I was so excited to see you that I could not help but wait at the gate. Come! Come inside and see my home. Only I hope you start to see it as yours! Brin and Sion have become such good friends. Like brothers! I hope that you and I will be great friends as well." "I''d like that very much, sir," Hogg said awkwardly. Glyn dropped his outraised arms and put forward a hand to shake. When Hogg clasped it, Glyn pulled him back into a hug. "Now, come and be welcome to my humble dwelling." With one arm still over Hogg''s shoulder, Glyn turned towards the mansion, and they began their walk across the gardens. "The grounds are beautiful. Those trees are a particularly nice touch. Not often you see multi-stemmed shrubs grown to the size of oaks. Your [Gardener] must be a rare talent," said Hogg. "Ah, this? It''s the best I could do with the limited resources we have out here in this humble outpost. If only you could see my home in Prinnash!" said Glyn.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Hogg nodded. From the surface he looked perfectly amiable, but Brin knew him well enough that he wanted nothing more than to throw off Glyn''s arm and start growling at everyone. "That''s right, the Wogans are centered outside of Aberquay, if I''m not mistaken." Glyn grinned in delight. "You are truly well-informed. Yes, indeed!" "I think I might have walked past your outer buildings once or twice. Do I remember a special red flower that grew on all the walls there? Heart Flower? Heart something." "Yes, yes!" Glyn said eagerly. "The Spice of Heart! You truly have been there if you remember that! If you see the rose bushes there, and then there. Those have been placed to be reminiscent of the flowers from my home. You Frenarians love your roses, do you not? I thought to keep the effect of my home while adapting to local sensibilities." Despite how Glyn acted like he had to point out the roses or Hogg and company might miss them, they grew in enormous, luscious hillocks that stood twice as tall as Brin. "They''re nice," agreed Hogg. "Aw, dear me. You hate them!" groaned Glyn. "Not at all! I only thought it would be nice to see the Spice of Heart again," said Hogg. "Say no more, my friend. If you do not like the roses, then they are gone." Glyn clapped his hands two times, and a veritable army of [Gardeners] sprung from the house and discreetly placed maintenance sheds to descend on the hills of roses. They descended upon them, chopping them down and tearing them out by the root. The work went absurdly quickly, and Brin saw a level 50 [Gardener] among the others, wearing the same standard work uniform. He was starting to understand now why Hogg was so nervous. How high leveled must Wogan be, if he could have a [Gardener] like that on staff? And he wasn''t even the leader of the family, just the head of a branch. "Oh, you don''t have to do that!" said Hogg. "My friend, how could I do anything else?" replied Wogan. The roses were removed and carted away, and then the [Gardeners] returned with wheelbarrows full of planters. The planters were filled with short stalks of green covered in very distinct red flowers, tipped with gold on the edge of the leaves. By the time that Brin and the others reached the house, the plot where the rosebushes had stood were nearly entirely covered with the new flowers. Brin glanced at Sion, who looked back with a pained smile. On the surface, it was an over-the-top display of the trademark Prinnashian friendliness, but really it was a tremendous show of strength. Glyn was doing exactly what Fernand had done. He was projecting strength to give himself the advantage for the upcoming negotiations; he was just a lot better at it than Fernand had been. Glyn wasn''t only saying "I am powerful." He was saying "I am effortlessly powerful, and you better choose your words carefully." Brin wondered if they really should have left Jeeves at home. Inside the house, they found a great hall not too different from Fernand''s, except that Glyn skipped the display of having all the servants line up for them. The mansion was actually built long rather than wide, so that when you walked through it, it was much bigger than it appeared from the inside. After the great hall, they went through a long, wide hallway with checkerboard floors and masterpiece paintings lining the walls. Hogg was careful to compliment everything as they went along. Brin got the feeling that the compliments were less about sucking up to his host, and more to display his knowledge. Like the Spice of Heart flower, Hogg seemed to know a bit of everything about who the Wogans were and where they came from. "That bench in the corner is Melting Cherry Wood, isn''t it? Glorious!" "Indeed it is, my friend. There isn''t a more comfortable wood for sitting." "This window isn''t glass. Can that be a solid sheet of diamond?" "Yes indeed. Good eye!" Glyn responded. Brin felt a little embarrassed that he hadn''t noticed it first; his magic wasn''t detecting that window at all. "That vase! No, not a vase. That can''t be a ritual urn from Theranor. It can''t be smuggled, so it must have been awarded by the Hierophant himself." "Yes, it was, though that happened in my grandfather''s time." The vase in question looked like a granite stone with a hole drilled into it, though Value Sense told Brin it was priceless. "The man on the horse in that painting. Do I detect a family resemblance!" "You flatterer! But you are correct. That is my grandfather''s grandfather. We were not always a house of [Merchants], you know." The painting depicted a fierce battle, with men in armor on both sides. Glyn''s great-great grandfather led a charge atop a white horse. The image was picture-quality perfect, but still had all the flair of creativity that came from a real [Artist]. Glyn accepted every compliment with grace, before finally pausing outside a door. Brin''s Invisible Eye told him there was an office on the other side. "You seem to me to be a man of refinement and impeccable taste," said Glyn. "No, no, that''s not¨C" Hogg began. Brin jumped in. "You''re right. He tries to hide it, but he is." "I have a tea from Polissia, a special import, and I''ve been waiting for the right moment to try it. I fear to try it myself without someone on hand who can help me to appropriately appreciate it. I fear the master of the tea houses here in Blackcliff have not quite managed to impress me." Hogg licked his lips, no doubt sensing a trap but being unable to turn away. "You''re right about the tea houses here. Overpriced for barely adequate tea. Hardly better than tearing the leaves off trees as you walk along and boiling that." "My thoughts exactly! Perhaps you could... Oh, but I forget myself. That''s not why you''re here. Come, we should discuss our arrangement." Glyn opened the door to a plain, tidy office with a single sheet of paper on an otherwise empty desk. The four of them filed in, with Hogg and Glyn facing each other across the desk, and Sion and Brin sitting together on the side. "We should discuss our terms. Only what is there to discuss? You need ships. I have ships! I will take your cargo where you wish it to go and sell it for you anywhere in the world. You can depend on me, my friend. Your profits will be quite tidy, I guarantee it!" "I don''t doubt that at all; no, in fact I feel a little bad. We''re talking about barely more than three thousand gold here. Is this even worth your time?" "This sum is nothing to be embarrassed about! And do not worry! We Wogans care for the future, not for a one-and-done sale. I see this as the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship." "I see. Good, that''s really good to hear." Hogg was floundering, but Brin couldn''t see a way to help. From the surface, everything looked perfectly cordial. "I went to the liberty to draw up a contract. All very standard stuff. You can read it if you''d like¨Cno, you should read it." The expression on Glyn''s face made it very clear that he didn''t actually expect Hogg to read it. Brin felt the pressure to sign quickly and get this over with, but it was subtle. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was pushing against his Mental Resistance, or if that was actually how he really felt. ¡°Uncle, they should certainly read it, don¡¯t you think?¡± said Sion. ¡°Of course! Did I not say they should?¡± said Glyn. ¡°Perhaps we might have a conversation about certain clauses¡­¡± Sion tried again. ¡°Surely such details are beneath their notice. Why bother these fine gentlemen with such triviality?¡± said Glyn. Hogg looked torn, and Brin could see the problem. He''d been a fair match for Fernand with time, wealth, and extreme preparation, but there was no way he''d be able to win a contest of negotiation with someone like Glyn. He had to depend on the Wogans'' good will. Refusing to sign would undoubtedly turn this into an unfriendly negotiation and would give them a worse outcome overall. "I don''t think that will be necessary," said Hogg. "Let me just find a pen..." Glyn''s eyes glinted. He held up a pen. "There''s one here." Brin couldn¡¯t sit by and let this happen. "Can I read it?" "It''s really nothing out of the ordinary," said Glyn. "That''s why I want to read it. This is nothing new for you or Hogg, but eventually I''ll need to be able to understand this stuff," said Brin. "Well, if you wish, I don''t see why not..." said Glyn. "I''m sure Master Wogan here has better things to do than sit here and help a complete novice understand a basic contract," said Hogg. He scrunched his face up in displeasure, but there was gratitude in his eyes. "No, who is this Master Wogan? Are we not friends? Please, Brin, take all the time you need. I have nothing else planned for tonight. Indeed, I always have time to instruct the next generation." He took Hogg¡¯s seat facing across from Glyn and looked down at the paper. He made his eyes move across it, but didn''t bother reading. With his Silent Voice, he asked Hogg, "Ok, run me through it. What am I looking at here?" "It''s a disaster," Hogg responded. "It''s completely one-sided. With that, Wogan could take everything we have and give us nothing in return. Not to say he would actually do that. He''ll be generous and probably give us more than we deserve, but it''ll be an act of charity on his part; he won''t have to give us a thin nickel. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I think I''ve got to sign." This was why Hogg had been so nervous about this meeting. As an [Illusionist], Hogg had always been able to act on his own terms and do business with whoever he wanted. He¡¯d probably chosen Fernand because that¡¯s how he liked to operate; a no holds barred slugging match where each side boldly stated their own case. A ¡°friendly¡± negotiation like this was completely out of his comfort zone. Brin winced and pushed the contract back towards the [Merchant]. ¡°Are you doing ok, Glyn?¡± Glyn sat up straight looking offended. ¡°How could I be doing anything other than most excellently?¡± ¡°Sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant to ask was, do you maybe need some money?¡± From the corner of his eye, he saw Hogg and Sion¡¯s eyes bulge out, and Glyn¡¯s jaw actually dropped. Brin rushed to continue. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong! I¡¯m not saying this to embarrass you. You¡¯re among friends here! There¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of. Even the best [Merchants] can fall on hard times once in a while and with the war against Arcaena and the conflict between Prinnash and Frenaria all sorts of things could¡¯ve happened! All I¡¯m saying is that maybe instead of a partnership, we can do something else to get you on your feet. Hogg and I will liquidate his inventory here in Blackcliff for a loss, and hopefully that will give you some breathing room until I can arrange for some real help. I know what I¡¯ll do! I¡¯ll write to Lumina. Would 50,000 pieces of gold be enough, do you think? You know what, I¡¯ll ask for 100,000 and see what she says.¡± Glyn tried to speak a couple times, making choking sounds and growing red in the face. ¡°The¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ the Wogan Mercantile Group does not require a bailout! I assure you, our finances are quite sound. I will throw open our records if you cannot believe my word!¡± Brin flinched when Glyn slapped the table to emphasize his last point. He stood up at some point and now was looming over Brin. He sighed and visibly attempted to calm himself, pushed out his coattails as he sat back down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Brin. ¡°No, no, the fault is mine,¡± said Glyn, though he clearly wanted Brin to keep apologizing. ¡°I said that I don¡¯t really understand this stuff; clearly I was completely wrong. I¡¯ve offended you.¡± ¡°Not so!¡± said Glyn. He tried his best at making a kindly smile. ¡°Is there some part of the contract that you take issue with?¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just not what I was expecting, I guess.¡± ¡°Show me the offending paragraph, and we shall strike it away!¡± promised Glyn. ¡°How about this? I¡¯ll write something up along the lines of what I was expecting, and you can correct it for me,¡± said Brin. ¡°Would you like me to bring in a [Solicitor] or [Scribe] to assist you?¡± asked Glyn. ¡°No need,¡± said Brin. ¡°This won¡¯t take long.¡± Using Silent Voice, Hogg said to Brin, ¡°No matter how good a contract you write up, he¡¯ll find some way to get the upper hand. He might not be showing it, but he¡¯s actually still kind of upset.¡± Responding the same way, Brin said, ¡°Give me the most one-sided, punitive contract you can think of. Trust me.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 6 Hogg started talking, and Brin used a couple Directed Threads to jot it down. For paper, he flipped the original contract around and started writing with the pen Glyn had given Hogg. It was a little strange at first to feel his arm moving without his direct control, but when he looked up and met Glyn¡¯s eyes it was easy to ignore it. DT2: Error. Please return vision to the target. Brin looked back down so that the directed threads could see what they were doing. While he wrote, he said, ¡°I¡¯m so dumb. I don¡¯t know why I could ever think you guys are hurting for money. This place is fantastic! A real paradise, and I know Sion is a practical person. There¡¯s no way you would live so well unless you could really afford it.¡± Glyn smiled, looking a little more at home with the direction this conversation was going. ¡°Ah, you flatter me. It¡¯s nothing much. Barely adequate, really, but well within our means.¡± ¡°So your problem must be something else.¡± Glyn¡¯s smile turned exasperated again. ¡°What problem? It is true that it is sometimes a trial to live so far from my dear family, but with Sion now here with me, life has never been better!¡± Brin shook his finger at Glyn, still writing with the other hand. ¡°You¡¯re trying not to burden me with it. I respect that, but I¡¯ll have it out of you! It must be a political problem. Did you run into trouble with a guild or a noble family?¡± ¡°Nothing of the sort! How can I make you believe me?¡± Brin used his free hand to pull the ring Lumina had given him out of the necklace he kept under his shirt, and set the pen down for a brief moment to put it on his finger. DT2: Error. Return pen to hand. Brin started writing again, Lumina¡¯s signet ring firmly on his finger. Sure, Sion had told Glyn that Brin was an [Archmage¡¯s] son, but he¡¯d never actually shown him the ring. It was one thing to hear a rumor, and it was another thing to see proof. ¡°Hogg and I are terrific at dealing with problems like that. Just today we thumbed the eye of the Hackman¡¯s Guild by bringing our own guy to drive the carriage. We¡¯re kind of hoping that they¡¯ll get offended and do something stupid so we can crush them. They probably won¡¯t, though. I bet they¡¯ll just roll over and take it.¡± Brin didn¡¯t know how much power the Hackman¡¯s Guild actually had, honestly, or if they would be offended by what Hogg had done. He was just trying to say things that an arrogant young noble would say. ¡°But why? Have they offended you?¡± asked Glyn. Brin shrugged. ¡°No reason. Just bored, I guess. But I don¡¯t think a guild could stifle the Wogan Mercantile Group. I respect you guys more than that.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± said Glyn. ¡°It¡¯s not like we haven¡¯t done any research. We looked you up, and you¡¯re a big deal. You¡¯re nearly as untouchable in Prinnash as I am here in Frenaria.¡± ¡°Quite kind, but I would never go so far as that,¡± Glyn said with a little more uncertainty. ¡°It¡¯s a noble house, isn¡¯t it? Tell me the name and I¡¯ll take care of it. Lumina won¡¯t get upset if I crush one little noble house here in Blackcliff. I bet she¡¯d even let me seize the title if I wanted. I¡¯ve never really wanted a title, but maybe you could use one? It would be easier to do business in Frenaria if you had lands and a protectorate.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not necessary,¡± said Glyn. ¡°It¡¯s really fine. Frenaria doesn¡¯t sweat the little things when it comes to the family of an [Archmage].¡± ¡°That is very comforting to hear,¡± said Glyn. ¡°However, my own country might see it as disloyal.¡± Brin had an idea. He created a conscious thread, with the idea that it should use his illusion magic to make himself look a little more frightening. Main: Make sure to be subtle, I don¡¯t want to give away that I¡¯m an [Illusionist]. CT1: Yeah, I got that. I was literally a part of you when you had this idea, remember? He looked down, pretending to busy himself with the contract he was writing. Time sped up, and his brain seemed to be moving double time. He could still hear Hogg telling him what he should write, but he tuned it out; his directed thread was dealing with that. Glyn pretended not to be reading it as Brin wrote, but he could see the growing concern and the offense in the man¡¯s features. His hand stopped. Hogg was done. He picked the paper up and skimmed over it while stalling for time. Hogg had really gone all out, just from the first parts Brin could see, it dictated that Wogan turn over the shipping portion of his business to Brin, pay him for the privilege, and guarantee to cover any losses should the venture not be as profitable as they hoped. Finally, his thread put a message in the master log. CT1: Alright, I made your eyes lose all their color and the pupils are larger and blacker; they should look like pits into the void now. I also made your skin turn grayish and your clothes darker. I darkened it all gradually over the course of a few minutes, so he shouldn¡¯t have even noticed it happened. I also pitched your voice down a little. I¡¯m going to go into low power mode until this is done so you don¡¯t get distracted by the influx of new memories. DT4 is maintaining the illusion. Perfect. He felt time go back to close to normal, and then looked up to meet Glyn¡¯s eyes and spoke slowly. ¡°Why do you look so nervous? Don¡¯t worry about a thing. You don''t have anything to fear. There¡¯s no one who can touch you at all if I¡¯m on your side, Glyn. There¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t do; no, there¡¯s nothing I won¡¯t do for the people I care about.¡± ¡°Yes, I quite understand,¡± said Glyn. Brin put the paper down and slid it towards Glyn. Glyn picked it up, pretending that he hadn¡¯t already read every word. ¡°So what do you think? Like I said, it¡¯s my first time writing a contract. Did I do a good job?¡± He put on just the hint of a mocking smile. ¡°Yes. Excellent. This is very¡­ thorough,¡± said Glyn. Main: To DT4, please fade out your illusions over the next thirty seconds. DT4: Understood. ¡°What? No!¡± said Brin. ¡°I was just writing random stuff down. I had hoped you could look it over and see what I did wrong.¡± ¡°I see no mistake,¡± Glyn said grimly. ¡°I¡¯ll sign immediately. Where is my pen?¡± Brin offered Glyn his pen back, but Glyn refused. ¡°You keep that one. I¡¯ll find another.¡± He took a second pen from a compartment under the desk. ¡°No.¡± Brin shook his head slowly. ¡°No. I¡¯m not sure why, but I get the feeling that you¡¯re only signing this to make me happy. I don¡¯t think this is a very good deal for you.¡± ¡°That could not be further from the case!¡± said Glyn. He signed his name on the bottom with a flourish. ¡°See? It¡¯s done. My friends, let us celebrate! I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship!¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Something was wrong. It wasn¡¯t the fact that Glyn had signed; he¡¯d been expecting that. No, what was weird was that he hadn¡¯t even the hint of a Skill trying to mess with his emotions. Not when Glyn had made a big ostentatious display of power, not when he¡¯d pressured them to sign quickly, and not now. Glyn didn¡¯t have any of the [Merchant] mind Skills. Or he wasn¡¯t using them. ¡°No. I can¡¯t agree to this,¡± said Brin. He picked up the contract and tore it in half, then tore the pieces in half again and again. DT4: Illusions fully faded out. Returning. CT1: Returning. ¡°I refuse to win if that means that you lose. We need to figure out something where we both win, or we shouldn¡¯t do business at all. I¡¯m not going to sacrifice our friendship just so I can scoot sharp pieces of metal around in a boat,¡± said Brin. Glyn scowled, but Brin couldn¡¯t help but feel that he looked a little happy. ¡°But my young friend, there was nothing at all the matter with the contract you drew up!¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°What are you talking about? We gain ownership of your vessels? I can¡¯t believe I thought that would be a good idea. We should do what your contract said! You take ownership of the goods the moment they go onboard. You can pay us what you think is fair after the goods have been sold and after all your expenses.¡± ¡°Madness!¡± Glyn said. ¡°What I think is fair may not be what you think is fair! You''ll have all the profits after expenses. These are your items, are they not? Although, I will admit, there was a reason I asked for complete ownership in the original contract. I have Skills that improve the quality of goods while they are in my possession. This isn¡¯t a simple trick of Value Sense, either, but an actual increase in quality. Your armor will be stronger, and enchantments will see increased potency.¡± Brin was about to use Silent Voice to ask Hogg to step in, because he was quickly getting out of his depth here, but the old guy didn¡¯t need prodding. He said, ¡°Well hold on now, I can¡¯t let you give us a hundred percent of profits. You have to at least take what House Caravala would ask for.¡± ¡°I could never!¡± Glyn said, aghast. ¡°What do you take me for? House Caravala is nothing but [Thieves] and [Rogues]! They¡¯d ask for seventy percent. No! No my friend, you must let me give you the seventy percent.¡± ¡°Ridiculous!¡± Hogg said with a snort. ¡°Try again.¡± ¡°Sixty?¡± Glyn tried. ¡°Thirty-five,¡± said Hogg. Glyn held his heart as if he¡¯d been stabbed. ¡°How could you wound me with such a suggestion?¡± Hogg seemed to find his feet after that. He quickly started to understand that he could be as mean and nasty as he always was, only this time he spent that energy arguing for the opposite side. Gradually, they both phased Brin out of the conversation, and neither seemed to notice when he vacated the chair and went back over to sit next to Sion. ¡°Excellently done, my friend,¡± Sion whispered. ¡°I feel a little bad. Did I go overboard just now?¡± asked Brin. ¡°No, no! If anything you could have gone much further!" For the rest of negotiations, Brin was content to sit and listen. Much of the conversation was above his ability to contribute, if not exactly above his head. Actually, this was where he was comfortable. He¡¯d sat in on a few meetings like this in his old life, but it was always as a technical expert, never really as the prime stakeholder. He started to paint a picture of what kind of Skills Glyn had by the things he didn''t budge on. At no point could Hogg and Brin claim any kind of ownership, not as partners or even as investors. This was because Glyn''s Skills only worked for himself. His products would find their way to the hands of people who needed them. His potatoes would multiply in quantity as he stored them, his workers would find more money in their pockets than he had given them, and the cargo holds of his ships would be free of rats or mold¨Cbut only if they were his. Throughout the conversation, a steady stream of servants came in and out offering treats. Sion, Hogg, and Glyn ignored them completely, while Brin nibbled at a few cookies to be polite. The negotiation concluded with a complex scheme where Glyn would give Hogg a partial payment immediately for the products he''d be shipping, and the remainder would be paid with a line of credit whose value was tied to the eventual sale price. Hogg wanted to keep investment in the venture even though he couldn''t keep ownership, and this seemed to be the best he could get while also keeping Glyn''s Skills working at their best. After the majority of the details had been worked out with the back and forth infighting, the two of them had then worked together to figure out how to keep the bulk of the profits for themselves and cut out Fernand. When the two men finally stood and shook hands, there was obvious relief on Hogg''s face, while Glyn seemed excited and stimulated by the confrontation. "And now, did I not promise you the finest tea in Blackcliff? Come, come and see how the Wogan family makes good on their boasts!" "Uncle, my friend Brin has no taste for such things. We would not bore you with our presence," said Sion. Glyn leaned to the side towards Hogg and said conspiratorially, "By that he means that he is bored of me. Run along, then, you scallywag! No need to listen to this old man drone on any longer." "Uncle! How could you say this? You know that I would never call you old," said Sion. "Ha! You see what I put up with?" Glyn asked Hogg, and the two of them left down the hall. Sion led Brin to the portion of the mansion that he was starting to realize was his personal space. Up some stairs and to the side, there was a lavish sitting room and a nice balcony looking down over one of Blackcliff''s famous black cliffs to the city below. They sat on the balcony, and a [Maid] followed them to stand near the door, clearly waiting for something. "My friend, what can I offer you? And I know you would rather spare us both the usual song and dance, so answer me truthfully." That was a rather abrupt departure from the script coming from Sion, so Brin smiled to show he appreciated it and answered. "Bread, maybe? Nothing sweet. I ate too many cookies in the room, and I don''t think my stomach can handle any more. Honestly, I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up." Sion gave one glance to the [Maid], who nodded and left without a word, then shook his head at Brin. "You were nervous? Then think of my poor uncle! Did you see the look on his face when you told him in your direct Brinny way that you could kill anyone you wished and get away with it? I''ve never seen his face turn that particular shade of green, and I tell you this most truthfully." "Green? I remember red. I thought he was going to snap my head clean off." "That was not anger, but embarrassment. That was when he realized that you had just done exactly what he had tried to do to you. He lured you in and then brazenly delivered a show of strength under the guise of friendship, and then tossed a ludicrously one-sided contract in your face. I must apologize most humbly, I never would have invited you here if I knew he would behave himself in such a fashion." Brin shrugged. "The contract we ended up with was pretty similar to the one he showed us in the first place. There was a reason it looked like that; it''ll benefit us both in the end." "In my uncle¡¯s defense, the Frenarians we have worked with have asserted themselves most aggressively, and I fear he may have picked up some poor habits. But that¡¯s no excuse! He should have explained it all honestly from the start, rather than hint that you need not even read it," said Sion. "However..." He let the word hang in the air, looking reluctant. "Go on." "Despite how it looks, I must tell you that my uncle would never call someone friend and then take advantage of them," said Sion. "I believe you.¡± ¡°If my uncle was upset by how you acted, it was only because you removed his ability to prove his sincerity by overdelivering on every promise.¡± Brin stretched out his neck, surprised at the tension there. Give him a horde of zombies to fight any day; tense conversations were the worst. ¡°Honestly if it had only been me, I probably would¡¯ve let it happen. But it would¡¯ve driven Hogg crazy. He¡¯s the type of guy who needs to be respected rather than liked.¡± The [Maid] returned, setting a tray of food down on an end table near their patio before leaving again. There was bread like Brin had asked for, in three varieties with butter and several different options for jam. She¡¯d also brought a charcuterie board spread of meat and cheeses, as well as a hearty and spicy-smelling stew. Orange juice, beer, milk and wine stood in pitchers. As well as one clear glass pitcher of ice water. Brin raised his eyebrow at the water. ¡°Nice.¡± Sion chuckled and poured himself a glass. Brin took the bowl of stew, and quickly found that it was exactly what he needed. Warm, filling, and bursting with flavor. ¡°Can I ask you something? And seriously no pressure if this is too personal, but why didn¡¯t I feel any sort of mental manipulation while we were talking to Glyn?¡± Sion choked on his water. He coughed, then said, ¡°Did we also fail to strike you across the face six times? Did no one throw offal at your clothes? Has no one spit upon you? Honestly, Brin, how could you ask such a thing?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think maybe a Frenarian [Merchant] would put up a token effort to test my mental resistance, just to show that he¡¯s taking me seriously.¡± ¡°Frenarian madness! If you ever get the urge to place a knife in my stomach in order to prove to me that you take me seriously, I beg you to please refrain!¡± Brin held up his hand in apology. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not saying he should have. I¡¯m glad he didn¡¯t. I guess what I¡¯m getting at is¡­ See how I¡¯m a [Glasser], so everything is about [Shape Glass]. Every time I get the choice, I¡¯ll upgrade [Shape Glass], unless some other Skill will improve that ability even more. Like, I took [Memories of Glass], but that¡¯s only because it would make [Shape Glass] better faster than a direct upgrade. Do [Merchants] have a base Skill like that?¡± ¡°Ah, I see what you¡¯re saying. No, this is no secret. The Skill you are looking for is [Bargain]. And we the humble grifters of Prinnash neglect it badly. After all, why bother advancing a Skill if you could be executed on the spot for ever using it?¡± ¡°Is it really that bad?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Worse, I imagine. But this weakness is to our gain. We cannot trick people into doing a deal, so we make them need to do business with us. We spend all our Skill on things that directly increase our wealth. Trades that would be losses for others are profitable for us. Other [Merchants] make their gold on the negotiating table. When a Wogan finally gets to the negotiating table, everything has already been decided.¡± Brin grinned at the obvious pride in Sion¡¯s voice. He finished the soup, and turned to the bread. Time to shake the world with an unparalleled invention from Earth. He took two pieces of bread, put meat and cheese between them, and made a sandwich. Sion barely noticed. ¡°It¡¯s convenient that all your Skills only work if you have ownership. How is a [Warrior] or [Knight] supposed to abduct you in the middle of the night and force you to work for his household if all your Skills turn useless the minute you¡¯re not in business for yourself?¡± ¡°Ah, yes, it is a truly terrible coincidence,¡± Sion said. ¡°But you are mistaken in one thing; they would not bother to wait until the middle of the night.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 7 The next day, Brin woke with a kind of manic energy, a pressure to make progress in all the little things he¡¯d been working on. Things were changing, people were moving, and one way or another, these slow peaceful days were coming to an end. He¡¯d been through this in the past, but unlike before, this time he actually had a deadline. In two weeks Lumina would tell him what she had planned for him; he would either join her in the tower or go into hiding somewhere else. Two weeks to finish everything. He wanted to start right away. The laser he was working on was close, he knew it, but he hadn¡¯t quite cracked it yet. But as soon as he entered the workshop, Davi knocked on his door for their usual workouts. Davi was only able to make it about once every three mornings, so Brin couldn¡¯t blow him off in favor of a project he could do any time. When Brin opened the door, he noticed that Davi¡¯s status still read [Bard]. That made sense, he supposed, since [Bards] were beloved and not everyone knew what a [Skald] was. Davi was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He grunted a good morning, and then indicated the road with his shoulder. Brin nodded, and together they set off. It was too early for words. For Davi at least. Brin had woken up positively wired, but he understood the feeling. They never got around to commissioning another set of weights. Jeffrey had told Davi that lugging around heavy weights or buying a new set in every city wasn¡¯t a sustainable lifestyle for a [Bard] and insisted that he think of something else. After some thought, Davi had found a lumberyard that would let him lug some of their heavy logs around in the mornings. People basically let [Bards] do whatever they wanted. They jogged to the lumberyard in question, and Brin enjoyed the cool morning air. None of the [Carpenters] or [Woodworkers] had arrived yet, but a few preteens who hadn¡¯t been through System Day yet were already there and sweeping the shop. Davi started right off by heaving a tree trunk ten feet long and a foot wide over his shoulders, and then starting in on squats. That couldn¡¯t be right. If you only got the chance to work out two times a week, it didn¡¯t seem fair that either of those days should be leg day. Brin sighed and hefted a slightly smaller trunk over his shoulders and got to work beside his friend. For most of the hour or so that they exercised, Brin was breathing too hard to want to make conversation, but he did manage to ask, ¡°What have you been up to lately?¡± ¡°[Bard] life. Singing songs, telling tales. Actually, Blackcliff isn¡¯t a bad spot for me. As long as we keep to the taverns and public houses near the docks, Blackcliff isn¡¯t as restrictive on [Bard] magic as Oud¡¯s Bog was, so I can get some real practice in. Mostly I¡¯ve been working on the Epic of Hammon¡¯s Bog.¡± ¡°Really? I thought that was done,¡± said Brin. ¡°You played it while we killed all those sea monsters.¡± ¡°No, that was just a small portion of it. The Fight Song of Hammon¡¯s Bog, maybe. An epic needs to be at least ten minutes long. Twenty is better. Also, I¡¯ve been redoing parts of it. Ever since I became a [Skald] I¡¯ve had tons of new ideas about how the music should go.¡± Brin got one notification for his efforts. Through training you have received the following attribute: Vitality +1 "What''s your plan for today?" Davi asked as they were wrapping up. "I was going to meet up with Myra and Sion later. Zilly will probably show up." "Hogg came into some money, and I think he means to do some shopping." Then Brin remembered what it would mean to have Sion and Zilly together in the same room. "Oh, but I want to come with you instead. Let''s go back and wash up, and then we can head out together. You can use my shower." Davi looked down at himself, seeing a shirt soaked in sweat. "Why? I''m not dirty." "Just trust me." The run home was almost too much for Brin after a leg-focused workout, but he managed to get the entire way home without tripping or otherwise embarrassing himself. He showered first, and then convinced Davi to take one as well. He didn''t have anything in Davi''s size for him to change into, but it was better than nothing. Originally, he''d invited Myra, Zilly and Davi to stay with him and Hogg, but they''d all turned him down for different reasons. Myra had opted to stay with the caravan; she''d be traveling on with them when they left Blackcliff. With their leader dead and so many others coming on or leaving, it was a completely different group now, and she wanted to get to know everyone before they left. Davi had been forbidden by Jeffrey. Part of his [Bard] training meant that he needed to mooch off of people, apparently, and Brin was too easy. Davi had to find a new home to give up one of their beds each night, and he wasn''t to eat anything that wasn''t provided for free. By the time Davi was done, Hogg was starting to stir, so Brin made the three of them breakfast, though Davi made him promise he wouldn''t tell Jeffrey. When Hogg entered the room and sat down at the table, Brin had the food ready and he set down a plate of fried mato, bacon, and eggs. Mato wasn¡¯t actually a common food here in Blackcliff, and Brin honestly didn¡¯t like it at all, but somehow it had ended up in his pantry and Davi liked it. He put together plates for himself and Davi, and accidentally left off the mato from his own plate. Hogg moved slowly, looking a little worn out. He gazed at nothing and by the time he had taken three bites, Davi was nearly done. ¡°I did some shopping,¡± Hogg announced out of nowhere. ¡°When? We got home pretty late last night. Everything was closed.¡± Clearly, money could open closed doors. Hogg was such a kid. Now that he was rich again, he had stayed up all night shopping while Brin was asleep. Instead of answering, Hogg reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a slim paper package. He tossed it on the table. Brin opened it. Inside was a red cylinder-shaped ruby. ¡°Is this¡­ how did you find this?¡± Brin had gone to several different [Jewelers] and other crafting Classes, and no one had been able or willing to make something like this for a reasonable fee. They all wanted to start with a really big ruby and whittle it down, and none of them seemed to have the Skills to magically reshape any old ruby into the right configuration. It was frustrating, because he was fairly certain Toros from Hammon¡¯s Bog could¡¯ve done that easily. Hogg didn¡¯t answer, and Brin didn¡¯t particularly care. He left the rest of his breakfast and ran through the door, down the hall, and into his workshop. Davi followed him, still chewing after hastily downing the rest of his breakfast. ¡°So what¡¯s that for?¡± Davi asked. Brin¡¯s first instinct was to evade the question, but there was no reason. Davi was one of the few people who knew he was an [Illusionist]. And honestly, he thought it was time to bring the rest of his friends into the loop as well. After all they¡¯d been through, he thought he should tell Myra, Zilly, and Sion about his Class, if only because they were probably going to find out on their own eventually anyway. That was a thought for another time. ¡°This device here is a laser.¡± He decided to use the Earth word for it, since he still hadn¡¯t found anyone here that had heard of them. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to make a special kind of light beam. It¡¯s different from regular light because it¡¯s more concentrated so it¡¯ll be stronger, and it¡¯s synchronized so it won¡¯t spread out or dissipate as easily over long distances.¡± This whole project had been significantly more difficult than he¡¯d assumed at first. He had always thought that a laser used a series of lenses to focus the light into a beam. But then he¡¯d found a diagram of the first ruby laser, and realized that was completely wrong. Apparently it was more like a flashlight, with two parallel mirrors that synchronized the light by bouncing it back and forth through a medium in the middle.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. It seemed simple when he just saw a picture, but that was until he had to figure out how to make the medium, or what it meant when it said that one of the mirrors was ¡°partially reflecting.¡± Also annoying was the fact that the particular memory he¡¯d retrieved the diagram from had his roommates playing Call of Duty in the background. That at least had been easily solved when he realized that he could just have a directed thread copy it down for him. ¡°So what¡¯s it for?¡± asked Davi. Brin scratched his head. He doubted he¡¯d be using lasers for optical storage or communication any time soon, not unless he found a lot of information in his memories that he¡¯d somehow overlooked. ¡°Maybe I could use it to burn things? Hard to say. I mostly wanted to make it because I had the diagram in my memories. And because lasers are cool! Here, let me turn it on.¡± He didn¡¯t actually turn on anything. The one advantage he had against people on earth was that he didn¡¯t need to break up the perfect mirrors inside the shell by putting a light source or battery inside. He was the light source. He pumped the laser full of clean, white light. A beam of light flashed out of a circle in the front of the tube, and bounced off two mirrors until it reached the place where the mirror that Rhun had been messing with should be. Brin picked it up and put it back, and then carefully adjusted it until the light hit the next mirror just right to bounce through the other three he¡¯d set up. It ended by making a pale white dot on the wall. Davi put his hand down to interrupt the beam in a few places, looking at how it was the same dot and the same size no matter where in the setup he was. ¡°Is that it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as cool during the day, but at night¨C¡± Davi shook his head. ¡°I mean, is that a laser? If it¡¯s already working, why do you need that gemstone?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± ¡°Kind of an expensive thing to get if you¡¯re not sure why you need it,¡± said Davi. ¡°No, I mean I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s already working. It needs a medium, and I made one out of glass, but I honestly can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s working or if that¡¯s just regular light. It seems to be a laser, but I can¡¯t tell.¡± What he really meant was that the System hadn¡¯t given him any awards, and he thought it should if he actually invented a real laser. Even though laser beams had been theorized by Einstein in 1917, no one had actually succeeded in making one until the sixties. Brin decided that was enough of a demonstration, and cut the light. He bent over and started pulling off the top of the cylinder with [Shape Glass]. He¡¯d actually made this the regular way, by creating actual glass in his oven and stretching it out with tools. It made better glass if he did it by hand for some reason, so the only magic he¡¯d used was to heat the oven and to harden and strengthen the glass as it was cooling. With the lid undone, he withdrew the old glass medium and put the ruby in its place. It didn¡¯t quite fit, so Brin had to resize the cylinder. It took a surprising amount of Mana to widen the hardened glass, and there was always a chance it would compromise the quality, but he was too impatient to make another one right now. Once he had the ruby secure, he placed the top back on and used [Shape Glass] to reseal it. Before he even turned on his light magic, the System had something to say. Congratulations! Through your act of creativity, you have increased the following Skills! Shape Glass: 39 -> 41 Summon Glass: 28 -> 29 Call Light through Glass: 45 -> 46 Level up! 37 -> 38 +5 Strength +1 Dexterity, +2 Vitality, +2 Magic, +3 Mental Control, +1 Will, +2 free attributes. Alert! You have received a new Achievement! Inventor (Common) Without aid, you recreated a complex invention based on a technical diagram. You can now hide details about your creations from Inspect. This ability improves with Hide Status. Would you like to merge this Achievement with Celebrated? No abilities or benefits will be lost. ( Y / N ) Brin laughed out loud. He¡¯d been hoping that he¡¯d get some benefit from this, but he¡¯d never expected it would be this much. A new level! Most people never got to level 38 in their entire lives, and at this rate he¡¯d be at 40 before he turned 16. As for the Achievement, he figured he had nothing to lose and let the merge happen. The Achievement turned into [Celebrated Creativity], and like it had said he didn¡¯t lose anything, but he didn¡¯t gain anything either. It only combined them to save space on his status screen. ¡°Did you just get a level?¡± asked Davi with a grin. ¡°Yes!¡± Brin cheered. ¡°And an Achievement!¡± Davi widened his eyes in surprise. ¡°Then this is really going to be something cool, huh? Turn it on!¡± Brin didn¡¯t need any encouragement. He pushed a huge amount of light into the laser, so bright it would be nearly blinding. A red beam appeared, maybe invisible to someone without an [Illusionist¡¯s] affinities, but the red dot it created on the wall was plainly visible. ¡°Is that it?¡± asked Davi. ¡°Shut up! This is amazing!¡± Davi was shamefaced. ¡°No, I meant, is that what you were going for? Obviously it¡¯s really cool. It¡¯s such a straight line and¨C¡± Brin laughed. ¡°You¡¯re fine; I¡¯m aware that it¡¯s not much to look at. Yes, this is what I was going for. You¡¯re going to have to trust me when I say that this is huge.¡± The way that the laser felt to his senses was entirely unique. He¡¯d known for a while now that his glass magic let him sense the nearby glass, but he¡¯d never really made the connection that he could sense light and sound in the same way. After all, he had eyes and ears for that, and they generally did a better job. But now the laser felt different from anything he¡¯d ever experienced before. It was like the first time he¡¯d tried curry; strange and foreign, but delicious. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± said Hogg, making Brin jump. The old guy must¡¯ve snuck in behind them, Brin hadn¡¯t even realized he was there. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like that,¡± said Hogg. ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if you had,¡± said Brin. Davi put his finger in front of the beam. ¡°It¡¯s hot.¡± Brin tried, and found it was true. Not enough to hurt him with his [Heat Resistance], but enough to set paper on fire, maybe, if he held the beam on it long enough. ¡°So that¡¯s what I was missing. The ruby isn¡¯t just synchronizing the light, it¡¯s also magnifying it.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t believe you find this after I give up my light magic. I can¡¯t even see what you¡¯re doing there,¡± Hogg said with his arms folded. Brin noticed that he was speaking in the Silent Voice and his mouth wasn¡¯t moving, so he didn¡¯t respond. Brin picked up the laser and started pointing it around, then handed it to Davi when he begged for a turn. ¡°Marksi is going to love this!¡± Brin said. ¡°Where is the little guy?¡± asked Davi. Brin checked the screen his directed thread had running. Marksi was near enough to Blackstone that he could see the city walls. ¡°Out with Lurilan. He¡¯ll be back in an hour.¡± Davi shrugged. ¡°Well, we should probably start heading over if we¡¯re going to meet the girls.¡± He tried to hand the laser to Hogg, but he refused. Brin took it back. Hogg bit his lip, frowning at the device. ¡°Do me a favor. Figure out how to make one of these in the language.¡± Brin met his eyes and nodded. What would a laser of hard light even look like? It would either be a superweapon, or it wouldn¡¯t work at all. Brin and Davi headed out, and Brin left his new laser at home, but that didn¡¯t mean he had to stop working on it. He kept a directed thread with an Invisible Eye in the workshop so that any time he wanted to turn it on again he could just create a Conscious Thread back there. As they walked they chatted easily about all the ways that city living was inferior to good old Hammon¡¯s Bog, and Brin didn¡¯t need his full brainpower for that. He created a conscious thread with the instruction that it should try to create a laser entirely out of illusion magic. It succeeded surprisingly quickly. Only five or six city blocks down the road, he felt a tug on his mana and then saw a pale red dot on a white cobblestone in front of him, too. Level up! Call Light through Glass: 46 -> 50 Davi noticed it as well. ¡°Is that what I think it is?¡± Brin nodded. Davi punched his shoulder. ¡°Nice!¡± Brin smiled and did a fist pump, and the pale dot faded away. He waited. Nothing happened. He went to his log. Main: Hey, what are you doing? Return already! I want to know how you did that! CT1: Returning. The insight hit him all at once. At first he¡¯d tried to copy the way the laser had felt and conjure it directly. They called that intrinsic casting, meaning that he created the light on instinct without using the Language. It hadn¡¯t worked; he wasn¡¯t familiar enough with it yet. So he¡¯d recreated the laser with light. It hadn¡¯t been too difficult. Making mirrors out of illusion magic was one of the first things he¡¯d ever learned. Then, rather than making the entire laser, he¡¯d just used intrinsic casting to create the medium, using the feeling of how the light had felt as it transformed as his guide. He needed to check his [Memories in Glass] three times to remember the exact feeling perfectly, but when it worked it happened right away. There had been one clear problem; the light bouncing off his illusionary mirrors was a strong and constant drain on his Mana. He¡¯d been in the middle of thinking that over when he¡¯d been interrupted by¡­ himself. Still, the four extra levels in [Call Light through Glass] proved it had been worth doing. He could make lasers! Brin turned the corner and bumped straight into his friends. Zilly was stern faced and facing Rhun, a hand on the hilt of her sword. He glowered back at her, fire in his eyes. Myra stood between them, looking concerned, and a small crowd had gathered at a distance around them. Sion was back in the crowd, looking resigned. ¡°Oh. Yeah, I figured this was going to happen,¡± said Brin. ¡°Don¡¯t pat yourself on the back too hard,¡± said Myra. ¡°Anyone with half a brain knew this was going to happen.¡± Rhun turned his glower to Myra. ¡°Well?¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± Myra said. She took two long steps back, away from Zilly and Rhun. Then she stage-whispered to Brin. ¡°I¡¯m playing referee.¡± ¡°Get on with it!¡± said Rhun. ¡°Fine. You remember the rules? First blood. No killing, and no permanent injury,¡± said Myra. ¡°I promise not to kill you,¡± Zilly said with a cocky grin. ¡°Hmph,¡± said Rhun. ¡°Begin,¡± said Myra. Book 4 - Chapter 8 Myra raised her hand to the air, signaling the start to the fight, then quickly took two steps back. Both Rhun and Zilly blurred into motion, launching at each other. Zilly used [Dash] which let her exit or enter combat at breakneck speed, but Rhun moved just as fast and Brin didn¡¯t know what Skill he was using. Rhun¡¯s [Hide Status] was blocking his Skills, but now that Brin was seeing it in action, he might get more detail. He used [Inspect]. Charge [22] - A Warrior moves forward. Rhun can activate this Skill to run forward with nigh-unstoppable momentum. Extra attack damage while charging. Extra damage protection while charging. This Skill has been upgraded twice. [Inspect] leveled up! 40 -> 41 Zilly reacted just in time to redirect her [Dash] away again. She came back in, still at breakneck speed to hit Rhun from the side. Rhun pivoted, smoothly dropping out of his [Charge] to switch his sword to his left hand and block Zilly¡¯s thrust. She followed up with a quick series of slashes and cuts, but Rhun parried each one with practiced motions. He managed a slice that came within a hair of Zilly¡¯s neck, but she [Dashed] away again to avoid it. With some space between them, the opponents stood and eyed each other for a moment, considering. Every [Warrior] had to take either [Iron Body] or [Blade Mastery], so Brin guessed that they were both wondering which the other one had. Since Zilly wasn¡¯t actually a [Warrior], she would need to pretend to have [Blade Mastery]. Rhun was a real [Warrior], though. Which would he have? His swordsmanship was good enough to pass for [Blade Mastery], but he might¡¯ve just been dedicated to his training. Zilly [Dashed] forward again, and this time Rhun stood his ground and waited for her. She swung, a straight and powerful downward swing. Rhun moved to block, looking confident that he would be able to press her back. After all, Zilly was a Dexterity-main, and he¡¯d probably focused on Strength. It was a bad move. The gap in levels alone probably made Zilly stronger than him, and that was to say nothing of Skills. Right at the last moment, Brin saw the tell-tale weight and energy enter Zilly¡¯s sword that meant she¡¯d used [Overload]. The clash of swords rang out like an alarm bell and sent Rhun staggering back. Zilly followed up with a string of attacks that powered through his guard and eventually landed him with a thin cut on his shoulder. She [Dashed] back again, and lifted her sword in a cautious guard. Everyone froze. ¡°That¡¯s a touch!¡± called Myra. Rhun looked confused for a moment, then blinked and looked at his shoulder. He clenched his jaw, and then sighed, lowering his weapon. ¡°Well done. A good match.¡± There was a scattering of applause from people gathered around, and Brin took the time to notice his surroundings. Were they going to get in trouble for this? Hammon¡¯s Bog didn¡¯t mind if people dueled or trained in the town square, but every place had different rules. No one around looked particularly angry or worried, though he saw a few copper pennies trade hands as people made bets. Then he noticed for the first time that a big circle had been drawn on the ground in white, and there was a wooden sign. Designated training area Absolutely NO ranged weapons or Skills! All weapons MUST be sheathed or safetied before leaving the circle! The ban on ranged weapons was practical, but even so, it wasn¡¯t exactly safe. Did the businesses nearby not mind that this was here? Looking around, Brin saw two cafes with outdoor patios where people could watch the fights. Rhun crossed the distance and shook Zilly¡¯s hand. ¡°A good match,¡± he repeated. She brushed a hair out of her face with hands still shaking from adrenaline. ¡°Thanks! That was nice work on the [Charge]; I haven¡¯t met a [Warrior] who can pivot out of one of those that easily. Not even my town¡¯s Prefit. Oh, a Prefit is like a¡­¡± she trailed off, having trouble describing it. ¡°I know the word.¡± Rhun¡¯s accent was thick enough that Brin wondered if he was just saying that. ¡°But you must mean you have never met one other than yourself! You make [Charge] look as simple as stepping through a garden.¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± said Zilly, looking a bit flustered at the praise. ¡°And thanks for the match. I actually got a level off that! You know, I could go again if you want.¡± Rhun¡¯s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ¡°You would? Yes! I would like that very much.¡± Again, they moved to opposite ends of the circle. Myra stepped forward to call ¡°Begin!¡± then quickly skipped out of the circle again. This time, both Zilly and Rhun held still. They eyed each other warily. Now that they¡¯d taken each other¡¯s measure, they wouldn¡¯t charge in blind again. Brin bet that both of them had a plan and that this match would be decided in a matter of seconds. Zilly started to creep around to the side. Rhun matched her, keeping the maximum distance between them. Both of them were staring at the other¡¯s feet. Rhun [Charged]. It happened so fast that Brin half-thought that he¡¯d accidentally booted up a few threads, because time was moving faster than it should. Zilly waited in place. Rhun stabbed forward, unable to change his direction he could do nothing but commit. It felt like a mistake, and Zilly must¡¯ve thought so, too, because she did nothing but let him cross. At the last moment, she dodged to the side, and swung up at Rhun¡¯s stomach from the left. Because of the angle it wasn¡¯t the strongest blow, but it didn¡¯t need to be strong since Rhun was completely undefended on that side. Rhun reached over with his off hand and caught Zilly¡¯s sword. He had [Iron Body]. Now Zilly was undefended on the right side. She [Kicked], using her Skill that disrupted other Skills. She pulled her sword out of his grasp and used [Dash] to weave around him, avoiding his falling sword. ¡°Ow!¡± said Rhun, not needing Myra to call the fight, though she did anyway. ¡°That¡¯s blood!¡± Rhun opened and shut his hand, and there was a clear cut straight through the palm, though it wasn¡¯t bleeding much now that [Iron Body] was reactivated. ¡°Good match!¡± Zilly called out first. ¡°But isn¡¯t grabbing someone¡¯s sword a risky move?¡± She had her usual mocking smile, but Brin could see a hint of hesitation under it, probably wondering if he was going to be mad about losing twice in a row. Rhun showed no sign of that. Brin had to admit that his first impressions of Rhun might¡¯ve been a little wrong. No matter what else Rhun was, at least he wasn¡¯t a sore loser. He smiled and sheathed his sword so that he could shake Zilly¡¯s hand with the one that wasn¡¯t bleeding. ¡°It is risky! That¡¯s why it is supposed to take you by surprise.¡± He laughed. ¡°But you are too cunning for that!¡± Zilly smiled in relief, looking pleased at the praise. ¡°It did surprise me!¡± ¡°It looks like a good way to lose your thumb,¡± said Myra. ¡°It¡¯s not as risky as it looks. Most swords aren¡¯t razor sharp. They need a strong, thick edge rather than a thin sharp one, otherwise they¡¯d fall apart after the first hit like my glass spearheads,¡± said Brin. ¡°Actually, I saw a [Knight] training manual once and grabbing an opponent¡¯s sword was something they showed quite a lot.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Rhun shot Brin a piercing glare. Maybe not an angry glare so much as intense interest. ¡°Is this true?¡± ¡°It is,¡± said Brin, but he left off the fact that the manual had been for medieval European knights, not for people with magical Skills. ¡°Those guys wear full plate armor. It¡¯s pretty risky to do barehanded, even with [Iron Body],¡± said Davi. ¡°Exactly,¡± said Myra. ¡°Hm.¡± Rhun turned back to Zilly. ¡°Would you do me a favor and agree to a rematch? Not today!¡± he added quickly, as if fearing her answer would be no. ¡°In a week. I need time to train.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± said Zilly. Rhun nodded. ¡°Very good.¡± ¡°Did you want to start training now? I could give you the afternoon off,¡± said Sion. Rhun frowned, considering. ¡°I¡¯ll stay with him, if that helps,¡± said Zilly. ¡°Yes, I suppose I can know he is as safe with you as he would be with me,¡± said Rhun. ¡°Although why one such as you would choose to lower yourself to the level of these commoners, I couldn¡¯t say¡­¡± Sion rolled his eyes. ¡°And here we go again.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Zilly asked, her smile starting to falter. ¡°That¡¯s not how things work in Frenaria! You aren¡¯t suddenly royalty just because you took a Rare Class,¡± said Myra. ¡°Steel sharpens steel. You are weakening yourself if you measure yourself against commoners,¡± said Rhun. ¡°Look around! Who exactly is common here?¡± asked Myra. Rhun did peer around at the five of them, a little confused until he saw Davi. ¡°I will apologize to the [Bard]. But the rest of you are Commoners. It¡¯s a matter of quality.¡± Davi answered with a mock salute. ¡°I don¡¯t see how you can be on such a high horse just because you¡¯re a [Warrior]. Pretty much everyone here could whoop you. Zilly is honestly the person you have the best chance against.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s quite true,¡± said Zilly. ¡°Ridiculous!¡± Rhun snorted and turned to leave. Myra shouted at his back. ¡°Any of us! Sion, Brin, Davi¨C¡± ¡°Hold on, leave me out of this,¡± said Davi. Myra glared at him, so Davi continued. ¡°What I mean is, the last time Zilly and I sparred was something like twenty levels ago. She¡¯s improved a lot since then.¡± Davi¡¯s voice started to sound like Jeffrey¡¯s; he was imitating his mentor to try to play mediator. ¡°But Rhun, Myra¡¯s not wrong. No one here got all their levels from taking it easy; we¡¯ve all fought. Myra, for example, would tie you down with her magic. It would be a contest to see if you could cut your way out of your own clothes before she strangled you unconscious. I don¡¯t think anyone wants to see that.¡± Sion laughed, and Zilly smiled along, though Myra was still frowning. ¡°Cheap tricks!¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to use what I have to defend myself, even if you think it¡¯s cheap,¡± said Myra. ¡°In Prinnash, crafter women need not defend themselves. Any true man will fight for her honor or her safety,¡± said Rhun. ¡°How reassuring,¡± said Myra. ¡°Sion, on the other hand, would drink some expensive potion that would let him win. You know he¡¯s bound to have something, right?¡± asked Davi. ¡°But in any fair fight¨C¡± started Rhun. ¡°No such thing,¡± said Brin. ¡°¨Cand Brin would win because he doesn¡¯t think there¡¯s any such thing as a fair fight,¡± said Davi. ¡°I¡¯ve won against Brin plenty of times!¡± Zilly objected. Rhun stomped forward and poked Brin in the chest. ¡°You make glass.¡± ¡°I do,¡± Brin said, trying to look bored. ¡°You could beat me in a duel?¡± Rhun asked. Brin shrugged. ¡°Well, sure.¡± Honestly he didn¡¯t have a lot of reason to fight Rhun right now. If he lost after Zilly had won, he¡¯d look pretty stupid. But he¡¯d sort of wanted to punch Rhun ever since he¡¯d barged into his workshop yesterday. ¡°Show me,¡± said Rhun. He stomped towards the circle. Brin made a show of taking his time, and frantically started casting. First, a directed thread was assigned Self-Invisibility. He instructed it to coordinate with a conscious thread who¡¯d be casting Mirror Image. They needed to finish at exactly the same time. It had to be a conscious thread for Mirror Image, too, because while a directed thread could cast the spell, it would never be able to convincingly act like him. With his own regular magic, he started casting a Mirror Image, except this one would use glass instead of light. He¡¯d spent a few hours cutting the sound parts away as well as the parts that let him control its movement, and he¡¯d also figured out how to make it hollow. He called it Quick Glass Statue, for when he wanted to make his Mirror Images look like something a [Glasser] could plausibly do. ¡°Here, use my sword,¡± said Zilly. ¡°No need,¡± said Brin. The first few threads had their spells ready by the time he crossed the line to the circle. He started a few more, as he thought of things that would need to happen to pull this off. As he did, he walked one direction, while a Mirror Image of him, being directed by a conscious thread went the other. ¡°You need a sword. I¡¯m not fighting an unarmed man,¡± said Rhun. Zilly huffed in irritation. ¡°Just take mine! What are you doing?¡± asked Zilly. Stalling for time is what he was doing. He still had more spells to finish casting if he was going to pull this off. ¡°You¡¯re going to give me time to summon glass? Generous,¡± he heard his Mirror Image say. It was a little weird to see a copy of himself walking around. His voice sounded different than it did in his head. Younger. And he wasn¡¯t as¡­ cool as he hoped he was. He was shorter than both Davi and Rhun, barely Zilly¡¯s height. His scars were pretty cool, but he had bags under his eyes from the late night last night, giving him a sunken appearance. His muscles weren¡¯t bad, but he had a lean strength, nothing like the heroic musculature of Davi. Main: Can you summon a spear for yourself? CT1: No problem The copy held out a hand dramatically, summoning a glass spear that rose up from the ground to reach his hand. He twirled it, then pointed it at Rhun. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡± He was not ready. He pushed himself through the spell, but he was still a half minute away. Main: Need 30 seconds CT1: Got it ¡°Did we decide what the rules are going to be? I think we should keep going until you give up,¡± said the Copy. ¡°First blood,¡± said Rhun. ¡°Well, don¡¯t be so hasty now. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll properly feel the distance between the two of us with just one scratch.¡± ¡°Enough. Will you call the fight?¡± Rhun asked Myra. ¡°Oh. Right!¡± Myra scurried over to take her place as referee. Walk slower, will you? But his spell was done. He let a directed thread cast Invisibility on an area behind the Mirror Image, and placed his Quick Glass Statue inside it. ¡°Begin!¡± shouted Myra. Rhun didn¡¯t charge right away, thank goodness. Brin¡¯s copy lifted his hand, and another Mirror Image lifted up from the ground beside him. This one had already been finished and cast beneath the earth so that when it drifted up it would look like Brin was creating a statue of glass on the fly. It was grayer and shinier than his real body; hopefully it looked like it was made of glass. It was the best he could do in the few seconds he had to prepare. He stepped into it with his real body, letting Self-Invisibility fall away. ¡°No way! Did you just summon a glass copy? Is that your 35 Skill? What can it do?¡± asked Zilly. Brin did an impression of something halfway between a zombie and a robot, taking one jerking step forward. ¡°Cool!¡± she cheered. Rhun scoffed. ¡°Perhaps if you had ten more it might serve as a distraction. Now are we to duel or create sculptures?¡± ¡°I already said begin. Go whenever,¡± said Myra, waving between the two of them. Rhun [Charged]. In Brin¡¯s sped-up time perception, it looked like he moved faster than the speed of sound, and he crashed straight through Brin¡¯s Mirror Image and the glass sculpture. He was glad he¡¯d chosen to ignore the ¡°fake¡± and charge what he thought was the real person; Brin didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d have been able to dodge in time if it had been the other way. The Mirror Image and Quick Glass Sculpture worked perfectly, looking for all the world like Brin had pulled a shinobi switch and replaced himself with glass. He pushed some glass magic into it to make it explode with a loud crack. The conscious thread returned the instant it happened, and with time back to normal Brin dashed in from the side. Rhun had probably been expecting the copy to do something, but he clearly hadn¡¯t expected what he thought was the real Brin to go down so easily. His momentum carried him too far, and he was a bit too slow to turn. Brin kicked him in the back, pushing him out of the circle. Rhun took a few stumbling steps, trying to regain his balance, before landing on his face. He rolled to the side and jumped up, but then when he noticed he was out of the circle he shouted in frustration. You have defeated: Rhun Charlik [23] Experience reduced for non-lethal duel. There were a few gasps, and a small splattering of applause from the small crowd that had circled around to watch the fight, but most of them were simply surprised; it had ended too quickly to really react much. ¡°Ah, I see how it is,¡± said Rhun. ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± said Brin. ¡°Are you giving up?¡± ¡°The match is over. You put all your power into one big trick; this is the way of fighting for Common Classes. But tell me true: Could you do that again?¡± If he delayed, maybe, but he wasn¡¯t sure if it would work a second time. ¡°Of course. Though it doesn¡¯t matter, Rhun. Step back in the circle.¡± Brin pushed his magic into the glass on the ground, pulling it back together and forming it into a spear. ¡°One more. Humor me.¡± Rhun grit his teeth, but did as Brin said and re-entered the ring, moving to his place. Neither of them spoke, so there was nothing to delay the match. Brin didn¡¯t need it. His plan last time had been complicated and creative, and it had been an interesting experiment, but now he was starting to think it had been a mistake. He didn¡¯t need tricks to beat Rhun. He had fifteen levels on him. He was a lot stronger than the [Warrior]. One last time, Myra hesitantly took her place as the referee. ¡°Begin.¡± Rhun [Charged]. Brin dropped the spear. He saw a flicker of hesitation in Rhun¡¯s eyes, but he couldn¡¯t stop; [Charge] was a Skill you couldn¡¯t use unless you were committed. At the last second, Brin stepped out of the way of the [Charge]. Rhun pivoted quickly, just as before, but Brin knew where he would be. He caught Rhun¡¯s sword arm by the wrist with one hand. With the other, he cocked back and swung, decking Rhun in the jaw. Before Rhun could recover, he grabbed the sword out of his hand and pushed him back with his shoulder. Brin didn¡¯t know if that was one of those life-changing punches that everyone should experience at least once. Rhun didn¡¯t fall to the ground this time, but it did seem to readjust his thinking somewhat. He stood, blinking and dazed, and his eyes seemed to grow redder. Then, to Brin¡¯s surprise, Rhun shook it off. He laughed. ¡°Good. Good! Nice fight!¡± Still in a good mood, he shook Brin¡¯s hand, leaving him a bit speechless. Brin sighed. ¡°Here, let me get that glass out of your eyes.¡± He could sense glass well enough to pull even the dust from an explosion away from Rhun¡¯s face, moving it from his eyes and even some from his lungs. A fight was one thing, but he didn¡¯t want to blind Rhun or give him lung cancer. ¡°I thank you. Zilly, are we to duel again in a week?¡± Rhun asked. ¡°I¡¯m still on if you are,¡± she said. ¡°Good. Then after I beat you, I shall show you how to defeat your [Glasser] friend as well.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 9 "Ugh, what is with that guy? He thinks he''s so high and mighty just because he earned a Rare Class?" Myra picked at the sleeve of her dress in irritation, unwinding and fixing the hem. "I don''t know, I think he''s neat," said Zilly. "Of course you do," said Myra. Sion looked pained. ¡°He is useful. The same dedication with which he approaches¡­ certain topics he also applies to his role in employment.¡± Brin didn¡¯t think Sion talked bad about people behind their backs as a rule, so this faint praise was especially damning. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I mean. He¡¯s dedicated. You have to respect that.¡± Zilly looked around at everyone nervously, and seeing that no one else was going to take Rhun''s side, she added, "It is a little agitating, though. I already beat him, so why do I have to fight him again?" "I wonder how that feels," Brin said dryly. "Oh shoot! I think my [Dragon Sense] just went off." "What is this? What is [Dragon Sense]?" asked Sion, looking excited. "Look alive, everyone. A mighty and dangerous creature is approaching!" said Brin. "[Dragon Sense] never lies!" "Stop it, that''s not a real Skill," said Davi. "It''s true, though. Marksi is two blocks that direction." Zilly pointed in the direction that Brin''s Invisible Eye told him Marksi was. He wondered which of her [Rogue] Skills helped her tell that; her sense of hearing was good enough for that, but in a crowded city it shouldn''t be possible. Marksi somehow also sensed that Brin was near. He jumped down off of Lurilan''s shoulders and zipped towards them. He careened through the people on the street, closing the distance in seconds. Brin dismissed the directed thread right as Marksi hit him. The little dragon climbed up and all around him, excited to see him after a day apart. Brin laughed and delivered what pats and scritches he could to the excited animal, but Marksi only stayed with him a few seconds before jumping down and collecting his due from Brin''s friends. When he''d finally calmed down enough to talk, Brin asked, "So what did you and Lurilan get up to?" Marksi mimed out his adventures, stomping back and forth, pouncing, and growling. The funny thing was that since he knew what Marksi had actually been up to, he kind of understood what he was trying to say. "What''s that? A snake? No way, it couldn''t have been eight feet long. Five feet? That''s more like it. Ooh, those squirrels sound nasty. I hope you killed them all! Lurilan didn''t let you? Oh, bad move, Lurilan." Lurilan, who was just now arriving and who looked uncharacteristically irritated after a passing [Fishmonger] scuffed his sleeve, said, "I hope you learned a valuable lesson about indiscriminate slaughter. A true [Hunter] never kills without cause." "Indiscriminate slaughter, Marksi? Well, that does sound like you." Marksi marched in place with his head held high, completely unapologetic. "Then what happened next. No way! A deer?" "How is he doing that?" asked Myra. "I don''t know," said Zilly. "Perhaps [Dragon Sense] is real?" asked Sion. "It''s not!" whined Davi. "Lurilan, what really happened?" asked Myra. Lurilan stood in the square with his shoulders crossed, and briefly gave a description of his and Marksi''s outing. To everyone''s annoyance, it was exactly what Brin had just said. Suddenly, the conversation filled Brin with anxiety. What had he been thinking just now? He''d revealed that he had an ability to know things that he really shouldn''t. How much further of a leap was it to guess that he was an [Illusionist]? Why had he even done that? Just because he thought it was funny? Maybe it wasn¡¯t so bad. Davi already knew, of course, and he''d already told himself he was going to tell the rest of his friends. Hadn''t he? The idea of doing it now was about as attractive as stripping naked and singing the Kukubaru song. If he told them, how could he guarantee they''d keep it secret? They deserved to know, and they''d probably find out eventually so it was better to hear it from him, but he really didn''t want to. His gut-level abhorrence to the idea was probably coming from the [Illusionist] Class. Aberfa had warned him that he''d start keeping secrets for no reason. But didn''t he have a very good reason to keep this one? "So what are we up to next? Lunch?" asked Davi. "I kind of want to do some shopping. Now that I have some money I want to look at expendables," Brin said, in an attempt to look like he''d been paying attention to the conversation. "I had in mind to visit the Hunter''s Lodge with Marksi," said Lurilan. "We would peruse the monster archives in an attempt to find a monster to hunt in order to find a killing method worth emulating. A big cat, maybe? Lions and cougars are well-known for hunting beasts larger than themselves. You could all join me, if you wish." "Yes! Yes, please!" said Zilly. "You can really bring us in?" "I don''t think [Hunter] Caio would object," said Lurilan. "I''m down," Brin said, and the rest agreed. The walk over to the Hunter''s Lodge was pleasant and short. Zilly spent the entire time pelting Lurilan with questions about the [Hunter] life, which he answered while casting frowns at all the people they passed along the way. Davi shuffled over to walk next to Myra, and tried and failed to make conversation a couple times. Marksi kept climbing up on Brin''s shoulders, but then Lurilan would call "Remember what we talked about! You need to work on your stamina," and Marksi would jump back down. Brin was glad to have his little friend back, but he was getting sick of him tracking dust from the road up and down his clothes. Despite being inside the city walls, the Hunter''s Lodge had extensive grounds so that when they approached it almost felt like they were leaving the city. A plain of wild grass ended in a copse of trees that mostly concealed a large structure made of logs. There was a fenced area with weapons stands nearby, probably a sparring ring, and a huge field for practicing bows. From what he could see, targets were set up at 50, 100, 1000, and 2000 yard intervals. "I''m a little surprised this is here. Don''t you have people camping out here all the time?" asked Brin. "Not as much as you might think. [Hunters] have a habit of tracking you down and complaining if you wander into our space too often." Lurilan winced. "There are [Beggars], though. They have Skills that make them undetectable while they sleep. It''s quite aggravating." "It''s a weird Class," said Myra. "Why take a Class that helps you sleep on the street, when basically any other Common Class will give you enough money to live comfortably?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Some people like the lifestyle," said Zilly. Sion shook his head. "You''re underestimating how valuable it was to have a family to support you and a town that''s invested in your future. Most Classes don''t become truly profitable until level twenty, and for most people that means working in them for months or even years. If you grew up on the street, the set of Skills offered by the [Beggar] Class would seem quite fortuitous." ¡°You know what¡¯s weird? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen one,¡± said Myra. ¡°You certainly have. They have Skills for making themselves forgotten after you¡¯ve paid them,¡± said Lurilan, the disapproval evident in his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I ever remember seeing one either,¡± said Brin. ¡°Apologies, my friend, but you have ¡®High Mental Resistance and Impatient To Interruptions¡¯ written all over your face,¡± said Sion. Davi laughed and clapped Sion on the shoulder. ¡°Nice one! I think that¡¯s the best burn I¡¯ve ever heard you deliver.¡± Sion paled, ¡°I must apologize¨C!¡± ¡°No offense taken,¡± Brin said quickly. He stroked his chin. ¡°I should put that on my status. High mental resistance and impatient to interruptions. That describes me pretty well.¡± When they reached the Hunter¡¯s Hall, Lurilan scratched his already pristine boots on the mat, and then lifted each of them to check that there wasn¡¯t a speck of dirt that he had missed, although of course there wasn¡¯t. Everyone else followed suit and did the same. Lurilan opened the door and let them in. The inside of the Hunter¡¯s Lodge wasn¡¯t exactly what Brin had expected, but it was what he should¡¯ve expected. The floors and walls were polished wood, and there were antlers, furs, and horns in much of the decorating. A chandelier was made all of horns, and lit by some fairly pricey enchanted stones. Horns lined the picture frames on the walls, all portraits of [Hunters], and long flat furs took the place of rugs and carpets. What surprised him most was how pristine everything was. He didn¡¯t see a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. The paper-white fur on the ground looked like it had never been touched, though Lurilan strode straight across it as he led them across the entrance hall. A few couches and reading chairs were tucked in a corner, and there were newspapers stacked on an end table and a small bookshelf, but everything was squarely in its place and he didn¡¯t see anything that could be described as clutter. It made sense in a weird way. [Hunters] spent most of their lives out in the wild. When they were in civilization, they probably wanted to be civilized. ¡°Huh. I figured there would be someone watching the door,¡± said Davi. ¡°This is a lodge for [Hunters]. Everyone in the building already knows we¡¯re here,¡± said Zilly. ¡°I expect some of the cooking or cleaning staff may not. No need to be especially quiet; no one likes to be snuck up on,¡± Lurilan said. Brin noticed that his footsteps were making regular footstep-sounds. Coming from a high-level [Hunter] whose footsteps were normally quieter than a feather landing on a pillow, that could be nothing but intentional. He led them through a hallway, and Brin got a glimpse of a reading room with another [Hunter] tucked away, and a large formal dining room that could¡¯ve sat thirty. The room Lurilan brought them to actually had a lock on the door, to which he had the key, and inside was the first untidy thing Brin had seen in this building. Bookshelves lined all the walls, stacked horizontally and then vertically to fill up every inch of space. The books that didn¡¯t fit on the shelves were also stacked in columns on the floor, and writing tables were piled high with loose papers, pictures and charts. Maps and diagrams were pinned to every visible part of the walls, and there were maps where you¡¯d have to move a bookshelf to see the whole thing. ¡°May we¡­?¡± Sion began, taking it all in. People guarded knowledge carefully in this world, and this was a treasure trove. ¡°Be my guest,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°But remember we¡¯re here for Marksi. Look for interesting monsters or animals near Blackcliff or the Boglands.¡± They all got to work, spreading out through the room. With all the wealth of knowledge on display, Brin decided that the best way to help his little friend would be to combine [Multithreading] and [Memories In Glass] to go through as much information as possible. It definitely wasn¡¯t because doing this would also be the best way to copy down as much of this library as possible and store it for later. He started on the first monster encyclopedia he could find and quickly turned the pages, flipping through as quickly as possible while also getting a good look at each page. Could he set this on the floor and flip through two books at once? He didn¡¯t see why not. He also made a few directed threads to make Invisible Eyes to peer over his friend¡¯s shoulders. Zilly, Myra, and Sion dutifully also started leafing through books on monsters, and Marksi leapt onto Lurilan¡¯s shoulders while he went straight for a book on large cats. Davi, however, hung back in the corner and tried to hide the fact that he was much more interested in a book on the different varieties of undead. Not exactly helpful for Marksi, but Brin wasn¡¯t in a position to point fingers. He hadn¡¯t used that much mental space yet, so he made another directed thread and gave it that task to start transcribing everything he was seeing and putting it in a log. He could skim that while his hands kept turning pages. He could always make another conscious thread, but he found he didn¡¯t really need to. Even without [Multithreading], his Mental Control was high enough that he could skim through a log while also moving both hands to turn pages. He spotted a few promising suspects. Many venomous creatures; those he noted down in a separate log. One spiky lizard that spat its own blood¡­ ooh! And there were variants. There was one whose blood burned like pepper spray. He noted that one down especially. Meanwhile, Lurilan was talking to Marksi about big cats. ¡°...they ambush their prey and kill quickly. See the size of these jaws? The shape of the teeth? This fellow can pierce the skull of his prey. Well, no, if he needs to hunt something much larger than him, he¡¯ll need to do what most cats do. Go for the throat, and suffocate the animal to death.¡± Marksi tapped the page. ¡°The claws? Well, yes I suppose they help.¡± Marksi swiped with his claws, then he mimed recoiling in pain and falling over dead, with his tongue hanging out. ¡°No, they don¡¯t often kill with their claws. Those mostly help for climbing and for holding onto the prey so it won¡¯t get away before it¡¯s dead. Though, I¡¯ve seen a cougar latch onto a bison while it ran and then disembowel it with those powerful back leg claws.¡± Marksi tapped the picture again, more insistently. ¡°No, I can¡¯t think of any animals that can primarily hunt with their foreclaws. Bears, maybe?¡± Marksi huffed and turned his back. In Brin¡¯s own investigation, he created a directed thread to list out all the venomous creatures, and then read through them to try to pick a favorite. The winner was something called the Ruby Crested Mud Slider, which was a snake only a bit larger than Marksi with red fronds on its head. It was extremely venomous, and was known to kill monsters the size of elephants with its bite. That sounded like just the thing. But was venom the way to go? It felt too ordinary, and too cheap for someone like Marksi. What he really wanted was some kind of magical weapon. Maybe something like that basilisk they¡¯d fought on the trip over here? ¡°Hey, did anyone find something about basilisks?¡± Brin asked. ¡°They don¡¯t grow beast cores, unfortunately, so I fear they won¡¯t be sufficient for Marksi¡¯s needs,¡± said Lurilan. Well, that was too bad. Now that he¡¯d gotten the idea of Marksi with a paralyzing magic attack, it was all he could think about. Marksi was a magical rainbow lizard. If he needed a takedown move, it should be magical, too. Nothing else would feel right. He moved his search to focus more on the strange and exotic beasts of the world, but nothing felt quite right. The closest was a type of goblin that developed a fire-breathing attack at high levels, but goblins also didn¡¯t have beast cores. Except some might? From there, he¡¯d been thoroughly distracted by the tangent of trying to figure out exactly what goblins even were. Some were covered in fur, others were completely hairless. Some seemed to be actual gorillas that walked on their hands, and others were tribal and had primitive languages with as many as fifty words. They seemed so different in species and variety that Brin finally decided there was no connection at all. People in this world just took anything vaguely human like that they didn¡¯t want to give ¡°person¡± status to and called it a goblin. ¡°Does anyone have any good ideas on venomous creatures?¡± Lurilan asked. Most of them did, and after a brief discussion, they decided that Brin¡¯s Ruby Crested Mud Slider was the best choice. Some were too small, others were too big for Marksi to be able to meaningfully participate in killing it, some were too far away. Marksi was the last out of all of them to agree. He stared at the picture of the Mud Slider for a long time before finally nodding his head. ¡°Give me a couple days. I¡¯ll prepare the antidote, just in case, and then see if I can find one of these things. If there¡¯s one in the area that¡¯s close enough for him to get to without a week of travel, we can set out for it. Once it¡¯s slain, Marksi can finally get started on creating his killing move.¡± As they started packing up, another [Hunter] appeared in the doorway. This one [Inspected] as [Hunter] Caio and openly showed his level at 56. A powerhouse, and probably the leader of this lodge. ¡°It sounds like you¡¯re about wrapping up in here?¡± he asked. He stood with his shoulders hunched forwards, and looked to the side as he spoke. At first glance Brin would say that this man was afraid or intimidated by Lurilan, but in his experience people above level 50 didn¡¯t get intimidated by hardly anything. More likely he was just naturally shy around people. ¡°We can be out immediately,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s not that. You¡¯re welcome to bring your kids to work. It¡¯s something else,¡± said Caio. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Is something wrong?¡± asked Lurilan. ¡°Wrong? Maybe. Strange, more like it. There¡¯s some strange new folk in town.¡± Not a chapter -Bog is on sale! Hi, just like the title says, figured I''d give a quick little update. Bog is on sale today only for 99 cents! Edit: to clarify, this is US/CAN only. Find it here https://geni.us/BogStandard1 And to pad the word count, I figured I could do a FAQ Q: Do you even know what a bog is? A: Shut up! Leave me alone! Q: Because I don''t think you do....This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. A: Next question please! Q: Why doesn''t Brin cut himself up a bunch of times as soon as combat starts to spam Battle Fury? A: Pass Q: How much of the Frenarian language did you invent before starting the story? A: I think people give me more credit here than I deserve. I made a few structure and grammar rules, a few dozen vocabulary terms, and then hardly ended up using any of it. Translator Note: He''s lying! He found Mark''s journal, bribed me to translate it for him, and then passed it off as his own original story! A: You again? How did you get in here? Don''t listen to him, guys. Q: Who is your favorite character? A: Obviously Perris! How is this even a question? Q: Do you read your comments? A: Yes. All of them. I try to stay out of replying in the comments because I think it''s valuable for fans to have a space to discuss among themselves, but I do appreciate all the kind words and encouragement! Alright. New chapter tomorrow. See you then. Book 4 - Chapter 10 ¡°Strange folk?¡± asked Lurilan. ¡°In what way?¡± [Hunter] Caio had a high-pitched squeaky type voice. He hunched forward and turned his face to the side, looking another direction as he talked, and despite all of this Brin¡¯s gut feeling matched what his [Inspect] told him, that this was an incredibly powerful and dangerous person. ¡°You know that feeling you get when you see someone hiding when they don¡¯t need to? It¡¯s like that. [Warriors] from the Defense Force. Officers from the army and the navy. Second sons of nobles, most of them sneaky types that look around but don¡¯t do anything or talk to anyone. And all of them are hiding their status and staying in the worst hotels. Now, if there was a war going on, then the meaning would be obvious, but last I heard, Arcaena was in the middle of surrendering¡­¡± Caio glanced at Brin, then quickly looked away. ¡°There is a war going on. Lumina told me the peace talks were a farce, in place while everyone prepares for total war,¡± said Brin. Caio nodded. ¡°In that case¡­¡± ¡°Impressment, you think?¡± asked Lurilan. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been known to be wrong before,¡± Caio said. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± asked Zilly. ¡°It means they¡¯re going to start drafting people for the war. And the five of us are right at the perfect age,¡± said Brin, worry starting to build as it dawned on him what they were saying. Lurilan looked at him, confused. ¡°What does age have to do with it? The major point here is Class Rarity. Common Classers can be drafted from cities and towns near the border if necessary, but those with Rare Classes will be plucked from the population throughout the kingdom. The pain point for the kingdom here is that the most useful Rare Classes often have ways of staying hidden when they know they are in danger. They¡¯ll try to take everyone by surprise and recruit them all at the same time, before anyone knows what¡¯s happening.¡± ¡°When? How long do we have?¡± asked Davi. ¡°No way to know. Once they feel like they have a good bead on as many Rare Classers as possible, they¡¯ll set a time and make the snatch. Well, that¡¯s all I wanted to say. You kids have fun, now,¡± said Caio. Then without another word, he turned and walked down the hall, his footsteps clomping on the wooden floor until he was out of sight. Davi stood and started pacing. ¡°Well, all of you are fine, but I¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯m not fine!¡± said Zilly. Myra¡¯s face looked like she was sneering, but then Brin realized that was the face of someone trying to hold back sudden tears. ¡°The caravan won¡¯t want to risk losing their guards. They¡¯ll want to leave immediately. Tonight, if not earlier.¡± Sion turned to Brin. ¡°You must stay with my family. We don¡¯t have the pull here in Frenaria as we do in our home country, but an impressment gang would never dare storm the halls of the Wogan Mercantile Group. In fact, all of you must come!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that!¡± Zilly said quickly. Davi shook his head slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t think Jeffrey would go for it.¡± ¡°No, he won¡¯t.¡± Myra shook her head, and rubbed a tear away from her cheek. ¡°Jeffrey isn¡¯t the guy who can keep his head down and follow orders, and he¡¯s also not the guy who can stay cooped up in one house all day. He¡¯s going to insist on running all the way back to Hammon¡¯s Bog where you can lay low until it¡¯s over. Don¡¯t you guys get it? This is it! This is where we split ways.¡± ¡°What if you didn¡¯t tell your caravan about the impressment?¡± Brin suggested. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯re actually certain¨C¡± ¡°I have to tell them,¡± said Myra. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do anything!¡± ¡°They can¡¯t lose their Rare Classers, not after the trouble we ran into on the way here. I won¡¯t do that to them.¡± Brin¡¯s stomach sank, his instincts understanding before his head did that he wasn¡¯t going to talk his way out of this. ¡°Ok, tell them, but don¡¯t go! You don¡¯t need a caravan, Myra. Hogg and I can get you anywhere you want. And Davi! You don¡¯t need to run! I can literally¡­¡± Even now, he was struggling to reveal his secrets. Instead of saying that he could literally turn people invisible he finished with, ¡°pull rank. I¡¯ve got Lumina¡¯s ring.¡± ¡°I have to go with this caravan. I have a reason. I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Myra. Davi hesitated, but then shook his head. ¡°Sorry Brin. We all knew this is where it was going to end. We knew when we got to Blackcliff that we were going to split up.¡± Brin sighed. ¡°I thought we¡¯d have more time. We were supposed to have a party! Not scurry away in the middle of the night.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not even noon,¡± said Davi. ¡°You know what I meant.¡± They all stood there, staring at each other in half part sorrow and half part awkwardness, none of them really knowing how to start their goodbyes. Brin shook his head. ¡°I always thought we were going to be adventurers together. I honestly expected it to take longer for us to get out of town, but when we did I figured we¡¯d go off and have adventures that would shake the world.¡± Myra sniffed, and Davi shook his head, and even Zilly couldn¡¯t summon a sardonic smile or inappropriate comment. Brin said, ¡°Let¡¯s still do it. We¡¯ll meet again. Someday, we¡¯re all going to meet again, and when we do, we¡¯ll be a team again. We¡¯ll all be high level and important by then, but we¡¯ll put it all aside and go on amazing adventures.¡± ¡°This occasion calls for something. Allow me,¡± Lurilan said, and scooted out of the door. He returned a moment later with a wine bottle and glasses. He poured and handed them to each of them, though Marksi hissed in displeasure when he didn¡¯t get one. ¡°You can share mine,¡± said Brin.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Without hesitation, Marksi plunged his scaly face straight into the glass and started lapping. Zilly raised her glass first. ¡°Next time you guys see me I¡¯ll be the most badass warrior anyone¡¯s ever heard of!¡± Myra went next. ¡°You better watch out. Next time we meet, I¡¯ll be a hundred times scarier than my mother.¡± Interesting that she would bring up Tawna. They still didn¡¯t know if she was alive. Of course, if Myra had been contacted by Tawna, she would never have told Brin about it. ¡°I¡¯ll be the type of [Bard] that can tell your stories, and the kind of [Skald] that can make my stories end the way I want them to,¡± said Davi. ¡°[Mage],¡± said Brin after a moment of deliberation. ¡°One way or another, I¡¯m going to master the magic of the world. And for Marksi, he¡¯s going to be what he¡¯s always been. The coolest dragon ever!¡± The others gave a faint cheer. Marksi lifted his head long enough to chirp in agreement, but then he went back to loudly slurping and gulping the wine, sloshing it in the cup. Then they looked at Sion. At first, he seemed surprised, then he grinned when he realized they meant to include him. ¡°All I can offer is money! But when we¡¯re together again, I expect to finance voyages to the furthest islands or expeditions into the deepest of dungeons.¡± With that, there was nothing to do but make a toast. ¡°Until next time!¡± Davi said, and the rest echoed it and drank. Brin only took a tiny sip, because it was kind of gross to drink out of the same glass that Marksi was making out with. Then it was over. Myra turned away and left first. Her threads rose up to grow a bonnet over her head to hide her face, and she walked quickly enough that she must¡¯ve been using thread magic to pull herself forward. Davi went next, and the others had no reason to stay. ¡°What will you do?¡± Brin asked Lurilan as he was walking out the door. ¡°Not much has changed for me. I¡¯ll keep to the forest for a time, and see if I can find that Mud Slider for Marksi. Perhaps in town they might have had a chance, but I¡¯ll be safe in the forest.¡± ¡°If they wanted to catch [Hunters] the only people they could have asked would be you,¡± said Brin. ¡°Life has a way of providing such funny little paradoxes,¡± Lurilan agreed. Out of the Hunter¡¯s Lodge, it seemed that Lurilan was going to walk Brin to the edge of the grounds, but he walked quickly so Brin had to strain to keep up, putting them ahead of the others. ¡°It¡¯s too bad about this. I was hoping your little love triangle would collapse before circumstances drove you apart. It¡¯s quite agitating! Don¡¯t partings like this usually elicit a big confession of some kind?¡± ¡°I have no idea what you mean,¡± said Brin. ¡°See you later, Lurilan.¡± Brin hung back until he was even with Zilly and Sion, who were talking about their living situation. Hogg had paid for Zilly to live in a hospice while she recovered from her injuries after the monster swarm on the beach. Not everyone had Brin¡¯s [Scarred, but Healing] Title, but it had taken him by surprise when Zilly recovered slowly over the course of weeks. He¡¯d slept it off in two nights. After the hospice, she¡¯d had some trouble finding enough money to live in a rented room, but pride still made her pretend to be hesitant to take up Sion¡¯s generosity. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s ok? I¡¯d be imposing,¡± said Zilly. ¡°Can¡¯t you see? You would truly be doing me a favor. Another [Warrior] in the house would make us all feel much more secure!¡± ¡°Sion, you¡­ you know I¡¯m not a real [Warrior],¡± Zilly admitted. ¡°Even better! We have no real need for physical protection. But your special senses would be invaluable, trust me. We¡¯d all sleep better knowing that you could sniff out any spies or infiltrators.¡± Brin found that he couldn¡¯t pay attention to the conversation, though he was a little surprised to hear Zilly confess her secret Class like that. Were [Rogues] not as paranoid as [Illusionists]? Damnit! Lurilan was right. Brin made a conscious thread to take care of it and¡­ found he was the thread. That¡¯s how it felt. He knew he was both the thread and the main body, but it never felt like that. It felt like The Prestige, where he never knew if he¡¯d wake up as the real person or the copy. Before he could settle in with the realization that he couldn¡¯t control his own body any more, he got to work. He created a directed thread, ordering it to find Myra. It quickly fell into place, and he watched through [Memories In Glass] as it zoomed forward to find her. She¡¯d made it pretty far, but his illusory eye was quicker and he found her just as she hit the edge of the [Hunters¡¯] grounds. He went around a corner and created a Mirror Image, and ordered the Invisible Eye to stay attached to it so that he could see and hear. Then, piloting the Mirror Image like it was his own body, he turned the corner to walk along beside her. She jumped. ¡°Oh! Brin! You scared me. What are you doing? I¡¯m not changing my mind.¡± ¡°I know. I just didn¡¯t want you to leave before I told you,¡± said Brin. He felt a wild, powerful instinct to follow that up with ¡°I love you,¡± as a distraction from what he came here for, but no. He was not going to let this Class screw with him like this. He was going to say what he came here to say, and nothing else. He called a sphere of silence around him and Myra. Despite Hogg giving him the spell for it, his silence bubbles weren¡¯t as perfect as the ones Hogg could make, and it muted all the outside sounds of the city. Myra¡¯s cheeks were wet and her eyes were red, but she¡¯d calmed her face. She noticed the dampening of sound around them and looked at him with mild interest. ¡°What did you just do?¡± ¡°I¡¯m an [Illusionist],¡± said Brin. Her eyes went wide. ¡°Oh! Yeah, I knew about that.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I guessed. Then I asked Davi and he told me.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°Lumina spent a nonsensical amount of time teaching us words in the Language for light. I thought maybe it would help your glass somehow, but then you never seemed to use it,¡± said Myra. ¡°Does everyone know?¡± Myra smiled in delight. ¡°No. Zilly doesn¡¯t. And let me tell you, that has been a delight to watch. You keep beating her in your spars and she has no idea how you¡¯re doing it! It¡¯s driving her crazy!¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not cheating to beat Zilly. I really am that good!¡± Myra covered her smile with her hand. ¡°Ok.¡± ¡°Why are you laughing? It¡¯s true!¡± ¡°I believe you,¡± she said, though Brin honestly didn¡¯t know if she did or not. ¡°Look, can you keep this a secret? You guys deserve to know, but even telling my closest friends is giving me a heart attack.¡± ¡°I promise,¡± she said with an amused smile. Then she sighed, ¡°Is that what you came to tell me? That you¡¯re an [Illusionist]?¡± What a loaded question. Of course he knew what she¡¯d meant, he wasn¡¯t oblivious even if he pretended to be sometimes. He thought about telling her that when they were older things might be different, but that would sound too much like a promise. Besides, Tawna had read his resolve not to date until twenty in his fate, and he would bet she¡¯d told Myra already. He thought about apologizing, explaining that Hammon¡¯s Bog had been a dark place for him, but anything he could think of saying would just give her false hope. In the end, he played the fool. ¡°Yeah. Like I said, I thought you deserved to know.¡± ¡°I see. Goodbye, Brin.¡± She leaned in and reached up to lay a hand on his cheek, but of course it was an illusion so the tips of her fingers passed straight through. He jolted in alarm and took a quick step back. Random objects passing through his illusions tended to dispel them; he was only able to keep the Mirror Image intact through extreme focus of concentration. What was she thinking? If the sleeve of her dress had brushed against his illusion, it would¡¯ve dispelled for her and his secret would¡¯ve been exposed right there in the middle of town. In a panic, he dashed away towards an alleyway that looked empty. He took a look both directions, and as soon as he saw there was no one around, he dispelled the mirror image. The panic faded with the illusion. It¡¯d been a close call, but his secret was safe. It had been a good idea to tell Myra. She¡¯d already known, and he¡¯d been able to extract a promise to keep his secret. His directed thread with the Invisible Eye was still in place, and without the Mirror Image it reverted to its previous order. It turned around and moved to follow Myra. Her head was held high, her back straight as she took confident steps down the street towards her future. Should he make another Mirror Image, and give her a better good-bye? He honestly didn¡¯t know if it would help, and even if it did help, he didn¡¯t think it would be for the best. The best thing for her now would be to meet some nice, normal teenager and forget all about the weird, cursed, scarred freak with a child¡¯s body and an adult¡¯s memories. When they met again, and he truly hoped they would, she¡¯d remember him as an ill-advised crush and only the first of many. He watched her for only a moment longer. Book 4 - Chapter 11 Like she¡¯d predicted, Myra¡¯s caravan left the same day. Brin kept an Invisible Eye on it, but from a far distance so that he wouldn¡¯t feel like a voyeur. The caravan didn¡¯t run into any trouble leaving the city, and he didn¡¯t think they¡¯d run into much trouble out in the wild. Without a dream monster mommy sending waves of monsters at her son, the caravan would probably travel safely. The rest of them split up as well; Zilly went with Sion towards his family''s mansion, Davi went to find Jeffrey, and Brin went back to find Hogg. He kept an Invisible Eye with Davi though, just so that he''d know what they decided on. He rushed through the streets of the city, and now every stranger or blind alley seemed dangerous and nefarious. It probably wouldn''t be today; he''d just learned of it. But it could be. It could happen any time, day or night. He sent out another flurry of Invisible Eyes, each guided by a directed thread, telling them to scan the city and seek out the impressment gangs. Even before he got home, he started to find them. In warehouses near the docks, ranks of soldiers were crowded inside. They only left one or two at a time to conceal their numbers, and slept on rows and rows of cots and hastily-made bunks. [Hunter] Caio had known what he was talking about. When he got to the house, he dashed inside and was relieved to find that Hogg was home, though he was asleep on his reclining chair. Brin closed the door extra loud to wake him up, and then threw a spell for blocking sound around the room. "Impressment," Brin announced. Hogg woke and sat up with a surprising amount of clarity. "Now?" "No. The boss of Lurilan''s lodge told us they''re in the city, but we don''t know when it''s going to happen." "Then we have some time," said Hogg, leaning back down in his chair. "Let me get some eyes out there." "Already on it," said Brin. He threw a spell against the wall, making a screen that would show Hogg what his Invisible Eye was seeing. "And this is just the first one I found." Hogg eyed the image of soldiers crowded in a warehouse with a tired frown. "Yeah, that definitely looks like impressment. Put an Invisible Eye on a spiral search pattern, see if you can find the ones that are aiming for us." Brin created a directed thread with the instructions to do just that. "Myra''s already left, Davi is probably on his way, and Zilly is going to stay with Sion. He''s invited us to come stay with him as well. Do you really think they''ll come after us? I think I''ve done a pretty good job of pretending to be a [Glasser]. Although, come to think of it, we¡¯re screwed. Everyone knows you¡¯re a Rare. Aw man, I just got my workshop the way I like it." "Well, I''m not exactly hopping to leave either. Let''s see what our eyes can figure out first, and then we''ll decide," said Hogg. "If you''re sure..." said Brin, though he was relieved. He liked Sion, but the thought of staying at that house all the time sounded suffocating. ¡°I¡¯ve been through a dozen impressment ambushes. We¡¯ll get through this just fine. [Mages] aren¡¯t the type of people you grab off the street in the middle of the night. They¡¯ll try asking politely first. And as for you, you can just turn invisible,¡± said Hogg. ¡°If they know I¡¯m Lumina¡¯s heir, she could get in trouble if I run away,¡± said Brin. ¡°If they know you¡¯re Lumina¡¯s son, they could get in trouble if they try to nab you,¡± Hogg countered. ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m more worried about what Lumina is going to tell us when we have another chat in two weeks. We should act like that¡¯s a deadline, and finish everything we need to before then.¡± Brin stared hard at the door to his workshop. He¡¯d need to prioritize. There wasn¡¯t much he could improve with his glass here, but if he stopped messing with that he could focus on [Multithreading] and improving his laser. ¡°What do you think I should focus on?¡± asked Brin. ¡°[Meditation],¡± Hogg said without hesitating. ¡°Work on those exercises I gave you and get it up to 15, preferably 20. If you can do that in a week, I can spend the second week teaching you what I know about [Split Focus].¡± Brin readjusted his plans. First, he created a conscious thread to get started on working on [Meditation]. CT1: Yeah, no. That¡¯s not happening. Returning. Not to be deterred, he went to his workshop. Marksi followed him, and immediately started making sounds about being hungry. Brin threw a few illusionary berries together, scattering across the floor and rolling them around so that Marksi would have to work for it. Ever since he¡¯d gotten [Illusionist], he¡¯d never had to worry about keeping Marksi fed with magic. He loved the illusions that Brin could make, though he couldn¡¯t manage to consume Hogg¡¯s hard light. He laughed as he watched Marksi skitter around, and then remembered his laser. With careful hands Brin picked up the laser from its holder and pumped light inside to turn it on. It shone a clear red dot on the floor. Marksi¡¯s instinct kicked in, and he pounced at the light with full speed. Brin moved it, flying it all around the warehouse, and Marksi followed it with an intensity that Brin had rarely seen from the little dragon. He was relentless in his pursuit and it was all Brin could do to keep from laughing. Marksi had a distinct catlike side. He purred, he liked scratches right on the cheek, and he was as proud and moody as any cat Brin had ever seen. And despite turning his nose up at the idea of using a big cat¡¯s killing move, Brin couldn¡¯t help but notice that Marksi had changed his legs and head to more closely resemble a jaguar. Marksi chased the dot. Sometimes scrambling wildly after it, and sometimes waiting behind a table or a chair and then pouncing when it got close. No matter what he tried though, he couldn¡¯t seem to reach it, and after five whole minutes Brin started to feel bad and turned it off. Marksi seemed to wake up as if out of a trance. He blinked slowly around the room, thinking about what had just happened, and looking confused. Then he made the connection between the red dot and the device in Brin¡¯s hand.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Yeah, this is my newest invention! It¡¯s called a laser,¡± said Brin. Marksi drew himself up and gave a big, squeaky roar. He stomped on the ground proudly. He had killed the little red dot monster, and now by rights he was allowed to eat its heart to grow stronger. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t kill it. I turned it off!¡± Marksi roared again, more insistent. No one stole a trophy from a dragon. ¡°It doesn¡¯t even have a beast core!¡± Marksi roared a third time. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll show you,¡± said Brin. He knelt on the ground and took off the end of the laser to let Marksi peer inside. Marksi slumped in disappointment, clearly feeling that nothing in there was good to eat. Brin was relieved, since he¡¯d been ready to catch Marksi if he¡¯d tried to eat his expensive ruby. He put the top back on, sealing it with glass magic. Marksi pointed at his mouth. ¡°What? You saw that you can¡¯t eat it,¡± said Brin. Marksi pointed again, losing his patience. Brin shone the laser in Marksi¡¯s mouth. Every scale on Marksi¡¯s skin immediately turned from its shifting rainbow pattern to a bright red. In shock, Brin turned it off again, but Marksi seemed fine. He smacked his lips a couple times and marched away. For the rest of the evening, he did what Hogg suggested and worked on his [Meditation]. And while his main mind did that, he had a conscious thread monitor the Invisible Eyes that he had watching his friends. Myra traveled with the caravan. They pushed hard, wanting to get as much distance as they could between themselves and the city, just in case. Zilly was put up in a very nice room in the Wogan house, just far enough away from Sion¡¯s suite to maintain propriety. He turned that eye off when she got inside, since watching girls in their bedrooms wasn¡¯t a habit he wanted to start. To Brin¡¯s surprise, Davi also didn¡¯t leave town. When he found Jeffrey and told him the news, the older [Bard] thought it sounded like a delightful little game, and then tasked Davi with walking all the way across town and back without a single person noticing he was there. Several people called out to Davi on his first attempt, since everyone liked [Bards], and it wasn¡¯t just Brin that noticed. Jeffrey made Davi do the four hour walk a second time, and when he completed it this time, it was probably only because by the time he started it was already past sundown and by the time he finished it was well past midnight and no one was on the street. The next day was more of the same, for all of them. Zilly trained at the Wogan estate, often borrowing some of their guards or their [Steward] when he had time. Myra walked, and Davi practiced not being seen. Brin practiced [Meditation] with his main mind, but he found that using [Multithreading] was actually beneficial for this. It was easier to calm his mind and focus on his breathing when time was moving faster for some reason. He kept two conscious threads running. One to mess around with his laser, and the other to monitor his directed threads running Invisible Eyes. In addition to keeping tabs on his friends, he also searched the town for more undercover agents. To his embarrassment, it was actually Hogg who found the agents sent to watch them specifically. There was a little apartment a block away, where two officers from the army stayed. They had pictures of dozens of different men and women pinned to a big map on the wall, marking the locations of all the different Rare-Classed people in their neighborhood. Hogg¡¯s picture was displayed with two red circles around his face. Brin¡¯s picture was tacked underneath it, with a red ¡®X¡¯ crossing him out. Neither he nor Hogg were exactly sure what that meant, but they could only guess that Hogg was a target while Brin should be left alone. Hogg also found an [Illusionist] who¡¯d been staying in the Mayor¡¯s house this whole time. He¡¯d already protected the house from illusionary eavesdroppers, but Brin would have to be careful of any illusions he cast in public from now on. By the second day, he¡¯d pretty much found the limit of what he could do with lasers, so he made that thread switch to practicing with [Multithreading]. His fight with Rhun had shown him some of the strength and weaknesses of fighting with illusions. As it was, it was just a distraction, for him as well as for his opponent, so he spent some time figuring out how to make it useful. He decided to create what he called ¡°battle programs¡±, a set of instructions that a directed thread could follow during battle. The trick of substituting a Mirror Image with a glass statue had been a good idea, but he needed to be able to do that with four or five of them at a time, and he needed to be able to do it effortlessly, instead of needing to synchronize with a conscious thread in real time. He also wanted to create a fallback for what would happen if he were ever to fight someone who knew he was an illusionist. If that happened he¡¯d be at a disadvantage because his opponent would know they couldn¡¯t trust their eyes and ears, but he¡¯d have a huge advantage in the fact that he¡¯d be able to use all of his abilities to their fullest. Days passed, and the impressment didn¡¯t come. From what he saw with his Invisible Eyes, the mood around town was growing increasingly tense as more and more people figured out what was going to happen. Fewer people were seen on the streets at night, and there was always an extremely long line leaving the city walls every day, as the guard had taken to interrogating everyone who came through. Most of the rumors, as well as the theories that made the newspapers, was that there was a dangerous criminal loose in the city. There had to be a bunch of people that knew by now that the impressment was on its way, but they weren¡¯t saying anything in public. He stayed indoors, and Hogg sent out a Mirror Image made of hard light whenever they needed shopping done or some other errand run. Despite his and Hogg¡¯s best efforts, they never figured out exactly what day the draft would happen, so it stayed as a little nugget of worry in Brin¡¯s mind, always spurring him to greater focus and effort. He practiced every trick he could think of, getting creative with the way he could use illusions and glass weapons together, and memorizing spells to alter his appearance in different ways. His friends weren¡¯t any less busy. He kept Invisible Eyes on them, so he knew they trained themselves with frantic energy. Zilly practiced fighting and worked out, Rhun did the same, and even Sion was busy with meetings. Sometimes new deals with new [Merchants], but usually status meetings for the Wogans¡¯ many investments and projects. Marksi often stayed in the workshop and played with whatever random illusions Brin happened to be working on, but just as often he spent his time outdoors, harassing the neighborhood rats and fighting wild dogs and cats for his territory. Davi was busy, too, but his training was the most nonsensical. Jeffrey had him running around town on silly errands, or tasked him with convincing strangers to give him random objects in their possession, or had him practice his lute in strange positions, underwater or standing on his head. The most normal training he did was when Jeffrey ordered him to spar with Zilly while the older [Bard] used his magic to try to trip him up. One thing was clear, Zilly really had gotten better in the last ten levels. She held her own against Davi now, and took him apart when Jeffrey played against him. Frankly, it looked like bullying, but Davi did everything he was asked without a single word of complaint, though Brin could tell that the growing tension was starting to get to him. Did Jeffrey want Davi to get drafted? Was he just wasting time until then? If that was the case, Brin promised himself he¡¯d find a way to get Davi off the hook. The [Meditation] went quickly. The System didn¡¯t punish him for the fact that he¡¯d done all this before, so he could often get levels by repeating exercises that he remembered had given him progress the first time around. By the fourth day, he reached [Meditation] level 15. Hogg told him to keep going. The next day he didn¡¯t get a single level in [Meditation], which got him worried. Meditating was easier when he didn¡¯t devote his entire attention to it, but he thought he might also be limiting the bonuses he got for it. The sixth day, he dismissed all his threads and focused his entire mind only on running through the [Meditation] exercises Hogg had given him, earning two more levels. When a week had finally passed, Brin woke up feeling like it was Christmas morning. Finally, he could leave this house and do something else. Today was the day of Zilly and Rhun¡¯s duel. Magic: 205 -> 210 Mental Control: 241 -> 253 Will: 147 -> 149 Shape Glass: 41 -> 42 Call Light through Glass: 50 -> 54 Call Sound through Glass: 38 -> 40 Meditation: 11 -> 17 Book 4 - Chapter 11.5 Information Name: Brin isu Yambul Age: 14 Race: Human Class: Glassbound Illusionist Level: 38 Attributes Strength: 222 Dexterity: 157 Vitality: 193 Magic: 210 Mental Control: 254 Will: 149 Unassigned points: 10 Titles Survivor of Travin''s Bog You survived the massacre at Travin¡¯s Bog that ended your family. You have survived a fatal wound that stopped your heart. +50% resistance to heat, cold and poison. Instinctual awareness of attacks that will cause you death or fatal injury. Traveler You have journeyed to a strange and foreign land where you now live. +30% movement speed when out of combat You have a largely increased ability to learn languages. Otherworlder You have traversed the stars and arrived at an entirely new world. +50% experience while your Class is below level 30. Strengthened immune system. Strengthened magic resistance. Scarred, but Healing (3) You have been scarred, but you¡¯re healing. You have upgraded this title twice. Your scars are regenerative. Healing rate increases based on upgrades and the amount of fully healed scars. Your wounds heal 255% faster. Glassbound Like a shattered mirror, you are strong and sharp yet oddly fragile. Feel the presence and relative location of glass. Drastically increased mana efficiency when working with glass. -50% experience from all sources. Savior of Hammon¡¯s Bog You have saved Hammon¡¯s Bog from the dread Witch Siphani. Gain +20% power from all attributes while in Hammon¡¯s Bog. Achievements Warbound (Legendary) Warfare was his birthright, he craved the clash of steel, He sang a song of bloodshed that the dead could hear and feel, The terror of the battlefield, a cursed child was found. Warbound. +20% to all attributes. Additional +10% to Mental Control. +100% experience from melee combat. +100% Resistance to physical damage. Battle Fury and Battle Sense skills added. Monster Hunter IV (Rare) You have defeated more than 65 monsters and have slain the Matriarch of a monster species. +20% attribute growth rate for all attributes. Improved resistance to sound-based attacks. Improved travel underwater.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Filial Piety (Epic) You performed a noble act of service to your father at great risk to yourself, freeing his captive soul from those who bound him in servitude. You have freed your mother from her abominable fate. Extra resistance against mental manipulation, soul manipulation, and Mana pool manipulation. +100% Magic attribute growth. +100% Mental Control attribute growth. This achievement is incomplete. Blessing of the Hidden Guardian (Rare) You have been seen and accepted by the one who lays beneath. You gain further insight into your companion¡¯s abilities. Meditative (Rare) You have reached level 20 in the Meditation Skill +10 Mental Control Athletic (Rare) You have reached level 20 in the Athleticism Skill. +10 Vitality Strong V (Rare) You have reached 169 Strength. +50% speed with Strength-intensive activities. +50% Strength attribute growth. Dextrous IV (Common) You have reached 104 Dexterity. +10% Dexterity (Transferred from Thief). +40% speed with Dexterity-intensive activities. +40% Dexterity attribute growth. Lively IV (Common) You have reached 104 Vitality. +40% recovery from wounds. +40% stamina. +40% Vitality attribute growth. Magical V (Rare) You have reached 169 Magic. +50% spell power. +50% mana regeneration. +50% Magic attribute growth Controlled V (Rare) You have reached 169 Mental Control. +50% focus and concentration +50% Mental Control attribute growth Disciplined IV (Common) You have reached 104 Will +40% spell power. +40% skill power. +40% Will attribute growth. Workhorse (Rare) You work like a horse. You earned many attribute achievements before unlocking your System. +10 Vitality. +2 Strength per level, +1 Dexterity per level, +2 Vitality per level, +1 Will per level, +1 Mental Control per level Celebrated Creativity (Rare) You have authored and performed a song which has been sung by over one thousand people. Without aid, you have created a complex invention based on a technical diagram. You wrote the hit song ¡°They call me Kukubaru.¡± You can make this Achievement visible to [Inspect] as proof that you¡¯re the original author. You can sign anything you create with messages visible to Inspect as proof that you were their creator. You can hide details about your creation from Inspect. This ability improves with Hide Status. +20% to all attributes while creating, performing, or inventing. This bonus cannot be applied during combat. Dreamguard (Rare) You have defended your dreams against a powerful monster Dramatically improved resistance against mental and soul manipulation while sleeping. You need less sleep for full restfulness. You can control your dreams. General Skills Know What¡¯s Real You have the ability to understand when something you experience or remember is real, and when it is an illusion or dream. Hearing increased. Vision in darkness increased. You can now approximate the value of things. Know What¡¯s Wyrd You can sense the Wyrd. Increased resistance to the Wyrd and Wyrd-related abilities. Monster Sense You have a moderate ability to sense monsters in the area. You can sense the difference between monsters and natural animals. You can sense the intentions of monsters through the Wyrd, even when no clash of magic is present. Inspect (41) Active Skill - Receive information on the target. Upgradeable. Hide Status (21) Your Class and other System details are hidden from Inspect and other observation skills. Note: Your information may still be vulnerable due to high level disparities and powerful inspection skills. Upgradeable. Athletic Training (35) Train your body¡¯s strength, fitness and agility through concentrated and directed effort. +100% [Athletic Training] Skill growth +3% increase to physical attribute growth rate per level of [Athletic Training] Upgradeable. Battle Fury (Epic) Your fury in battle lends you greater power. +5% increase to the effects of your Strength, Dexterity, and Vitality with each wound you take and with each wound you give. +50% increase with each enemy you slay. These increases are capped at +100% These increases expire thirty minutes after you leave combat. Battle Sense You have an innate sense about the position of your allies and enemies in conflict. You have an innate sense of how to direct your allies to greatest effectiveness during conflict. Meditation (17) You can meditate. At higher levels, this will aid your ability to calm your mind and focus. Class Skills Multithreading You can break mental processes into multiple threads in order to run them concurrently. As this is a Unique Skill. You can make special directed threads with high focus at a much reduced mental cost. This Skill scales with Mental Control. Shape Glass (42) You have the ability to transform glass. This Skill grows with your understanding and experience working with glass. This Skill has been upgraded twice. Summon Glass (29) You can use your magic to call glass into being. This Skill grows with your understanding and experience working with glass. Heat Resistance You have greatly increased resistance to heat and burns. Memories in Glass You can perfectly recall anything you¡¯ve seen or learned about glass. In addition, this Skill allows you to store your memories in Glass, to be retrieved and reviewed at your convenience. Stored memories do not need to involve glass. Call Light through Glass (50) Summon illusory light through glass. This Skill has been upgraded once. Call Sound through Glass (40) Summon illusory sound through glass. Mana Well +50% to the amount of mana you generate and hold. Oaths Oath of the Quest Survivor You have sworn never to speak of how you became the beneficiary of a Quest Book 4 - Chapter 12 Brin got to Sion¡¯s place early, and to his surprise he saw Jeffrey waiting out in the courtyard. He hadn¡¯t expected the older [Bard] to show up for Zilly¡¯s duel. Hogg hadn¡¯t decided to come, and if he¡¯d put a Visible Eye in place somewhere around here to watch, Brin hadn¡¯t spotted it yet. Jeffrey leaned against a stone fence separating the open circle where they¡¯d have the fight from the new and thriving Spice of Heart bushes. It almost seemed like too nice of an area to have a duel, but there weren¡¯t really any trashy places on the Wogan estate, and this was an area where they could get rough without messing up the lawn. Brin marched over and got straight to the point. ¡°Davi doesn¡¯t want to get drafted for the war.¡± Jeffrey strummed his lute. ¡°Neither do I want that for him. And if he is careful with his music and craft, he won¡¯t be.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your game, Jeffrey? Why are you still in Blackcliff?¡± ¡°Do you think I would tell you after I refused to tell Davi himself?¡± Jeffrey asked with an easy grin. It was a disarming answer and Brin didn¡¯t feel even a bit of irritation. He didn¡¯t even feel the tell-tale signs of some Skill brushing up against his Mental Resistance, but that was a testament to how subtle Jeffrey¡¯s mental manipulation could be. Brin had been ready for this, so he scowled and folded his arms, forcing his body to mime the extreme irritation he should be feeling like that. ¡°That¡¯s because he¡¯s too nice, and he trusts you. But you¡¯re just one [Bard], Jeffrey, and the kingdom will have plans for [Bards]. If you¡¯re still in town when the impressment happens, there¡¯s no guarantee you won¡¯t get caught.¡± Jeffrey shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ve got me there.¡± ¡°Then why do this? You helped us against Aberfa, too, and a hundred other times. I¡¯ve never really thanked you for it, but I also never really understood why.¡± ¡°That creature sang a song that had never touched human ears, a new song, and I was among the first to hear it.¡± Jeffrey smiled wistfully. From what Brin remembered, Jeffrey hadn¡¯t even been at the beach during that last fight with Aberfa; he¡¯d been all the way back at the caravan guarding the wagon. What exactly was this man capable of? He waited for Jeffrey to continue. ¡°Hopefully I won¡¯t upset you if you thought I had some sort of complicated scheme. I¡¯m really just in this for the music. And as for Davi? He has one more song to sing before we can leave Blackcliff.¡± Not too long after, his friends filtered out of the Wogan building. Sion greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, but he was the only one who looked to be his normal self. Davi and Zilly looked worn and withdrawn, no doubt from the seven days of constantly looking over their shoulders. Rhun, on the other hand, practically vibrated with energy. He grinned widely when he saw Brin already waiting in the courtyard, and had a skip in his step when he walked to his place. Zilly reluctantly took her place opposite him, doing her best to summon up her trademark cocky grin. ¡°Are you really that sure you can beat me?¡± ¡°Not at all!¡± said Rhun. ¡°The exciting thing is to try.¡± ¡°I can respect that, I guess,¡± Zilly admitted. They all waited for a bit, until they realized that Myra wasn¡¯t going to referee. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± said Davi. ¡°Rules are the same as last time. The duel ends with first blood, ring out, or surrender.¡± Both Zilly and Rhun nodded. Davi said, ¡°Begin.¡± Zilly used [Dash] to cover the ground between them in a flash, but then bailed on it halfway through, jumping to the side. No doubt she¡¯d been expecting Rhun to use [Charge], but he stayed in place, sword up in the guard position. Zilly [Dashed] back to give herself some space, then used two more in quick succession to zip towards Rhun from an unexpected direction. At the very last second, he stepped towards her. He caught her blade on his forearm, and then dropped his sword to catch her leg as she tried to [Kick] him. Suddenly, she was pinned. It took Brin just a moment to figure out what had just happened. Rhun had anticipated that Zilly would try to [Kick] him to disrupt his [Iron Body], and then a quick slice with her sword would end the fight. He¡¯d caught the sword first, and then absorbed the [Kick] afterwards once her sword didn¡¯t have any more leverage. One thing Brin hadn¡¯t known in his old life was how different real fights were from the ones on TV. His high school hadn¡¯t had a lot of fistfights, so he hadn¡¯t really understood until he got to Hammon¡¯s Bog and was surrounded by boys who¡¯d fight for any reason or no reason at all. The biggest thing he¡¯d learned was that fights always went to the ground. Growing up on television, he¡¯d sort of expected fistfights to be closer to an eight-round boxing match. In real life, you got one, maybe two good punches in before it became a wrestling match. Clearly, Zilly¡¯s expectations went the same direction, because her eyes went wide in shock when Rhun pushed her forward and brought her to the ground. She struggled like an eel in a net, but once they hit the floor the fight was over. With a sword, she¡¯d practiced as much as anyone Brin had ever met, but when it came to wrestling it was clear she was a novice. She flailed, panicked, while Rhun¡¯s movements had the firm control of someone who¡¯d been here a thousand times. In seconds, he had her pinned against the ground. They waited for a long moment, too long, for Zilly to come up with some trick to get out of the hold, but despite her writhing and straining, she couldn¡¯t escape. All her best Skills needed some space to work in and with Rhun on top of her there was nowhere to go. She was stuck. ¡°That¡­ that¡¯s the match!¡± Davi called out. Rhun rolled to the side and stood up. He pumped his fist in the air in triumph, pacing in place but restraining himself from cheering out loud. Brin could see why he was happy; [Inspect] showed that Rhun had just gained two levels. No one celebrated with him. Even Sion couldn¡¯t bring himself to clap. Zilly shot up and stalked to the edge of the circle where no one could see her face, though Brin didn¡¯t miss her red cheeks and watery eyes. One thing he had learned from high school was how often the guys on the wrestling team cried after a match. The sudden intense spike in adrenaline, followed by the frustration of failure created a sensation of such extreme loss that it was impossible to resist, especially if it was your first time. Somehow, even after all the times Brin had beaten her, Rhun had been the one to deliver the reality check that Zilly so obviously needed. It wasn¡¯t as satisfying as Brin thought it would be. Eventually, Zilly got her emotions under control, wiped her face, and turned around. ¡°Again.¡± ¡°Yes, naturally,¡± Rhun said. Their second fight was close to the same as their first one the week before had been. Zilly used [Dash] to move in and out of combat, and this time was careful never to get close enough for Rhun to grab her again. She fought tactically, using testing strikes and waiting for her moment, until finally Rhun left enough of an opening for her to nick his shoulder with an [Overload] swing, even without a [Kick] to soften him up. Everyone clapped and cheered enthusiastically after her victory, but Zilly barely noticed. She stalked away from the circle, headed back to the house, and gave Davi a firm ¡°No¡± when he tried to follow her. Rhun was still grinning, unbothered. ¡°Now you!¡± he said, pointed at Brin. ¡°Sure,¡± Brin said. He noticed Zilly pause at the doors to the house, looking back. He picked up his Bog Standard spear and moved to the opposite side of the circle from Rhun. ¡°Is it ok that I have a spear? It¡¯s my weapon of choice, but I know it might not be fair in a duel like this.¡± ¡°A spear is fine,¡± said Rhun. ¡°Use everything you have; I want a proper victory.¡± Brin took a moment to decide how to do this. He still had more than enough levels on Rhun to make this an easy fight, but he wanted to test out one of the battle plans he¡¯d been working on this past week. Main: run Shadow Blade. DT1: Running. For this to be a good test, the Directed Thread should be able to summon the magic he needed and use it, all without any more input from him. He swished his blade around, and was pleased with what he saw. This particular spell was simple, but he thought it would be especially confounding to someone like Rhun. All it did was make his spear invisible, and then show an illusory copy of it right behind where it actually was. When he held still, the illusion and the real thing should match up again, but when he moved it would always look like the spear was moving slower than it really was.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Brin nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡± Davi called the fight. ¡°Begin!¡± Rhun [Charged], forcing Brin to roll out of the way or lose the duel right there. He knew he was much stronger than his opponent, so he could maybe stop a [Charge], but why risk it? As soon as he got to his feet, Rhun [Charged] again, and Brin dodged again. ¡°I can do this all day.¡± Rhun frowned, but didn¡¯t charge again. This time he approached more cautiously, using the careful steps that would make sure Brin couldn¡¯t trip him by forcing him to change direction at the wrong time. Brin walked more casually, back straight as if this was nothing to him. He sliced with his spear, and the effect was much better than he¡¯d ever hoped for. Rhun moved his sword to parry, but his timing was off so he barely got off a clumsy block that Brin easily pushed out of the way. He stabbed forward, stopping short of Rhun¡¯s throat and crooked an eyebrow. Rhun scowled and pushed the spear away. He took two steps back and then held up his guard again. Brin didn¡¯t wait for Rhun to use [Charge]. He attacked, throwing himself into the standard set of strikes that he¡¯d first learned when he¡¯d taken up the spear. They should¡¯ve been easy and predictable, but the fact that his illusion was changing how his spear looked made his swings look like the sudden, instantly deadly strike of a viper. The effect was glorious; Rhun could do nothing to keep up. He was definitely the type of guy who¡¯d drilled endlessly to get as good as he was, but now Brin was using that training against him. He was pleased to see that his Directed Thread was making the light match up with the spear¡¯s actual location every time that it struck Rhun¡¯s sword, making it look real. The entire thing was working so well that it took him by surprise that it was over. His last five strikes had given Rhun three wounds. ¡°That¡¯s blood!¡± Davi called. ¡°My bad,¡± said Brin. Rhun sheathed his sword. ¡°Well fought. Though we did say first blood.¡± ¡°Yeah, sorry about that,¡± said Brin. ¡°I¡­ um. Nevermind.¡± He was about to say that he didn¡¯t expect to win so easily, but that would be poor sportsmanship. Despite the fact that Rhun got under his skin, he hadn¡¯t rubbed his victory in Zilly¡¯s face nearly as much as he could have. Despite his best hopes, no one really wanted to hang out after that. Rhun¡¯s win had put Zilly in a bad mood, and she sulked in a corner giving one-word answers to every question. It seemed to affect Davi as well, who grew increasingly somber as the day went on. Rhun left quickly, citing the need for more training. That left him and Sion to hold up the conversation by themselves, but it was awkward since they really just wanted to talk about the fights and they couldn¡¯t with Zilly still smarting from her loss. It was a relief when enough time had passed that he could leave. He made sure to make Zilly and Davi promise to stop by and say goodbye before leaving town, and they agreed quickly, both of them consumed with their own thoughts. With nothing else to say, Brin set off through the front doors. He walked alone through the gardens, until he heard footsteps running up behind him. It was Zilly, and she caught up with him right at the manor gates. ¡°I need to ask you something,¡± she said. Brin turned. He waited expectantly, but she bit her lip and looked away. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Do I suck?¡± ¡°No!¡± Brin said. ¡°Seriously! Don¡¯t worry about today.¡± ¡°Rhun is ten levels lower than me,¡± said Zilly. ¡°Not to mention all my Achievements. I fought in a war! I killed all those chimeras, I traveled all on my own through a monster-infested forest, and I was with you when we killed that giant, and when we invaded a [Witch¡¯s] home, and then when we turned back a swarm of monsters on the beach. All of those Achievements together are practically a second Class!¡± ¡°Rhun is a [Warrior]. He¡¯s going to be stupidly strong for his level. Plus, you have no idea what Rhun¡¯s been through; he might have some Achievements of his own.¡± ¡°Not like mine. There¡¯s no way Rhun has been through half as much as we have. You can see it in his eyes.¡± ¡°True, but you¡¯re taking this like a huge loss. You lost one bout in four, and now that you¡¯re aware of a major blindspot, you will never lose to him again,¡± said Brin. The corner of Zilly¡¯s mouth quirked up just a bit. ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± ¡°Of course it¡¯s true! Now get out of here before that enlistment starts and you get dragged off to Prinnash!¡± said Brin. Zilly froze, going a bit pale as she no doubt realized they were inches away from the public street. ¡°I forgot about that!¡± ¡°How? It¡¯s literally all I can think about, and I¡¯m not even in any real danger,¡± said Brin. ¡°Bye, Brin!¡± Zilly shouted, already running back to the mansion. Brin shook his head and turned back to walk through the city. There was the same ever-present tension in the air on the walk home as everyone in town held their breath in anticipation, though most of the town still didn¡¯t know for what. He saw lots of gazes directed at his scars and he knew that many [Inspects] were being fired his way when he got a notification. Hide Status leveled up! 21 -> 22 Back at home, he found Hogg in the living room, and for once he wasn¡¯t wearing his regular black leathers. He was dressed up in a nice linen suit. It was maroon with a lime green shirt and a yellow scarf, with shoes that matched the scarf. Hogg never wore colors other than black; it was so foreign that Brin didn¡¯t even recognize him at first. It was jarring, as if waking up and all the clouds were blue while the sky was white. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What¡¯s going on?¡± Brin asked. ¡°I think it¡¯s going to be tonight,¡± said Hogg. ¡°I already sent a Mirror Image to tell Jeffrey to get out of town. For my part, I thought a bit of a disguise was in order.¡± ¡°No one will ever recognize you,¡± said Brin seriously. ¡°But this isn¡¯t all!¡± A mask of hard light appeared on Hogg¡¯s face, first black, but then it separated into a muddy mess of swirling color before finally resolving into the shape of a fatter, wider and completely unknown face. Hogg suddenly appeared to be a much older man with sagging jowls and a soft brow that made him look ordinary and a little dumb. Brin only saw the fierce intelligence still smoldering in Hogg¡¯s eyes because he knew to look for it. Hogg made some faces to show off his new mask¡¯s flexibility. ¡°It¡¯s the exact same spell as if I used light magic. The only problem is how uncomfortable it is. It feels like my face has been wrapped in marble. Oh well, it¡¯s just one night.¡± ¡°When do you think they¡¯ll come?¡± ¡°No way to know, but they¡¯re suiting up and sharpening their swords, so to speak. It¡¯ll be tonight.¡± Brin sat in the living room and waited as long as he could, but doing nothing was driving him crazy, so he busied himself by tinkering around in his shop. The hours went by, and nothing happened. He checked on the Invisible Eyes he had watching his friends. Davi and Zilly were waiting at the Wogan estate. Maybe that was for the best? Jeffrey and Davi would have a better chance hiding out there than trying to outrun the enlistment officers right at the last minute. Hours passed. The sun went down. Nothing happened. Then, he noticed some motion in his Invisible Eyes. Davi and Zilly were leaving the Wogan estate. At first he couldn¡¯t believe what he was seeing, but yes, they were definitely leaving the mansion and walking into town. How could they be so stupid? He saw Jeffrey tailing them, which was a relief, but he didn¡¯t even know if they knew he was there. Had they decided to join up with the army without him? That might explain it, but they moved cautiously through the streets. Zilly scouted ahead, using her [Rogue] Dexterity to keep out of view while Davi played softly, singing that he was nothing, he wasn¡¯t there, so look the other way¡­ They didn¡¯t turn themselves in, but then they also didn¡¯t leave town. They made their way to the dueling grounds near his house, the first one where Zilly had fought Rhun, and then waited there. That was too much for him. Brin threw Self-Invisibility over himself and then dashed through the street to find them, barely noticing Hogg following and Marksi skittering along behind him as well. He approached the dueling ground, looked both ways to make sure no one from the army was nearby, and then dropped out of stealth. ¡°See? I told you he¡¯d know we were here,¡± said Davi. ¡°What are you guys doing?¡± Brin whisper-shouted. ¡°Are you crazy?¡± ¡°I need to ask you something,¡± said Zilly. ¡°We can talk about this later! First, let¡¯s get out of¨C¡± ¡°No,¡± said Zilly. ¡°I need to know. Do I suck?¡± ¡°No!¡± Brin said, not caring that he was shouting for real. ¡°We just went over this!¡± Zilly smiled casually, but Brin knew her well enough to see the burning resentment underneath. ¡°We did, and believe me, I was really grateful for the things you said. You made me feel a lot better. Because you were right, I am good. I beat Rhun three out of four! I¡¯m not some normal kid; I know that. I picked a fight with every tough-looking idiot in the Boglands and I won them all without a sweat. There¡¯s no one like us. I¡¯m not just good. I¡¯m amazing.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell you,¡± said Brin. ¡°The problem isn¡¯t that I¡¯m weak. The problem is that you¡¯re too strong.¡± ¡°I¡¯m only as strong as I have to be to keep up with you three,¡± Brin said, pleading. Zilly shook her head. ¡°You never fight me with your full strength. You¡¯ve been going easy on me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± said Brin. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I know I can¡¯t beat you on my own, but I still want to see you go all out. That¡¯s why I brought Davi along,¡± said Zilly, finally beginning to smile in a way that looked real. Brin ground his teeth in frustration. ¡°You want to do two versus one? You want to do that now?¡± Davi gave Brin a weird smile, both parts guilty and proud. ¡°That was my idea. We want to fight you at full strength, but we still chose an arena that benefits us. If you have abilities that you don¡¯t want people to know about¡­¡± Davi made a big show of looking around. ¡°...then you¡¯d better be careful. I¡¯m going to be making a lot of noise pretty soon, and it¡¯ll draw some attention.¡± Brin shook his head. ¡°Why did you think I would agree to this?¡± Zilly¡¯s smile was all teeth. ¡°You¡¯re going to agree. Because you want to see if you can beat us. You understand, right? Why it has to be now?¡± ¡°You always have the worst timing,¡± said Brin. Because he was listening for it, he heard Jeffrey¡¯s song, nearly silent in the background, and could feel it pressing against his mental resistance. ¡°Stop that!¡± ¡°I apologize,¡± said Jeffrey. ¡°But I¡¯ll admit, I also wish to see how this will go.¡± Brin looked over to see Hogg, still in disguise, who just shrugged. It still boggled his mind that Davi was going along with this. Even Marksi chirped in agreement. Were they really all ok with this? Was there really no one here who would step up and be the voice of reason? There was one person: Brin himself. ¡°I refuse.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 13 For the most part, Brin felt himself a natural Frenarian. He¡¯d lived in this world for a couple years now. He adopted their culture, ate their food, and dressed in their clothes, which led him to believe that his mind sort of worked the same way theirs did. All that fell apart in moments like this, when he came face to face with a decision that seemed completely insane and stupid, or both. Zilly and Davi weren¡¯t stupid, and they weren¡¯t crazy either. Zilly was impulsive, sure, but this looked like something they¡¯d planned on together after careful deliberation. So why? Because of the System. Because they¡¯re grown up with it, and understood it on an instinctual level. The System gave better rewards when you risked something. A duel on a bridge over an active volcano would give better experience than a duel on flat ground. Winning a duel in the middle of a mass conscription, fighting while avoiding the eyes of ranks of soldiers sent out to arrest you would give massive experience, maybe even an Achievement. On one hand, literally any other time would be better for this showdown. On the other hand, that made this the perfect time. ¡°Sorry, Brin, but we¡¯re not taking no for an answer,¡± said Davi. ¡°This is crazy,¡± said Brin. Zilly stepped forward and drew her sword. ¡°This duel isn¡¯t going to stop at first blood, since you only get stronger when you get wounded. The contest only ends when one team can¡¯t keep going, or if we get caught by the press gangs. If you try to run, we¡¯ll catch you, and if you try to surrender we¡¯ll turn you in.¡± Davi winced but didn¡¯t countermand her. ¡°You both want to get drafted. Is that it?¡± Brin asked. ¡°I really don¡¯t,¡± Davi answered. ¡°But we have to be ready to risk it all, or it won¡¯t be worth anything.¡± ¡°What Achievement do you think you¡¯re going to get from this?¡± Brin asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Zilly said brightly. ¡°You¡¯re crazy. You¡¯re really ready to risk conscription for the chance at an Achievement you don¡¯t even know exists?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± she said. Brin should¡¯ve expected that. They¡¯d risked their lives time and again to hunt monsters in the forest. Compared to following him to that [Witch¡¯s] house or onto the beach last month, this was actually a much smaller risk. Instead of betting their lives, they were only risking their futures. He hated to admit it, but excitement was already thrumming in his veins. His mind was already at work formulating strategies. He¡¯d shown just a hint of what his Class was capable of in his battle with Rhun, and he was eager to try out more. Most of all, he was more than ready to humble these two idiot teenagers. He cracked his neck side to side and gave his spear a practice spin. ¡°You know, this only works if you win. And I don¡¯t think you can.¡± ¡°Then the Achievement will be yours. Consider it my parting gift,¡± Zilly answered. Brin created several directed threads. Some of them he sent out to scour the city, in order to get an overview of what was going on in different sections of town. He made a task manager, a mouth manager, an eye for the back of his head. Most, though, he left in standby, waiting for his orders. ¡°So what are we waiting for?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Hogg said the impressment is going to happen tonight, right? We¡¯ll let them signal the start of the match,¡± said Zilly. Brin shook his head and decided not to tell her she was crazy again. He was beginning to sound like a broken record. ¡°I want a different win condition. Once you two realize how completely outmatched you are, promise me you¡¯ll give up and focus on escaping the draft.¡± Zilly and Davi made eye contact and they both grinned. ¡°Not going to happen,¡± said Zilly. Brin looked back at Hogg, who was still unrecognizable in his disguise. ¡°Can you at least help make sure they don¡¯t get nicked?¡± ¡°Who, me?¡± Hogg asked in an overdone old-man voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know you! I¡¯m Kidhum Bats, a humble [Carpenter].¡± Brin¡¯s [Inspect] confirmed that this was a poorly dressed and low-leveled [Carpenter]. As for Jeffrey, it was hard for Brin to even remember he was there. They¡¯d be no help. ¡°You guys are the worst,¡± said Brin. ¡°Well, if I beat you quick enough it won¡¯t matter. I¡¯m not waiting for the impressment. You want to do this, then we should start n¨C¡± Just then, a glowing red rocket rose into the air from the middle of the city, making a screeching wail and lighting up the city as bright as a bolt of lightning. The flare must¡¯ve been a signal, because all at once, the sound of shouting men and barking dogs broke out across the city. Luckily, his Invisible Eyes told him that none of the troops were nearby; the ones who had been assigned to arrest Zilly and Davi must still have been looking for them at the Wogan place. He didn¡¯t have any more time to watch the city; his own fight had begun. Main: Invisibility, please Task Manager: Activating Invisibility The thread had been ready, and so Brin faded out of view just as Zilly [Dashed] forwards to reach him. He easily dodged out of her path, and then focused on Davi. Just as the [Skald] put his fingers to his strings, Brin put a field of complete silence over the entire area. Let¡¯s see if you can use your [Bard] power on the sound of nothing. The magics clashed, his silence against Davi¡¯s music, and he immediately felt the Wyrd give Davi the upper hand. [Skalds] played music; and music needed to be heard. He felt his silence spell shatter, and Davi¡¯s song rang out. It was one he hadn¡¯t heard before, but he knew immediately that it had been custom made for Zilly herself. Zilly¡¯s anthem. The music was stronger than it had been before, more powerful. As a [Bard], motivating people in battle was only a side-case for their set of abilities, but as a [Skald], this was what Davi was for. The music¡¯s power roared with an intensity Brin had never felt before, especially not on this side of it. Maybe he could¡¯ve formulated another argument in the Wyrd capable of beating Davi¡¯s music, but he had no time to think about that, not with the way Zilly was moving. She seemed to have a precognitive ability to find him wherever he ran, and he only narrowly managed to keep out of the reach of her sword. Ok, plan B. Main: Army of Glass Main: Hail of Darts Task Manager: Activating Army of Glass. Hail of Darts in 7 seconds. Mirror Images sprang up around him. Four at a time until there were twelve. Each of them covered a thin glass statue, and each statue had a real glass spear. He¡¯d spent a lot of time tweaking these statues into something usable; he needed to be able to summon them in the span of a breath, so he¡¯d settled on making them a paper-thin shell of glass. The only reason to have glass at all was to hide the fact that he was an [Illusionist], so it didn¡¯t really matter how strong it was, and like this he could summon a dozen at once. The spears weren¡¯t any stronger, but they were sharp enough to cut straight to the bone. Brin jumped in and stabbed at Zilly to keep her distracted while his Mirror Men were still forming. They exchanged a wild, brutal series of blows, with Zilly lashing out in every direction and unable to see him. Maybe due to Davi¡¯s song, she came off better. She took a thin slash to the thigh, and gave him a deep gouge on his shoulder and a scratch on his forehead that he just knew was going to drip into his eye. It didn¡¯t matter; every wound she took slowed her down, and every wound he received only made him stronger. Already, [Battle Fury] was at fifteen percent. The Mirror Men closed on her, and Brin stepped back. Since the glass was so thin, he could use [Shape Glass] to move them quickly, and his directed threads were doing a great job of making them move realistically. Well, no, they were kind of crap. The legs barely moved as they zoomed forward, but it was good enough for now. Zilly looked as if she was ready to try to charge through them and keep pursuing the real Brin, but Davi¡¯s song shifted, warning her to stay back, and she instantly obeyed, using [Dash] to make some distance. Brin cursed. With how sharp their spears were, he had a chance to do real damage if they all hit her at once, but he saw that wasn¡¯t going to happen. She used [Dash] to keep to the edges, picking them off one at a time. Each slash of her sword shattered another copy, exploding through their thin shells in bursts of glass that made rainbows in the dim lantern light. Task Manager: Hail of Darts ready. Main: Go. Brin felt the pull on his power; the spell was formed. He grabbed the spell at the last second and directed it into the area where Zilly and Davi stood. He saw Davi turn and start running, obviously sensing the magic somehow, but that wouldn¡¯t matter. Brin didn¡¯t name the spell ¡°Hail of Darts¡± because it was only one or two darts. Hundreds of inch-long needles of glass poured across the entire area, and there was nowhere for the two of them to dodge. At the last second Davi turned and cradled his oud in his arms. Zilly followed suit, hiding her face and hands. The needles poured over them, and when the two of them straightened, there were many still lodged into the skin. The damage was superficial, but that didn¡¯t matter. Damage wasn¡¯t the point. Wounds were. Brin¡¯s [Battle Fury] was at 100%. Main: Drop invisibility. Activate Disguise. Task Manager: Disguise Activated. He still wasn¡¯t good enough at illusions for a real disguise, but he could make little changes, and a bunch of little changes added up. He turned his black hair into a more Frenarian light brown, turned his blue eyes brown as well, and removed all his scars. It didn¡¯t sound like a lot, but looking into a mirror this way, Brin didn¡¯t recognize himself. He wouldn¡¯t remove the disguise again for the rest of the night, just in case that kingdom [Illusionist] was watching. Zilly¡¯s eyes darted around, not trusting that there wasn¡¯t another illusion going on, but Brin hardly needed it anymore, not with [Battle Fury] fully charged. He leapt at her, swinging with his spear, thrilling in the extraordinary strength and power [Battle Fury] gave him. She dodged, and the spear cracked the stones on the ground where she¡¯d been standing. He needed no time to redirect his movements, and followed her as she tried to roll out of the way. She narrowly escaped being sliced apart by blocking him twice, midair, in a startling display of athleticism. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she [Dashed] backwards. He followed. With his stats doubled, he was blindingly fast, and her [Dash] didn¡¯t give her nearly as much space as she thought it would. Every time she finished a [Dash], he caught up with her, forcing her to parry or block before [Dashing] again. The first two times, he powered through her block and cut her forearm and then grazed her ribs. The next two times, she blocked completely, narrowly deflecting him from cutting something important. The strike after that, she blocked hard enough that his spear rang like a bell and bounced to the side. Something was wrong. He swept his spear down at her again, but this time she deflected it easily. The next two strikes were stronger still, and now she was pressing him back. He was certain now. Whether it was Davi¡¯s music or some new Skill, each of her strikes were stronger than the one before. He pulled on his light magic and cast the entire area in darkness while he backed up and tried to think of his next plan. Something struck his magic like a physical blow, lightening the area for a split second despite his best efforts. Some kind of bomb? A flashbang! Zilly must¡¯ve had one custom made. After all, he¡¯d given her the idea. He felt the alchemical magic war with his own illusion magic, and while his illusion had the upper hand, the burst of power and surprise gave away his location for only a fraction of a second. The split second of light gave Zilly more than enough to charge him, and he deflected her blow, letting her sudden titanic strength push him back and away from her. What Skill was that? An [Overload] evolution, maybe? Well, even with that, he still had the upper hand. He just had to avoid letting their weapons touch. Too risky. In a split decision, he decided to run. Main: Turn Invisibility back on Task Manager: Activated. Already, curtains were starting to open and people were starting to peek through to see what was happening. This was the last place he wanted to be if he was going to disguise his Class. Zilly and Davi had given him an advantage when they told him that if he ran they¡¯d follow. If he kept going here, he gave himself a sixty percent chance of winning. Good odds, but why not make them better? If these two were really going to do this, then he would make them earn it. Newly invisible again, he turned and ran. Zilly followed him, of course, and Davi followed her. He turned left down one street, and right down another, but they stayed hot on his heels, not missing a beat. He wondered what Zilly was tracking him with; it was probably heat sense. [Rogues] could sense heat almost as well as he could see light. He headed towards the sound of shouting. Only a couple streets down, he found them. Men in blue and white uniforms, wearing polished breastplates and helmets and carrying truncheons marched down the street in a line, while specialists with a wide assortment of weapons went from house to house, sometimes bearing [Rare]-Classed people out again bound and gagged. Brin ran straight around the line of soldiers and then straight down the middle of the street. He panicked a bit when he saw one of the doorbusters flinch and stare straight at him, but the man shrugged and turned back to the house he was invading. Brin smiled in relief, and also in success. There was no way Zilly and Davi would follow him this way. He passed the press gang, and then kept running, giving himself some space between them. He had no problem using them as an obstacle, but he didn¡¯t want to press his luck. After he felt he was safely away, he checked back for Zilly and Davi. Main: Show me Zilly and Davi. Screen 1 Task Manager: Showing on screen 1 A little screen opened up on the bottom left hand side of his field of vision, showing him the view from the Invisible Eye that had been following his friends. Zilly and Davi were still running. They¡¯d gone all the way around the press gang, and now Zilly was looking straight up. No, her eyes were closed. She was sniffing. Suddenly, she changed direction, and now she was headed straight for him. Unfair. She could smell him. Brin scanned the horizon, the night sky perfectly clear to his darkvision. He saw smoke rising from the eastern section of the city; that would be the best place to lose someone with a good sense of smell. He started running again. Not that he meant to lose them completely; that would be anti-climactic. Once they didn¡¯t know where he was, he¡¯d be able to launch a perfect ambush. Actually, why not get that started now? Main: Javelin, pleaseYou might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Task Manager: Summoning He felt his mouth move with the Language and soon he had a nice, long javelin in his hands. He decided to actually launch the thing himself; directed threads could do rote tasks, but for getting real power out of the Language it was best if he used his normal mind. Davi and Zilly ran from a side street two blocks down. This was the perfect range. ¡°¡± The javelin launched from his arm like a cannon blast. He¡¯d made it invisible, so there should be no way for them to see it coming. For an instant he felt sort of guilty. That was going to do real damage, possibly lethal damage if Zilly was unlucky. He faintly heard Davi strum a warning in his song, communicating the danger faster than words. Brin could hear it, too; Davi was saying that he heard something magical activate in the Language, and since he didn¡¯t know what it was, they both needed to dodge right now. They both rolled in separate directions, and Brin¡¯s javelin exploded like an artillery shell right at Zilly¡¯s feet, missing her. He cast a spell to silence himself, and then tried again, but again they both dodged. Davi could hear the Language, even if he didn¡¯t make a sound. Well, Brin had more tricks up his sleeve. He turned and ran back towards the fire. He went over walls and crossed rooftops. He leapt across alleyways and climbed up balconies, making a mad flight across the city while treating the buildings as his own private jungle gym. When Zilly and Davi had to jump across something, he threw a javelin at them to hit them midair. When they had to climb up a garden fence to follow, he pelted them with glass bullets. They always seemed to be able to block or evade, but several times their dodge forced them to fall to the ground, giving him some more space. At a particularly winding street, the press of soldiers was too thick for him to wade through even while invisible, forcing him to turn back. This let Zilly and Davi catch up, squaring off on a wide, flat rooftop. Soldiers marched on the street below, and might¡¯ve spotted them if any of them looked up. Davi kept his oud silent and instead approached Brin with his quarterstaff in his hands, Zilly wrapping around the side. Brin lifted his spear, and they charged. The back-and-forth was quiet and intense. No one wanted to alarm the guards below, so they didn¡¯t block or parry, and instead aimed for strikes that would hit flesh instead of the other person¡¯s weapons. Brin barely kept his head from being knocked into next week by Davi¡¯s quarterstaff, and took a couple thin slashes from Zilly¡¯s shortsword. Again, this was too risky. He created a Mirror Image to give himself a distraction that lasted a fraction of a second, and used that time to start running across the rooftops again. As soon as the lines of soldiers thinned out enough that he thought he could get away with it, he leapt down from the roof and darted through them, giving himself more space between himself and his pursuers. He ran. The smoke got thicker, and the noise got louder. The conscription became more violent the further he went through the town. Crowds of angry men and women took to the streets, shouting at the soldiers and barring their path. When he got to the source of the smoke, he found that a full riot had broken out. Rare Classers and Commoners alike were clashing with soldiers in the street. He saw dead and dying citizens on the ground, and many of the soldiers had abandoned nets and truncheons in favor of swords and axes. A fire was spreading. There was an inn, one of the expensive ones, that was completely ablaze, and it was spreading fast to the surrounding buildings. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± a man shouted, and Brin realized in alarm that it was an officer from the army, pointing at him with his truncheon. How? He should be invisible! He noticed that the smoke was swirling around him in a distinct person-shape, outlining his figure. Main: Copy Light, on one of the soldiers. Not the officer! Task Manager: Activating Copy Light. Brin used his illusion magic to create a thick cloud of smoke all around him, and then let it clear when he felt the Copy Light spell settle around him. This spell would make him look just like one of the soldiers, but it wasn¡¯t perfect. Brin wasn¡¯t practiced enough with this to make the illusion follow his movements; it was static. Hopefully in the confusion it would be enough. ¡°Two Rares! That direction! A [Bard] and a [Warrior]! They¡¯re coming this way!¡± Brin pointed, and winced internally as the arm on his illusion stayed in place and his real arm poked out the side. In the smoke and darkness, it was good enough, because the entire press gang turned to face the other way just as Zilly and Davi crossed the street a block down. ¡°After them!¡± called the officer. If they really did get caught, Brin would do his best to free them later, but the two of them getting arrested would be the perfect end to this fight. For his own part, Brin kept running. The smoke had been a mistake; he¡¯d need to practice his invisibility in different conditions to make sure this type of thing didn¡¯t happen again. His path away from the press gangs took him towards the thickest of the flames; people here had completely forgotten about the impressment and everyone was working together to try to form bucket lines to contain the blaze. He heard calls for [Waterers] and [Earth Movers], and no one cared about the dark shape darting through the smoke. Until someone did. Brin ducked just in time to avoid a surprise attack that would¡¯ve scalped him, and then he heard Davi¡¯s song, urging his opponent onwards. Somehow they¡¯d caught up with him. Brin used his illusions to make the fires brighter and the smoke darker, drawing shouts of alarm from the people rushing to put the fire out. Zilly zeroed in on him regardless. Her face had streaks of sweat running lines down her soot-blackened skin and her eyes were red but locked onto his invisible form. Brin threw a blast of discordant noise into Davi¡¯s ears, disrupting his song. He jumped towards Zilly, dodged her sword rather than blocking, and kicked her in the chest. The kick landed perfectly and launched her into the burning building, straight through a wall that had been weakened by flame. Davi shouted her name, and Brin used that moment of distraction to start running again. With the Invisible Eye still watching them, he saw Zilly burst out of the burning building again, coughing and spitting mad, but they¡¯d lost his trail, giving him more time. He ran on, away from the fires. As the smoke died down, the streets became thick with soldiers. Instead of just one line, he found a place where they¡¯d made an actual barricade, with two rows of soldiers and a line of archers behind that. This was their main base, and he saw a row of new recruits for the war. They were all lying face down on the ground, some in manacles and others beaten unconscious. With the captives all together like that, Brin noticed that only about half of them were actually Rare. There were [Herbalists], [Surgeons], [Potion Mixers], and [Midwives], any Class that might have some sort of medical side to it. He also saw a few [Vagrants] in the mix, which was impressive considering the [Hunters] hadn¡¯t even been able to catch them. He couldn¡¯t go towards the encampment, obviously, and the only other way was toward the beach. Good, that was the perfect place for their final showdown. If Zilly and Davi made it through and found him again, that would probably be the best place for him to avoid watching eyes. No one would think to escape to the sea, not when the army controlled the harbor, and the beaches here weren¡¯t crowded. Rather than rush to build beach houses, the well-to-do of Frenaria thought the sea shore was a rather trashy place to live. Brin dashed onto the black sand of the beach, turned, and wasted no time setting up. He split off a conscious thread, ordering it to think about how to disguise their fight from the view of the city, and then used his main mind to start summoning projectiles. Once the glass was in place it would be a lot easier to move it if he didn¡¯t also have to summon it first. How much of his mana should he spend on this? He was already down about half of his reserves. He decided he could spend half of what was left on summoning the projectiles, and he¡¯d leave a quarter for the final fight. He got to work. Darts, spears, bullets, and javelins. Arrows, shields, and the empty shells he could use as Mirror Men. Everything and anything, all in preparation. His conscious thread came back fairly quickly. The dark ocean was a perfect backdrop; if he just put up a big screen and projected the black beach against a dark ocean, it would be nearly invisible unless someone was right on top of it. He assigned a directed thread to make the image and maintain it, then went back to creating projectiles. It took Zilly and Davi enough time to catch up that Brin started to worry that his [Battle Fury] might run out of time. He had five minutes left on the clock, and had made all the projectiles that he wanted, when the two of them finally appeared from behind the shanties that were the closest buildings to shore. No one spoke, and Davi hadn¡¯t started playing yet. For a moment, they simply stood there watching, waiting. Apparently, they wanted him to make the first move. He shrugged, and gestured with his hand and a glass spear rose into the air. At the same time, a line of ten illusory glass spears appeared alongside it. He pointed forward and launched them all forward. Sure, he¡¯d get more power if he spent some time chanting the Language, but mostly he just wanted to see what they would do. Davi stepped forward. He tossed his oud behind him, and spun his quarterstaff to shatter the only real spear, while all the others flew to either side. Zilly caught the Oud and to his surprise, began to play. She wasn¡¯t as good as Davi of course, and honestly wasn¡¯t even as good as Brin, but she carried the tune well enough for Davi to activate his magic through. The [Skald] started singing along, striking Brin square on with the emotional force. This time, Davi¡¯s song was empowering himself while at the same time singing fear and discouragement to Brin. It was an extremely complex use of power, and not something Davi could¡¯ve done a few short months ago. It seemed Davi wanted to test himself just as much as Zilly did. Brin assigned his Task Manager with launching the projectiles, because he was going to need his full concentration for this. Spears, darts, and bullets flew at Davi. He deflected many of them, and charged through the rest, ignoring the superficial wounds. Brin stepped forward, and for a moment it was just like every spar against Davi. The strength, the speed, the overwhelming experience and creativity; all of it came together and forced Brin to bring out everything he had just to stay in the fight. The song pressed against him, urging him to fail, to give up, convincing him that he was clumsy and that he was going to make a mistake. Davi landed a strike against his side that made his ribs creak. Brin retaliated fiercely, but Davi batted that away and struck him on the shin, making him want to jump on one foot from the pain. He couldn¡¯t seem to get an edge; he couldn¡¯t even imagine what it would take to win here. He roared, pushing back with his mental resistance, trying to clear the invading emotions from his mind. He swung harder, moved faster, cut quicker, and to his surprise, landed a punishing blow against Davi¡¯s block that sent the larger boy stumbling back. He was¡­ he was stronger than Davi. He was a lot stronger than Davi, especially with [Battle Fury]. Why was he so surprised? It felt like a mental block was finally falling off his brain. Somehow he¡¯d sort of begun to think of Davi being stronger as a fundamental force in this world, and now that he realized it wasn¡¯t true, all the other mental barriers were swept away. Davi had been messing with his movements. The song wasn¡¯t only saying ¡°You¡¯re going to lose¡±. It was also saying ¡°You¡¯re going to lose, but step here to delay the inevitable.¡± Now that he could pinpoint what was happening, he could ignore it. He launched into a set of strikes that made Davi move back as fast as he could walk. He feinted, then swung around to strike Davi¡¯s leg, leaving a deep gash. He stabbed, and Davi didn¡¯t parry completely out of the way, letting Brin score his shoulder. He swung around and knew his next strike would end the fight. All at once, Zilly was there, blocking his spear with a ringing strike. Whatever had each of her strikes hitting harder than the one before was still in effect, and the blow made his fingers ache through the haft of his spear. Brin sent a flurry of projectiles at them both. Zilly [Dashed] out of the way, and Davi scrambled back, grabbing his oud from where Zilly had left it in the sand. Main: Noise! Task Manager: Activating. Brin¡¯s magic created a concentrated sphere of deafening, thunderous noise in a bubble around Davi¡¯s head. He silenced it around the bubble, though, so that only Davi could hear it. It worked; since the noise wasn¡¯t interfering with Davi¡¯s music, his [Bard] magic had nothing to argue with. Brin wasn¡¯t disrupting Davi¡¯s performance, after all. Davi grimaced in pain and the music died on his lips. He fell to a knee, pressing one hand against his ear, but keeping the other on his oud. For Zilly, Brin didn¡¯t dare try to deafen her, so instead he silenced himself. Then, rather than turning invisible, he opted to blind her instead. He summoned light to shine the brightest beam of sunshine he could straight into her eyes. She snapped them shut, then put an arm over them for good measure. He activated four Mirror Men, and pushed [Shape Glass] into them to start heating up their bodies. Hopefully it would interfere with Zilly¡¯s ability to tell them apart. He ran forward with his Mirror Men, letting them come at her from the front while he stabbed at her from the back. She jumped, clearing his front-most Mirror man with a front handspring. She kicked him from behind, shattering him, and then plucked his spear from his broken hand and blocked the next Mirror Man¡¯s strike, shattering both weapons. Brin stepped forward and swiped at her from the side, but she slid underneath his spear, turned it into a roll, and plucked her sword off the ground on the way up. All of that with her eyes closed. Davi¡¯s song began to ring out. Brin checked, but no, he hadn¡¯t let off with the noise. Davi was singing through it, despite the fact that he couldn¡¯t hear himself, and his song rang out loud and clear. This time, Brin recognized the song. It was the Battle of Hammon¡¯s Bog. How dare he use that song against Brin? Out of all the music Davi could play, that one was supposed to be his. Zilly sliced at him, and he dodged. The fight became less like a fencing match and more like a game of keep-away, as Brin was forced to avoid all of her strikes. Even so, Zilly¡¯s [Dash] gave her enough maneuverability that he was forced to block, and sure enough every time he did her blows were even stronger than before. He needed to turn the tide. Davi¡¯s song was urging Zilly to greater strength; Brin was sure that if he could stop the music he¡¯d be able to win. He started to chant in the Language, picking up more of the projectiles he¡¯d prepared and filling them with power. Zilly [Kicked], trading the wild strike for another slice to her shin, but it did what she¡¯d needed it to. All the magic he¡¯d poured into the glass was wasted and it fell back into the sand. He had to try to mess up Davi¡¯s music in a more direct way. He put two sound bombs next to Zilly¡¯s ears and made them explode. The resulting bang was so loud it made his own ears ring, but Zilly just shook it off and jumped at him again. Unfair. Shouldn¡¯t high-perception types be weaker against that type of thing? He¡¯d have to ask her how she resisted that once this was over, but whatever the case it was clear that Davi¡¯s music was still empowering her. He started adding to the music instead. He added a drumbeat, and a bassline. Davi didn¡¯t notice. Of course he didn¡¯t, he couldn''t hear. Subtly, the music started turning Brin¡¯s way, empowering him as well. And it should. This was his song! Brin grinned and then added some ferocious dubstep beats to the music, and Davi kept on playing as if nothing was happening. Now that Brin was part of the song, he was part of the emotional power and he could redirect it to a small degree. He¡¯d practiced this with Davi a bunch of times. He tried to wrest control of the song away from Davi, but it was like trying to redirect a river with paper straw. He got a little, but not enough. Arise ye Bogland men, go to! I press ahead with comrades true, I shall not dodge nor shift mine stance, With friends beside me I advance. Despite the lack of purchase Brin kept straining against it anyway. But when Davi got to the end of the verse, he suddenly felt a huge shift in power. When Davi was singing, he had impregnable control. But when he got to the part of the song with no lyrics, suddenly there was an opening. Brin kept the bassline intact, but then only added the dubstep sounds because electronic-sounding music was much easier to create on the fly. When Brin had partial control of the song, he turned the music against Zilly, and struck out at her with his spear. The vibration from the strike ran through her entire body, forcing her to a knee. Success. The Skill that was making every strike stronger than the last was Davi¡¯s Skill; he could give someone that ability through song. And when Brin took control of the song, even if only for a moment, it reset the counter. They raged back and forth. When Davi sang, Zilly grew stronger and stronger. When the singing paused, Brin took her back down to the baseline. They were both tiring, but Zilly was getting worse. Even when she was empowered, her swings started to get sloppy. She stopped using [Dash], [Kick], and [Overload], probably finally out of Mana. Brin was dangerously low on Mana as well. He didn¡¯t have enough to shoot damaging projectiles, so he pivoted to something else. Every time he got the chance, he scooped a bullet or javelin up off the ground, put just enough Mana into it to make it sticky, and then threw it onto Zilly¡¯s clothes where it latched in place. It wasn¡¯t tying her down, but it had to be heavy. The song ended. Brin shot a glance to Davi, but he was still standing strong, a look of annoyance on his face. He strummed, and then started to play again. A different song. ¡°And these were the lives and times of the patriarchs of Fellgrande. Anat begat Wushel who reigned for eighty years. He in turn begat Marsha who reigned for twenty-four¡­¡± The litany of names and dates could barely be considered a song, but there was no pause and no instrumental breaks. There would be no more chances for Brin to take control of the music again. Brin sighed, and determined to do the one thing he hadn¡¯t tried yet. Hadn¡¯t Rhun already shown him how to beat Zilly? He should¡¯ve thought of this first. He dropped his spear, ran forward, and tackled Zilly to the ground. She¡¯d been confident, noticing at the same time that Davi¡¯s song had lost its flaw and was moving forward when Brin hit her. She drove her sword deep into his back as they fell, but they landed hard and it flew from her grip. He wasn¡¯t a proficient wrestler by any means, but she was more tired than he was, and he had another advantage on her. Brin pushed every last ounce of glass magic he could into the glass he¡¯d attached from her, binding her in place. It was dumb luck that he found a discarded blade of glass within reaching distance. He picked it up and pressed it to the skin on her throat. ¡°Surrender.¡± She stopped struggling. The music stopped. Zilly¡¯s face was pale as she looked up at him with wide eyes. She wasn¡¯t red-faced or angry this time. All he saw in her features was the same exhaustion he felt himself, with an extra helping of despair. Something whacked him hard on the top of the head. ¡°Bonk,¡± said Davi, holding his quarterstaff. ¡°Ow! Wait! Shoot! I totally forgot about you! Does that mean this is a draw?¡± Davi put his finger in his ear. ¡°What?¡± Right, he¡¯d been shooting deafening noise straight into Davi¡¯s ears for several minutes now. The hearing loss wouldn¡¯t be permanent; another benefit of high Vitality. He got off Zilly, thought about standing up, and then rolled to the side onto his back. He was so tired, too tired to even do something about the blood oozing from his back into the sand. Hopefully [Scarred, but Healing] would take care of it? ¡°I said, is it a tie?¡± Brin said, mouthing each word carefully. Davi shook his head, still not understanding. ¡°No. It¡¯s your win. You had a knife to my throat. Davi never would¡¯ve hit you if he actually thought you¡¯d do it,¡± Zilly said numbly. Congratulations! You have earned a new Achievement! Menace You have fought a duel to the bitter end in a time of great civil unrest, while flouting all laws and authorities. You have greater resistance to wide-range mental manipulation. City Skills are less effective on you, should you choose to resist. You have an increased ability to detect when you are being affected by a City Skill. Strange that the Achievement didn¡¯t say whether he had won or lost. Did Zilly and Davi get the same Achievement? He thought they did from the way that their eyes were scanning the empty air. Did they notice that it didn¡¯t say who had won? He rather hoped that their Achievement did tell them that they¡¯d won. He¡¯d gone all out because it would¡¯ve been an insult to do otherwise, but he had the fear that they needed to have won this duel if the three of them were going to be friends in the future. Jeffrey arrived, putting a hand on Davi¡¯s shoulder. ¡°What a beautiful sound. Alas, we¡¯ll need to leave now if we¡¯re to avoid the recruitment. When that riot is contained, they¡¯ll be able to bring their full force to bear in picking up any stragglers. We¡¯ll need to be gone before then.¡± Davi looked down at Brin, looking embarrassed. ¡°I can¡¯t join the army. I can¡¯t do that to my parents.¡± ¡°I know,¡± said Brin. ¡°Get out of here.¡± ¡°Just promise me you¡¯ll still remember us little people when you¡¯re out there making it big,¡± Davi said with false cheer. ¡°I¡¯m already big,¡± said Brin. ¡°I guess you are.¡± Hogg arrived next, and started bandaging Zilly¡¯s wounds. She shrugged him off, wearily scooped her sword off the ground, and then trudged away from the beach. Only when she got to the street did she pause, as if she¡¯d forgotten something. ¡°Goodbye, Brin.¡± Brin tried to think of something to say. He had too much to say, and couldn''t get any of it out. By the time he figured out how to start, Zilly was already gone. He followed her with an Invisible Eye, watching as she went back to the barricade and turned herself in. Since she volunteered, they didn¡¯t give her a beating, put her in manacles, or even take away her sword. But she still ended up face down on the ground with the rest of the recruits. ¡°Roll over,¡± Hogg said. ¡°I need to seal that wound on your back, and I¡¯m not using a Healing potion for this. Then we should get out of here. Unless of course you were thinking of joining Zilly?¡± ¡°No,¡± Brin answered. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 14 Hogg and Brin took their time getting home. The city was chaotic, with rows of soldiers stomping down the streets and scattering the rioters who spread throughout the city to escape them. Brin might¡¯ve moved quicker alone, but Hogg couldn¡¯t go invisible anymore and there was no reason to take any unnecessary risks, so they went the long way around the press gangs that Brin spotted with his Invisible Eyes. The most exciting part of the journey, honestly, was watching the Wogan estate. The press gangs did actually end up invading the house, and while they were mostly polite and didn¡¯t break anything, they insisted on searching the entire mansion, room by room. Sion seemed bored by the entire thing, but Glyn was visibly furious, showing none of the over-friendliness that Brin knew him for. Rhun was hidden in a secret compartment underneath the cellar, but then he nearly spoiled the whole thing by leaving three times. Twice to use the restroom, and then once because he wanted a glass of water. It looked like he wouldn¡¯t outright break his contract with the Wogans, but he obviously wouldn¡¯t mind ¡°accidentally¡± getting drafted. After the third time, the [Steward] locked him in place and then covered the trap door with spilt flour, just moments before the soldiers searched the cellar. It was a strange echo from his past, seeing someone else using flour to hide from soldiers in a cellar. The journey through the chaotic, rioting city went as well as such a thing could, and Hogg and Brin didn¡¯t run into any real trouble until they were back at their house. A single man in Frenaria blues stood outside the front door, waiting. He didn¡¯t carry any weapons, not even a truncheon, but he stood in front of their door, waiting, and he didn¡¯t seem keen on leaving. With his back to them, Brin and Hogg didn¡¯t even need to hide, and only used a spell to block sound to conceal themselves. ¡°I¡¯ve sent Invisible Eyes through all the buildings nearby. Nobody else is around. And he isn¡¯t holding an Eveladis,¡± said Brin. ¡°Seems that way,¡± agreed Hogg. ¡°Do you think we could sneak around him and enter from the back?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Easily,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Should we?¡± Hogg shrugged. ¡°What¡¯s his Class? His [Hide Status] is too good for my [Inspect] to pierce,¡± said Brin. ¡°[Herald],¡± answered Hogg. Brin swore. [Heralds] were not exactly big fans of his. ¡°Are [Heralds] really strong?¡± ¡°Not particularly. Mostly they¡¯re fast.¡± What was this guy¡¯s deal? If he meant to draft them, why had he shown up alone? Brin started thinking out loud, ¡°He wouldn¡¯t mess with me, not with Lumina protecting me, and there¡¯s little chance he doesn¡¯t know about that. A random officer in the army might have plausible deniability, but not a [Herald]. He must be here for you. I bet it¡¯s because they know that you¡¯re a [Mage]. They probably figure that if they can¡¯t get you willingly, then they won¡¯t be able to get you at all.¡± ¡°They could at least try!¡± Hogg said angrily. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Look at him. Just one guy? Who does he think he is?¡± ¡°Wait. You¡¯re mad they¡¯re not trying harder to take you in?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a little insulting, is all. If you gave me an entire army to draw from, I bet I could put together a team of around a dozen level 30s that would have a pretty good job at capturing a level 60 [Mage]. One that isn¡¯t me, at least. The fact that they just sent one guy is a slap in the face. What kind of two-bit hedge [Mage] do they think I am?¡± ¡°So you are level sixty! Seriously, it¡¯s so weird to hear you talk about yourself like this. It¡¯s like you have no filter now that you¡¯re a [Mage]. Next you¡¯re going to tell me your last name!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t count on it,¡± said Hogg with a deep frown. ¡°So what are we doing about this?¡± asked Brin, pointing at the [Herald]. ¡°You can do whatever you want,¡± Hogg grumped. When Brin looked over, he had already disappeared, which was pretty impressive since he couldn¡¯t do invisibility anymore. Clearly, Hogg felt the need to reclaim some of his dark and mysterious persona. Brin thought about it a little longer, and then shrugged. He was probably safe, so why not just talk to the man? He dismissed the spell blocking sound, and then stepped forward. The [Herald] was humming a tune. They call me Kukubaru because I eat the [Herald¡¯s] words¡­ Brin cleared his throat and said, ¡°I feel like I recognize that tune from somewhere.¡± The [Herald] turned around, showing no sign that he was surprised by Brin¡¯s arrival. ¡°Master Mistaken, I presume?¡± Technically, it was Master the Mistaken, but Brin didn¡¯t correct him. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± He pulled a letter from his overcoat and held it out for Brin with both hands. ¡°Please present this to your father at your earliest convenience.¡± The letter was heavier than he expected, made of some kind of paper that was as dense as gold. The envelope was blank, except for the words ¡°[Mage] Hogg¡± written in fine calligraphy. Brin nodded. ¡°I will.¡± The [Herald] nodded and turned to go, but then hesitated and stayed in place. ¡°Come to think of it, I believe I found something that may belong to you.¡± He produced another letter from his overcoat, this one smudged and bent from a long journey. He handed it over more casually, so that Brin had to reach to snatch it out of pinched fingers. This letter had ¡°Brin isu Yambul¡± written across the front in much more blocky, rigid lettering. The return address listed Galan, of all people. The fact that this was in the [Herald¡¯s] hands meant that Lumina hadn¡¯t been paranoid when she¡¯d told them that people would be intercepting their mail. He turned it over and saw that nothing had broken the seal, but that didn¡¯t mean anything. ¡°That will be all,¡± said the [Herald]. He turned and left again. He walked much more slowly than Brin knew a [Herald] could, and started whistling the Kukubaru song again. Awkward. Brin rushed inside the house and found Hogg already at his favorite chair. ¡°Letter for you,¡± he said, and then immediately tore open the letter from Galan and read it out loud. In the letter, Galan invited Brin to join the Order of the Long Sleep, and then in a turn that immediately got Brin¡¯s pulse racing, mentioned a [Knight] who also had the experience of waking up surrounded by undead with no memories. That had to be him, the spy. Arcaena¡¯s [Paladin]. ¡°Are you thinking what I¡¯m thinking?¡± ¡°About joining the Order of the Long Sleep? Could be fun. Let¡¯s wait and see what Lumina thinks,¡± said Hogg. ¡°No! The other thing. Have you ever heard of this Order of the Golden Ivory?¡± ¡°No,¡± said Hogg. ¡°But I don¡¯t know many of the smaller Orders outside Frenaria." ¡°Come on. This guy has got to be¨C¡± Hogg shushed him. ¡°I know. Best not to discuss it.¡± ¡°Even here? Do you really think there¡¯s someone who can listen in past all the defenses you set up?¡± ¡°We shouldn''t risk it,¡± said Hogg. He used a black hand of hard light to grab the other letter from Brin¡¯s hands, open it, and carry it through the air so that he could read it without having to stand up or put his drink down. Somehow, the tea in his cup was already hot and steaming. He read out loud, ¡°In salutation and greeting to the one known as Hogg, the great and esteemed master of the mystical and arcane, a [Mage] in the Kingdom of Frenaria, blah blah blah¡­ We greet thee on behalf of the King of Frenaria, namely King Lancarote Blah blah blah¡­ In accordance with the laws of Frenaria, in common consent and in full agreement of courtesy and good sense do we invite thee to¡­ ok this is the main point here. We invite thee to present thyself to the Academy of Frenaria at the Great First Tower of Frenaria in Steamshield. So it¡¯s about like we expected.¡± ¡°So not the war, but the tower?¡± asked Brin. ¡°I thought Lumina said the Tower was too dangerous for us right now.¡± ¡°Too dangerous for you.¡± Hogg folded up the letter and shoved it in a pocket. ¡°We don¡¯t have to bother with this now. Let¡¯s wait and see what Lumina says.¡± ¡°That¡¯s an official summons! Won¡¯t you get in trouble for ignoring it?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Nothing says I have to leave right now. Besides, time¡¯s wasting. We should spend this time working on [Split Focus],¡± said Hogg. ¡°Is your [Meditation] up to 20 yet?¡± ¡°Not quite,¡± said Brin. ¡°Then get to work!¡± Brin was honestly thankful for the distraction. There was no way he was getting to sleep tonight, and the last thing he wanted was to dwell on the fact that his friends were gone. The way he had left things left him sick at heart. Should he have given them a better farewell? But the sorrow was matched with equal parts anger. He had given them an excellent good-bye, where they¡¯d all made a toast and promised to still be friends when they reunited. It was their idea to screw all that up by springing the ill-advised ambush on him.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The sudden realization that soon he¡¯d be losing Hogg as well made it too much to handle. He needed a distraction. So he meditated. The exercises Hogg had given him were sort of strange. For some of them, it was obvious what this had to do with [Split Focus]. Brin would throw and catch a ball with one hand, while bouncing another ball on the floor. Or he¡¯d think about walking east while at the same time think about swimming west. For that one, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was really splitting his focus because he just imagined looking at a screen where the top half showed him walking while the bottom half showed him swimming, but Hogg said that was good enough. Other exercises were more strange. In one he was supposed to imagine reciting the history of Frenaria while at the same time running through an endless maze. In another, he had to [Meditate] while sketching random objects around the house with his left hand. Just using [Meditation] while doing something other than holding perfectly still would¡¯ve been impossible on his first go-around, but he had enough experience with the Skill that he managed to keep it activated even though it wasn¡¯t high-leveled enough to do any heavy lifting. In two more hours of practice, the System interrupted him. You have leveled up Meditation. 17 -> 18 Hogg snapped shut the book he¡¯d been reading. ¡°Alright, good enough.¡± Brin shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had risen up over two hours of concentration. ¡°What?¡± ¡°The 20 [Meditation] thing is a guideline more than a rule. Go get some sleep. We¡¯ll start on [Split Focus] training first thing in the morning,¡± said Hogg. Brin didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be able to sleep with all the worries running around in his head, but when he stood up a wave of fatigue threatened to pull him back down. By the time he made it to his room he was already closing his eyes, and he barely felt the mattress underneath him before he fell asleep. He woke to the sound of eggs popping on the frying pan in the kitchen¨CHogg always used too much grease. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled into the dining room and sat down. Marksi chirped at him, but Brin was too groggy to even look in that direction. He summoned some random shapes of light for the dragonling to eat, and from Marksi¡¯s satisfied squeaks, he¡¯d guessed correctly. Hogg soon entered the room and put a plate of eggs and toast in front of Brin, along with a glass of yoghurt. The yoghurt was fish-flavored, which was a Blackcliff thing, but it had the effect of waking him up. The eggs and toast he saved for last, hoping they¡¯d remove any memory of the flavor of that yoghurt from his mouth. Hogg took a long, slow, and loud sip of his morning tea. Since he usually had excellent table manners, he was doing this to be annoying. Brin sighed. "Alright. Let''s talk about [Split Focus].¡± ¡°You sure? I mean, a master of magic is offering to teach you one of the most important secrets of your Class, but don¡¯t let that hurry you. Take all the time you need.¡± Brin could admit he might be moving a little slowly this morning, so he shrugged off Hogg¡¯s attitude. ¡°Let¡¯s start. How can I use [Split Focus] like you do? You implied it should be possible even though I have [Multithreading]." "It is," said Hogg. "[Multithreading] is an advanced version of [Split Focus] so it can do anything the original Skill can do. The reason I know it''s possible is because there are people who can split their focus without even having the Skill. But let''s back up a minute. What do you know about brain damage?" "Is that a burn? Because if so, it was too subtle," said Brin. ¡°I had a pretty big day yesterday and¨C¡± "It wasn''t a burn. Since I am an adult, I am having an adult conversation." Brin snorted and answered the first question. "Brain damage is really bad. Small injuries can suddenly come back to bite you as an adult, and in battle pretty much anything that pierces your skull will kill you." Hogg blinked in surprise. "What? That''s not true! Plenty of people survive head injuries. The weird part of head injuries is how uneven they are. One guy will take an arrow to the head and drop dead immediately. Another guy will have half his head blown off with an [Earthmover''s] stone, but then go on to live a long and happy life with no obvious consequences. I¡¯ve heard of a guy who had a brain-eating parasite that took 90% of his brain and he never noticed. I personally knew a [Warrior] who lost an apple-sized chunk of his brain to a barbed arrow. After a few weeks he was back on his feet, none the worse for wear, though he still ended up paying a [Physician] to grow back the missing part.¡± "Whoa. Hold up. [Physicians] can regrow your brain?" asked Brin. "Some can, just like your skin, hair, and bones. Complicated organs can''t be grown, but if it''s just tissue they can take a sample, grow it up in a vat, and then patch it in again where it''s missing." "That''s insane. I''ve never heard of this," said Brin. "Sure you have. You know that [Beauticians] can grow hair, right?" "That''s different. They can make hair longer; they can''t cure baldness," said Brin. "We''re getting side-tracked. They can take something on your body and make more of it. Well, they do the same with brains. Take a little glob of it, grow it into a long sheet, and then scrunch it up and stick it in the hole. Brain damage fixed." That sounded like a lobotomy, and if Brin remembered correctly, the people that got those never recovered. ¡°Nothing about that sounds ¡®fixed¡¯! Sounds like that person would have a permanent mental disability that even a [Mind Healer] couldn¡¯t heal! I¡¯ve heard of people surviving brain injuries, but they usually end up with some weird side-effect, like losing their sense of smell or paralysis in half of their body.¡± ¡°Sure, but that goes away on its own,¡± said Hogg. Brin groaned and put his head down on the table. This was another one of those things where he wasn¡¯t used to the effect of high Vitality on the human body. People could survive wounds that would¡¯ve killed anyone in his old world, and apparently that meant that even head injuries healed themselves at a much faster rate. He refused to believe that this world¡¯s medicine was anything close to as good as his old world. Instead, they probably just used their high Vitality to get away with all sorts of barbaric methods that would¡¯ve killed anyone back on Earth. ¡°No more world-shattering revelations before breakfast,¡± said Brin. Hogg smiled and took a bite of his eggs. ¡°Technically this is during breakfast. And it¡¯s not my fault you come from a world of robot-loving barbarians. I can¡¯t be expected to know what kinds of ordinary things from everyday life will offend your provincial sensibilities.¡± Brin scowled. ¡°We were insanely advanced compared to this world. We knew a lot about the brain, too. I remember a machine that could tell what part of your brain was being used for which tasks. Like, this front part will light up if you¡¯re thinking about a math problem, and the sides will light up if you¡¯re thinking about getting stung by a bee.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound right,¡± said Hogg, shaking his head. ¡°The one thing we¡¯ve found with brain injuries is that it doesn¡¯t always matter what part of the brain gets squished; the rest of your brain will readjust and fill in. If the left side gets demolished, the right side of your brain will figure out how to make up the difference. Or vice versa. But what happens if your brain gets cut in half, right down the middle, but both sides stay alive and in your body?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Brin. ¡°But probably nothing, from what you¡¯ve been telling me so far.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, nothing will happen. Your two halves will find some other way of syncing up, like with the sound of your voice or the feel of your body. But what if we put half of your brain to sleep, and let the other half control your entire body? Then when night comes we switch which one is asleep and which one is awake. We go for a month like that. By the end of the month, the two halves of your brains are starting to diverge. You¡¯re starting to have two separate personalities, and neither of them really know for sure what the other one was up to during the day. Then, after a month, we reconnect them.¡± ¡°That sounds awful,¡± said Brin. ¡°If that really happened to someone, I¡¯d be surprised if they didn¡¯t go completely mad. But that¡¯s basically what¡¯s happening with [Split Focus], isn¡¯t it?¡± Hogg snapped and pointed at Brin. ¡°Exactly. [Split Focus] isn¡¯t just a Skill for splitting your mind. If it was just that, we¡¯d never take it. [Split Focus] is a Skill that protects you from going insane after splitting your mind. [Multithreading] should do the same.¡± ¡°That sounds totally fine and normal,¡± said Brin. ¡°It¡¯s neither of those things,¡± said Hogg. ¡°It¡¯s a difficult and dangerous process that most [Illusionists] take years to master, if they end up figuring it out at all. Luckily for you, you know someone who can speed that along. I learned this method by stealing a book that had been loaned out from a library in the Tower, so before we go forward, I need you to understand that this isn¡¯t the kind of thing you should blab about to everyone you meet,¡± said Hogg. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll keep it a secret,¡± said Brin. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for a promise, so long as you understand,¡± said Hogg. ¡°I understand.¡± ¡°Good. In that case, this technique has two parts. Those meditation exercises will all come together and if you do it right, you¡¯ll separate your right and left hemispheres and functionally split your consciousness in half.¡± Brin hurried to take the last few bites of his breakfast before he forgot about it and then said, ¡°I figured it would be something like that. But I have no idea how to even start.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk with your mouth full, that¡¯s gross. And that leads me to the other step.¡± Hogg withdrew a small green potion from his jacket pocket. It looked as thick as mashed potatoes and wholly unpleasant. ¡°To be taken on a full stomach.¡± Brin took the potion and pulled off the lid. He was immediately struck by the stench; it was like rotting meat drenched in gasoline. ¡°What¡¯s it do?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll split your mind in half. Then once you have a feel for it, it¡¯ll be a lot easier to understand how all those [Meditation] exercises come together and you¡¯ll be able to do it again. For someone without [Split Focus] this would be enough to drive you mad, but I wouldn¡¯t say it¡¯s effective as a poison. No one in their right mind would drink something that smells like that,¡± said Hogg. Brin grimaced and then before he could think about it, downed the potion. ¡°Oh no. Oh, man, oh no, Sancta Solia! It tastes worse than it smells. It¡¯s like menthol, but instead of mint it¡¯s acidic, and blegh, it¡¯s filmy! It makes me want to scrape my tongue off. Give me a glass of water or something, I need¡­ oh no.¡± The bad taste in his mouth fled, but in it¡¯s place was a bad feeling in his body. He felt¡­ strange. It wasn¡¯t pain, it was strange, but it was such a high-pitched intense strangeness that he thought any amount of pain would be preferable. His whole body was wrong; like the pins and needles feeling of his foot falling asleep through his entire body, but also disorienting like watching his hand go numb and start moving in a way he couldn¡¯t feel. He stood, but everything was awkward, none of his limbs moved the way they should and he fell to the ground. Marksi scampered over to see what was wrong, but Brin didn¡¯t want him to see him like this. He tried to brush him away, but his arms flailed wildly rather than doing what they were told. Even his mind felt wrong. It had worked, he realized with growing horror. There were two of him in here. It was loud; it was so loud. He could hear the other him thinking; that wasn¡¯t him, it was another foreign entity inside his own body, and yet it was him. He was terrified of that other mind, and he could feel its own extreme fear as well. It would do anything it could to stop this, even if that meant reaching over and snuffing him, the real him, out like a candle. No, which was the real Brin? He didn¡¯t know. ¡°I hate this. I hate it. Make it stop!¡± Brin said. He could talk; that meant he was the real Brin, right? He could hear the other one thinking, and he could feel the trapped feeling of wanting to scream and not being able to. In mortified fascination, he gave the other one permission to use his mouth, and it said, ¡°No! It¡¯s me! Don¡¯t let him do what he¡¯s thinking of doing. I¡¯m me! Get him out!¡± Hogg knelt down next to him and caught his flailing arms. ¡°Sh, calm down, it¡¯ll pass. This is normal. This is what we were going for, remember? You¡¯re both you, just remember that. Breathe. Try to stay calm.¡± Brin focused on his breathing, but it was hard since the other one had partial control of his lungs as well. They had to work together to synchronize, but he didn¡¯t want to. He wanted that thing out of his brain! After a few seconds of panicked gasping, his vision started to go dark and he changed his tune. Breathe. We can work together and breathe. We don¡¯t want to share, but we don¡¯t want to die. Breathe, and then we¡¯ll figure this out. Brin breathed. In and out. Again, and again. The temptation came up to think about something else, but he squished it down. As long as the other him was doing the same, he¡¯d cooperate and just focus on breathing. [Meditation] was a lifesaver, and he felt the other one slip into it as well. Like this, they didn¡¯t have to fight. They could just breathe. Gradually, Brin¡¯s other mind seemed to grow quieter. In the silence of [Meditation] where all they thought of was the necessity of keeping their breathing going, it became harder and harder to tell them apart. Eventually, Brin realized that he was completely alone in his own head again. Through training, you have increased the following attribute: Mental Control +5 ¡°I never want to do that again.¡± ¡°That¡¯s too bad,¡± Hogg said. ¡°Because the next step is learning to do that on your own.¡± Merry Christmas
Marksi would like you and all your loved ones a very wonderful Christmas. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Unfortunately, I wasn''t able to write a chapter for today. I still plan on having one ready for Friday, and we''ll continue next week like normal. Book 4 - Chapter 15 Brin decided he needed some fresh air, but when he tried the door it wouldn¡¯t budge, no doubt due to a careful application of hard light in the locking mechanism. ¡°You¡¯re not running away from this,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Who¡¯s running away?¡± Brin asked. ¡°I just want to stretch my legs, get some fresh air, and then we¡¯ll be right back to this super interesting training you dredged up from the bottom of the lowest hell.¡± ¡°You might think you need some time to recover, but what you really need is to try again while the memory is still fresh in your mind,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Otherwise we¡¯ll have to waste another potion.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have to do that! I just realized that [Multithreading] already works for everything I need it for. No need to split my brain any more.¡± Brin shook the door again, but it really wasn¡¯t budging. Should he try a window? ¡°You¡¯re more right about that than you know, but that¡¯s besides the point. Will you¡­ Will you stop that and listen to me?¡± Hogg summoned a giant orange hand to pluck Brin out of the air as he made a running dive for a window and sat him down in front of his reclining chair. ¡°Listen, just think back to what it felt like. Do you even remember which one was you?¡± ¡°What a stupid question. I was the¡­¡± Brin trailed off. He actually didn¡¯t remember. It felt like it was extremely clear that he was one half of the mind, and that there was an invader in there with him, but thinking back he could remember both sides with perfect clarity. For some reason, that thought calmed him down enough that he could sit without his body screaming at him that he should run. Knowledge was often the antidote to fear, and now he knew that the only thing in his mind had been him. Another version of him, at least. In [Multithreading] he¡¯d never really gone through this because he wasn¡¯t actually thinking with two minds at once; it was the same mind switching back and forth between different streams of thought so quickly that it felt seamless. But it was still just one mind. With [Split Focus] there were two minds in his head, and he could feel it. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m cut out for this,¡± said Brin. ¡°You did pretty well your first time. Lots of [Illusionists] crap their pants, so at least we were spared that.¡± Brin laughed. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Go on. Give it another shot. It won¡¯t be so bad this time,¡± said Hogg. ¡°How?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think about that. Just do it.¡± Brin tried, thinking back to the way it had felt to split his mind. He shuddered, and his stomach churned, but he concentrated. In a strange way, it really did remind him of all those [Meditation] exercises. Each of them had a little part of the experience, and when he put them together¡­ It was back. That horrible thing in his mind was back. Why couldn¡¯t it leave him alone? To make matters worse, it was thinking the same thing about him, which was outrageous. His anger only grew when he felt the other one was also upset for the same reason. How dare he? He tried to stand up, needing to know that he was still in control of his body, but Hogg¡¯s hard light held him in place. Brin struggled, growing more claustrophobic by the second. Hogg said, ¡°You¡¯re split? Ok, stop whatever you¡¯re thinking right now and [Meditate].¡± ¡°How can you say that? He¡¯s trying to¨C¡± ¡°No one likes a tattle-tale,¡± said Hogg. ¡°[Meditate]. Now. Both of you.¡± Through supreme force of will, Brin forced himself to relax the growing anger and paranoia and begin calming his mind. It was only possible when he felt the other one starting to do the same. He¡¯d relent a little, and the other side would do the same, until he finally slipped into the peace of [Meditation].¡± Hogg nodded. ¡°Good. Now you¡¯ll notice, there¡¯s two things happening here. One is the weird feeling of having something else in your head, and the other is the terrible experience of thinking with a brain that¡¯s only half as big as it used to be. It¡¯s hard to really pin down what you¡¯re losing when you do this. In [Multithreading], all you lose is time. With [Split Focus] you¡¯re losing a million little things. Complexity of thought, creativity, your ability to learn new things, and memory are all worse off, to a degree that¡¯s difficult to define.¡± Brin thought it was more than that. It was like his entire body was foreign and he had to learn to use it again from scratch. And that was if the other one would even let him use his body; no doubt it would try to sabotage him if he wanted to do so much as stand up. What else had he lost. Was he really dumber now? It was hard to say. He knew he felt different, but didn¡¯t think he could pin down exactly what that difference was. All he knew for sure was that he hated it. Even if he couldn¡¯t say exactly what was different, he knew that it was bad. He felt worse, that was for sure. He could tell without looking that the other one felt the same way. It was disturbing, because he always knew what the other one was thinking, even when he didn¡¯t want to. As he paid more attention to his other half¡¯s thoughts, he started to echo them. They were both him, after all, and they were both going through the same thing, so it was natural that their thoughts would be similar. He felt a sudden wave of disorientation, and then realized that he¡¯d dropped out of [Split Focus]. ¡°You¡¯re right. It wasn¡¯t as bad that time. I fell out of it by accident, though, once I started paying attention to my other half¡¯s thoughts,¡± said Brin. ¡°Being able to sense what your other parts are doing and thinking is more of a detriment than a bonus. The purpose of [Split Focus] is to do two things at once, not to have two minds thinking about the same thing. You¡¯re lucky that [Multithreading] gave you that one for free,¡± said Hogg. Now that he¡¯d done it twice, the idea of using [Split Mind] didn¡¯t seem so frightening. Once again, his memories showed him that he was both minds, so he really didn¡¯t have anything to be afraid of. Obviously he¡¯d already known that, but it was harder to remember in the moment. Brin tried again, and this time he tried to convince the other half to let him have control of his body so he could practice walking around. Even though his other half had understood what they were doing, giving up that much control had given him an instinctual spike of panic that knocked them both out of [Split Focus] again.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He tried again, and this time was able to stand and walk back and forth across the room. Then, while his other half looked on, he said, ¡°Look at me! I¡¯m finally able to do something I¡¯ve been able to do with [Multithreading] since the beginning. Wow, it really was the better Skill.¡± ¡°Messing up your sense of time is a pretty big drawback, at least in combat. Ideally, you¡¯ll be able to use a bit of both,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Now I want you to try something else. How many can you do?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Brin said, and let [Split Focus] collapse. Thinking with his regular brain, he asked, ¡°How many can you do?¡± ¡°Lots,¡± said Hogg. ¡°Start with three, and then keep going until something feels different.¡± Brin did. Splitting into three happened with the same instinctual ease that two had; he just thought about what he wanted and it was like his mind knew what to do. He let that fall and then separated into four. Then five. He expected splitting into so many pieces to feel worse than just two, but oddly it was a bit better. His mind was¡­ simpler when he was split into five. It was quieter, and so limited that it didn¡¯t occur to him to bother with something like existential dread. He figured he could still do simple tasks like reading off a spell he¡¯d stored in [Memories in Glass] or moving his body, but he couldn¡¯t really think about anything too complicated. It was sort of suffocating, and he didn¡¯t think he would ever like doing it, but it was a good ability to have. When he tried for six, he felt a bit of strain, like his brain was resisting the idea of spreading itself that thin. ¡°Six feels like it would be kind of hard. Should I push through it?¡± Brin asked. ¡°No!¡± Hogg shouted, suddenly on his feet. He sat again, rubbing his face. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°Strangely fine. Seems like rearranging my brain over and over should stress it out and at least give me a headache, but I don¡¯t feel any of that. As soon as it¡¯s over I¡¯m back to normal.¡± ¡°That¡¯s [Multithreading] at work. It¡¯s protecting your sanity, just like [Split Focus] would. But it isn¡¯t foolproof; split yourself into too many pieces, and even the Skill won¡¯t be able to protect your mind. You¡¯ll be able to feel your own limit. Right now it¡¯s five. Remember that feeling. You¡¯ll be able to do more as your Mental Control goes up, but you should never go above your limit. This isn¡¯t like working your muscles with Davi. Pushing yourself only leads to brain damage.¡± ¡°Got it,¡± Brin said. ¡°Five is more than enough. Honestly, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever need to go past two, since [Multithreading] doesn¡¯t really have a limit. I could split myself into a hundred if I didn¡¯t mind living an hour in what feels like a minute.¡± ¡°Good. You¡¯re able to split into equal parts, but what happens if you split off a smaller portion? Try for a quarter of your brain,¡± said Hogg. The training continued, and Hogg put him through one exercise after another. He learned how to pick which sections of his physical brain would be separated off into which split minds. He eventually made peace with himself enough that he could pick which mind was in charge, and he learned how to give full control of his body to the mind that was in charge by default, rather than having to renegotiate every single time. Even though he still hated the way [Split Focus] felt, by the end of the day he¡¯d grown familiar enough with it that it no longer churned his guts every time he turned it on. They continued training through the rest of the week. A lot of Hogg¡¯s focus was on making Brin relearn how to fight while splitting his mind in half. It was awkward at first, but after an hour or two of training, he figured he was as good with [Split Focus] as he was without it, but that didn¡¯t stop Hogg. He seemed to want to cram every bit of knowledge and skill that he¡¯d learned over a lifetime into Brin in the one week. Fighting with illusions was completely different than the sparring that Brin had learned up until now. In a regular fight, he had to keep his limbs pretty near the center so that he¡¯d be able to react quickly from a strike coming from any direction. When illusions disguised his movements, he could now focus on getting the maximum power out of every blow without needing to worry about telegraphing his strikes. Hogg made him practice a perfect two-handed block, which he could disguise as a weak, last-second parry. He practiced leaping into the air for a titanic downward strike, which he could disguise as a simple swipe. It was difficult to synchronize his mirror images perfectly with his actual body, so Hogg drilled him on every movement again and again. When done correctly, he¡¯d be able to make people think that he was a whole lot stronger than he actually was. Near the beginning of the lessons, he thought to ask, ¡°How often will I bother with the Mirror Image? Seems like if an enemy is really that dangerous, I¡¯d be better off ambushing them with full invisibility. Yeah, they''ll know an [Illusionist] is trying to kill them, but there''s no guarantee that they''ll be able to figure out it''s me." Hogg grinned as if he''d been expecting the question. "Think about your fight with Zilly. Why did you do better against Rhun with just the Shadow Blade, but then you struggled against Zilly when you were fully invisible?" Brin gave the obvious answer, "Because Zilly is stronger? And she has other senses she can use." "Ok, but if you remember, that''s not actually how she did it. She just swung her sword around randomly as fast as she could and hit you twice." Brin opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. Was that how it had happened? In the heat of the moment he hadn''t really thought of it that way, but Hogg could be right. Hogg continued. "The last thing you want as an [Illusionist] is an unpredictable opponent, and the last last thing you want is to fight someone who knows what they''re fighting against. That''s why your Shadow Blade is better. They think they can see your blade, but they''re wrong. That makes them more vulnerable than someone who knows they can''t see you." Because they practiced Hogg¡¯s fighting style, he earned more Dexterity than Strength. Through Training, you have increased the following attributes: Strength +1 Dexterity +3 While resting his body from the strict physical training, Brin learned a hundred different tips and tricks about illusions. How to make more realistic mirror images, how to pick out and copy a person¡¯s mannerisms, and how to mimic their speech. Things to remember when using an illusion in different environments like walking on grass or splashing in puddles. Hogg had a huge wealth of tips and shortcuts, and Brin was finally able to utilize them now that he had the mental power to do it all. They sparred, they practiced illusions, they talked about what to expect from a Lightmind once Brin finally got his hands on one, and in the time that was left over they continued to develop his [Multithreading]. He found a pretty good balance which involved sectioning off a fifth of his mind and filling it up entirely with directed threads while leaving the rest of his mind free. His regular mind was close enough to his normal that it wasn¡¯t too uncomfortable while still keeping his regular time. That would be his combat footing; for everyday life he¡¯d just rely on [Multithreading] without the [Split Focus] technique. The mental exertion gave him a few more points of Mental Control, which were coming quick and easy after [Filial Piety] boosted his training speed. Mental Control +3 They worked at a constant pace, both of them sensing that their time was drawing short and wanting to make every minute count. The only real breaks they took were to eat and to play with Marksi, who had decided that he needed at least an hour of laser time every day. Brin figured that Marksi knew the laser dot was just a projection of light, but he didn¡¯t care and chased it as if his whole life depended on catching it. Brin didn¡¯t leave the house for the most part, but what glimpses he saw of the city didn¡¯t look good. The army retreated out of town with their conscripts in the morning after the impressment, leaving an overwhelmed city guard to try to calm down the angry citizenry. There wasn¡¯t another riot, but all business was stalled and people stayed off the streets. None of the burned down buildings were repaired. The rubble wasn¡¯t even cleared away, though the guard did make a token effort to chase off looters. Oddly, it seemed like Blackcliff would take longer to recover from this than it had taken Hammon¡¯s Bog to recover from the undead invasion. On the day that they were planning on reaching out to Lumina again, Lurilan surprised them both by showing up at their door. ¡°I found one,¡± the [Hunter] said simply when Brin opened the door. He had to think for a moment to remember what Lurilan was talking about. ¡°The Ruby Crested Mud Slider? For Marksi?¡± ¡°Yes, but we should go now. Are you ready?¡± ¡°We kind of have something we need to do today¡­¡± Brin began. Hogg shoved past him and out the door. ¡°No reason we can¡¯t do both. Might be better this way. It¡¯ll be safer to set up that spell out in the woods rather than in the middle of town again.¡± ¡°True,¡± Brin said, and then looked around for the dragon. ¡°What do you say, Marksi? Ready to earn that poison attack?¡± When Brin spotted him, Marksi was already sprinting down the city street. Book 4 - Chapter 16 They were still on the way to where Lurilan had spotted a Mud Slider when noon drew near, meaning it was nearly time for their call with Lumina. Brin and Hogg had a brief discussion about whether or not to include Lurilan, and decided that they might as well. Anything that they couldn''t discuss around Lurilan they really shouldn''t speak of out loud at all, especially not over a long-distance spell. They asked Lurilan to find a secluded spot, and he brought them to a clearing in a copse of trees up against a hill that blocked the line of sight in every direction. Still, Brin decided to be careful and mask them all in a wide cylinder of invisibility. He didn''t even need to use the new [Split Focus] elements of [Multithreading] they''d been practicing. Two directed threads and a hefty drain on his Mana took care of it with a barely noticeable effect on his perception of time. He and Hogg went through the long process of setting up the communication spell. Hogg had spent some time running Brin through the words of Language in the spell that Brin didn''t know, but he still needed Hogg''s help to get it working. Doing it alone would require several days or maybe weeks of concentrated study, and neither of them had thought it worth wasting their one-week cram session on that. When Brin finally finished his part of the spell, it was a few minutes after noon. Hopefully Lumina didn''t mind. He pushed his Mana into the spell, felt it connect with Hogg''s portions, and Lumina appeared. She was facing the wrong way, and when she turned around she greeted them all with a warm but weary smile. "Oh, good, you made it. I was beginning to worry. Is that Lurilan? Excellent! Hogg, am I solid?" "You are," answered Hogg. Lurilan stared at her, eyes wide. "Is it really her?" "In a manner of speaking." Lumina stepped forward to take Lurilan''s hand in both of hers. "It is a true pleasure to speak with you again, my friend. I must beg that the existence of this communication spell remain a secret." "You have my word, of course," said Lurilan. "Thank you. Now, we haven''t much time." Lumina dropped Lurilan''s hand and turned to face the rest of them. "Please understand that I don''t expect this to be a relationship where I command and the rest of you obey, but I don''t know how much time we have right now, so in the interest of expediency I will tell you what I believe must happen and then we can discuss it with whatever time we have remaining." "Get on with it, then," said Hogg. "Right. Ahem. Hogg, you must come to the Tower. Brin, you must accept Galan''s offer and travel to Prinnash. Lurilan, I didn''t expect to see you today, but I could use your help as well. If you''re willing, come to the tower as well." Hogg frowned and folded his arms. "Explain Brin''s part first." Lumina winced apologetically and said, "I''ll explain Lurilan''s part, since it''s the shortest. The kingdom would use your unique Skill to seek out deserters and impressment avoiders. You would be well-rewarded, and it would help my political position, but again, the choice is yours." "And for Brin?" asked Hogg. "In short, Frenaria is not safe for him. The time is not far off that the bulk of our armies will be mustered in Prinnash for the invasion of Arcaena. There is never a more precarious time for a kingdom than when all its strongest and most loyal men and women are fighting in a foreign field. The [King] will rely on the peerage to maintain order, and he will be ready to overlook many their excesses for the sake of harmony. In Prinnash, you will be surrounded by those strong and loyal soldiers, and you will most certainly not be involved in the actual assault of Arcaena itself. You will train with the [Knights], but a newly formed Lance will always stay well behind the front lines. It''s the best compromise between advancement and safety that I can think of." Brin¡¯s emotions were mixed. There was something alluring about training with [Knights], and he''d been so involved with the plots of Arcaena that he never liked the idea that the war against her would happen without him. On the other hand, it felt like he was being exiled. "Wouldn''t I be safer at the Tower with the two of you?" "I can''t guarantee that this is where I will stay. And in full sincerity, I do not know how safe it will be even with me here. Even for Hogg this will be a place of great danger, though that will be compensated with even greater opportunities. The idea will be to have Hogg arrive first to clear your way. Those among my adversaries who might try to... inopportune a subordinate [Mage] of mine will quickly find that Hogg is not an easy target. They will break themselves against him, leaving your time here without danger or stress. I believe you will come to the tower, eventually, no matter what I do, but it need not be before you are ready. You''re also a bit young, you know. Sixteen is acceptable, but eighteen is the most common. Fourteen is much too young." Still folding his arms, Hogg shook his head. "There''s another option. He could pretend to be a normal [Glasser] and lay low until the whole war blows over." Lumina clasped her hands behind her back and stood up straighter, her face becoming a mask of perfect courtesy. "Yes, that is true. Brin, you would have to change your name and face, and you could never let your disguise slip. You''d have to be a normal [Glasser], keeping all your new inventions and ideas in your mind. You would have to leave Blackcliff; too many people know you there already, and you couldn''t go to Hammon''s Bog. But yes, anywhere else would be fine. That is an option. My thinking was that you would wish to enter either the Tower or the war. I hadn''t considered anything else." She was looking awfully normal, which made Brin think hard about what she wasn''t saying. "How screwed would you be if I just up and disappeared like that?" "It would hardly be an issue," Lumina said, too quickly, with a wave of her hand. "She''s a grown up, she can take care of herself," said Hogg. Only Lurilan gave him the honest answer. "She names an heir who disappears at wartime before being presented at court? It would place suspicion on her in a time when the [King] is at his most vulnerable, and therefore at his most paranoid." Lumina glanced to the side. "I have perhaps one minute more. Brin, I won''t rush you and I don''t wish to decide for you, but--" "I''ll go to Galan," Brin said, and then gulped down a bit of acid. Not that he resented needing to leave, but everything was changing so fast. Lumina was clearly relieved, though she tried to hide it. "Good. One last thing, I did look into the matter of your investment into a caravan. You have a sum worth eight hundred pieces of gold deposited here in the Bank of Steamshield. Well done! Do I understand that this is nearly double your initial investment?" "I put in five hundred. But yeah, that''s awesome! Will I be able to transfer it to Prinnash?" asked Brin. Lumina seemed flabbergasted by the question. "What? No. I mean, regretfully not. But I will write to some acquaintances in Prinnash and have them make some monies available to you for the purchasing of armor and other necessities. We have perhaps thirty seconds left before I''m discovered. Anything else?" "When is our next call?" asked Brin. "Too risky, until Hogg is here. We''ll correspond by letter. What else?" "I will come, but I need a better bow," said Lurilan. "May the gods bless you, my friend," Lumina answered. "Now if there isn''t anything else--" Hogg said, "Lightmind. I don''t trust any of the [Illusionists] here, and without [Persistent Casting]--" "I''ll see if I can get someone to enchant one into glass. Now I really need to--" "I miss you. It was wonderful to see you," said Brin.Stolen story; please report. She rushed forward to wrap him in a hug, both arms going around his head to bring him in. Since she was made of hard light it felt like being hugged by a boulder, but he appreciated the gesture. "The same to you, my beautiful boy. Be well in Prinnash. If at all possible, stay out of the assault of Arcaena. Stay safe until we meet again." He wasn''t able to answer that, as Lumina faded from view an instant later. Brin waited a moment to make sure she was really gone and then tore down the spell and returned his threads. He glanced at Hogg, not sure what to say. This was it. They were really splitting up. He found he really didn''t want to talk about it, not yet. Hogg probably felt the same, because he spit on the ground and said, "Frustrating woman. She says she won''t order us around, but I doubt it ever entered her mind that we weren''t going to do exactly what she wants." Lurilan shrugged. "It was an easy choice for me. I wasn''t in the city for the surprise conscription, but eventually someone will invite me to join the war. I would either need to fight or let my name become mud forever. This gave me another option." "It doesn''t really change much for me, to be honest. I was going to go to Prinnash for [Filial Piety] anyway. And Hogg, don''t tell me you''re not looking forward to learning at the Tower." Hogg said, "I''d be lying if I say I haven''t been dreaming about that my whole life. But there''s a reason I haven''t gone already. Once I''m there I''ll be in the system. They''ll have expectations for me. Noctis'' Starry Night! I bet Lumina is expecting me to swear an Oath to her." "Better that than the [King]," said Lurilan. "True," said Hogg. "What''s so bad about the [King]?" Brin asked. Hogg shook his head. "Where to even start? Think about this conscription. Think about how the [Heralds] are still out there telling people that there isn''t going to be a war." "Perhaps I can sum it up like this. [Witch] is a dangerous Class, as you well know. But in terms of dangerous Classes, it has nothing on [King]," said Lurilan. Marksi chirped and puffed up his chest, and Brin had to guess what he was thinking. "No, dragons can''t be kings." Brin didn''t know that for sure, to be honest, but best to stop these ideas before Marksi could latch onto them. Marksi pointed at Brin. "No, I don''t think I want to be a [King], either." Marksi grunted derisively but then remembered what they were about. He danced in a circle and then darted towards the trees and back again, trying to urge the group onward. "You''re right," said Lurilan. "We had a purpose in coming out here today." The group headed out through the trees. They passed through trees and fields, following Lurilan and an excited Marksi. Brin barely noticed where they were going. He ran through the long-range communication spell from [Memories in Glass], seeking to learn it enough that he''d one day be able to cast it on his own. Mostly, he wanted to get his mind off his coming journey. The others also seemed to be in an introspective mood and didn''t speak much, which made the rest of the journey pass quickly. It was late afternoon when Lurilan finally called for a halt. Brin looked up and saw that they had arrived at the edge of a swamp. For the first time, Brin felt very keenly that he wasn''t in the Boglands anymore. Homesickness didn''t really hit him when he was comparing home to something completely different. When he compared Hammon''s Bog to the dry fields and healthy forests they had around here it was easy to ignore, but it wasn''t until he saw another swamp that he realized how this was definitely not the Boglands. In short, the swamp sucked. Instead of monstrous, moss-covered trees that loomed oppressively into the air pulling the light out of the sky, he saw the same kind of ordinary trees you''d find anywhere. There were few bushes, only one random vine hanging down, and an instantly recognizable path of dry ground leading straight through. No chance of accidentally falling in a sinkhole down to his neck or sinking his feet into knee-deep mud and pulling it out covered in leeches. Pathetic. It was so strange that he was homesick for a place he¡¯d only lived for two years. If he went somewhere mountainous, would he be homesick for his old life, or was that really in the past now? He wasn¡¯t certain he knew the answer. He hoped the swamp would be more interesting the further they went in, but he was wrong. A single bullfrog croaked in the distance, but there were few birds and no swarms of biting insects, though he was pretty sure it was because Lurilan had a Skill for that. The trees never really became thick enough to provide consistent shade, leaving him uncomfortably sweaty, and just like he had expected, the ground stayed dry and firm. At least that would allow them to leave quickly when this was over. ¡°Here,¡± Lurilan whispered. ¡°It¡¯s nearby. Marksi, I¡¯ve brought you close enough. I¡¯ll leave the rest to you.¡± Marksi nodded and his scales immediately started shifting color to match the green and brown of the landscape. He crept past a patch of tall grass and then Brin couldn¡¯t see him anywhere. Even though Marksi had camouflage instead of true invisibility, Brin found it nearly impossible to spot him when he was in stealth mode. He relaxed his eyes, keeping them unfocused and tried to look at everything and nothing at once. He was looking for some slight motion, a slight twitch or twist of color that he¡¯d normally dismiss or ignore. Marksi would never show more than that. He didn¡¯t end up seeing Marksi, but he spotted the target. A little frond of red stood up from the surface of a lake, heading away from them. He used [Inspect]. Ruby Crested Mud Slider Level: 12 As far as Brin understood, animals didn¡¯t really have levels, but they could advance in power by acting out their natures, and then the System assigned them a level-value based on that power when someone used [Inspect]. This beast was pretty weak. At that level, it would be a surprise if it had the beast core Marksi wanted. In his old life, he would¡¯ve called it monstrously huge; after all, the snake was seven feet long. But after all the monsters Brin had seen, he had a hard time being intimidated. He knew that the snake was venomous enough that it could likely kill him in a single bite, even with the help of [Scarred, but Healing], but was that all? It didn¡¯t seem strong enough to be a real challenge. It was about a hundred yards away, but Brin could see it clearly because of how sparse this swamp was. It moved across the pond at a casual speed; things as venomous as this Mud Slider didn¡¯t need to fear all that much in this world, as wild creatures quickly learned to stay away. It reached the shore and began to slide across the mud. Out of nowhere, Marksi appeared and bit into the snake¡¯s spine, right behind its neck. A quick flash, a sudden frantic jerk, and then it was over. The snake was dead. Brin couldn¡¯t help but feel disappointed. Sure, he was glad Marksi had killed the snake without getting hurt, but he¡¯d sort of expected it to have one more trick up its sleeve. Maybe it did, and Marksi¡¯s ambush had killed it so quickly that it hadn¡¯t had time to use it, but Brin didn¡¯t think so. They approached easily through the mostly-tame swamp, and Marksi was dancing a victory jig when they arrived. He showed off, miming his sudden and overwhelming victory again and again. Lurilan, Hogg, and Brin all took turns praising him. Lurilan knelt down, cut into the snake, and pulled the flesh to the side to reveal that the snake did indeed have the prize they were looking for. It had a beast core. Marksi reached in and plucked it out, darting away with his prize. He looked sort of guilty, like he expected Lurilan to scold him for snatching it, but the [Hunter] smiled indulgently. ¡°It¡¯s yours. You earned it.¡± Marksi peered at the crystalline organ clutched in his claws. It was a dull red, and unreflective. Brin felt a sudden wave of revulsion. He didn¡¯t want Marksi to eat that. That beast core was different than the others; it wasn¡¯t an incidental prize that he¡¯d gained as a side-effect of helping Brin. This was the first beast core that Marksi had chosen for himself. In a way, this was akin to Marksi¡¯s System Day. The core he chose now would go on to guide his evolution far into the future, maybe for the rest of his life. Did he really want it to start here? With this? That snake had been small and pathetic. It was weaker than it should¡¯ve been, and much too cocky in its weakness. Sure, it might be able to kill things high above its level, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that it was still a worm. He wasn¡¯t upset about it; that was its nature. That was poison. That was not Marksi. He saw at once that the little dragon felt the same as the little scaly face twisted in disgust. Hogg and Lurilan hadn¡¯t seemed to catch on yet. Hogg called, ¡°Well, what are you waiting for? You¡¯ve done it! Take your prize.¡± Marksi did not like being told what to do, and Hogg¡¯s prodding broke the last of his hesitation. He threw the core on the ground and turned his back with a ¡°Hmph!¡± ¡°What? You aren¡¯t going to eat it? Whyever not?¡± asked Lurilan. Marksi curled up so that he could cross his arms. ¡°Hmph!¡± ¡°Dragons know what¡¯s good for them,¡± said Brin. Hogg shook his head. ¡°Listen here, Marksi. Lurilan marched up and down this forest all week trying to find that for you. You can¡¯t just refuse to eat it without an explanation.¡± Marksi didn¡¯t move. Brin spoke up, ¡°I don¡¯t think he should eat it either. This is his first core from a solo kill; it needs to be perfect. And now that I think about it, I don¡¯t think poison suits him. When we were looking through those books he wanted us to search for creatures that breathe fire or hunt with their fore-claws. I think he¡¯s better off looking for something like that. Although, I do feel guilty for making you search for it all this time.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not as bad as all that. [Hunters] never search for just one thing,¡± said Lurilan. ¡°But I must admit that I¡¯m perplexed.¡± Marksi looked downcast. He picked the beast core off the ground and scooted over to Lurilan. The [Hunter] leaned down, and Marksi pressed the beast core into his hands, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Marksi nodded. ¡°Very well. I can sell this for a tidy sum. I¡¯ll take the poison sac, too, if you don¡¯t mind. You killed it very neatly and I see that the sac was preserved.¡± Marksi nodded again, looking happy to be able to do the [Hunter] a favor. ¡°But we will all eat the meat, and I won¡¯t have you turning your nose up at that! Remember what I told you about killing carelessly.¡± Marksi was happy to agree to that, and seemed to regain his happy mood when he saw that no one was going to force him to eat the core. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Marksi. We¡¯ll find a monster that¡¯s perfect for you,¡± Brin said. They stayed at the side of the pond in the second-rate swamp and built a campfire. Hogg found some drying logs to use for seats, and Lurilan roasted the snake meat on spits, somehow using a few pinches of spices from his pack to turn it into some of the best food Brin had ever eaten in this world. Tonight, they would have to trek back and they probably wouldn¡¯t get home until well after midnight. He didn¡¯t want to think about the parting that would come after that. But for now, he was here, with friends and family, snacking on something delicious and swapping stories of the adventures they¡¯d seen and the monsters they¡¯d killed. It was nice. Stupid Davi and Zilly, this is what good-byes should be like. Book 4 - Chapter 17 "Of course, I will be coming with you," Sion said promptly when Brin delivered the news that he¡¯d be leaving Blackcliff. "Are you sure? I can''t pull you away from your family duties," said Brin. "Yes, I''m sure. Now, it''s your serve." Brin had been surprised to learn that the Wogan mansion had a tennis court. Not because he didn''t think the mansion was big enough, but because he''d sort of forgotten about leisure activities altogether. He thought of the game as tennis because it involved hitting a ball back and forth across a net, but there were key differences. The ball was hard, like a baseball, and instead of rackets, they struck the ball with a round bat, not unlike a baseball bat. And in addition to scoring when your opponent failed to return a ball or let it go out of bounds, you could also get two points by hitting a dinner plate-sized gong set up in the middle of the back of each side of the court. The added difficulty was only natural for a world of Classes and levels, and so far Sion was thrashing him. Brin attributed that to Sion''s [Running] Skill, but Brin was getting better every minute they played. [Athletic Training] didn''t just increase the amount of attributes he got, it was also making him better at athletics. Brin served, and was relieved to see the ball go right where he wanted it. Unfortunately, that seemed to be right where Sion wanted it, and he returned it with a fierce crack that shot the ball to the opposite side where Brin had no chance of reaching it. "Doesn''t your uncle need you here?" "My uncle needs nothing," said Sion. "My entire purpose in coming here was to get away and have an adventure. Which I have done. Now I must return. Certainly returning with you will be more enjoyable." The next serve went into a back and forth volley that lasted for a long while. Sion seemed to be everywhere, returning every single shot no matter how much distance he had to cross to get there. It finally ended when Brin sent a ball that was a little too slow, giving Sion time to wind up and slam the ball straight past Brin and into the gong. "Won''t you need to head straight to Aberquay? I need to get to a town called Canibri," said Brin. "Yes, I know of it. Half way to Gonwy. Only, how did you plan to get there, mind? Will you go overland with a caravan, dodging the Frenarian patrols the entire way? Or perhaps you will sail to Aberquay, and then somehow sneak past the armies of three nations mustering in Fortmouth," said Sion. "I, uh, hadn''t thought that far," said Brin. He''d honestly planned on taking a ship to Aberquay like Sion said, but now he was suddenly second-guessing. "My, if only you had an expert on traveling through Prinnash that you could lean on for advice," said Sion. He served, but Brin ran close to the net and returned it with a drop shot, giving him a point. "I''d appreciate your help," said Brin. "As well you should!" said Sion. "When will we depart?" "We need to move fast. Hogg needs to get to the Tower, and I need to get out of sight." "Then tomorrow," said Sion. "Tomorrow," agreed Brin, but his heart sank. So soon? Well, he was the one who''d said fast. They finished the game, with Brin steadily getting better and better until after an hour of practice he was about as good as Sion. Through training, you have earned the following attribute: Dexterity +1 Back home, the day went about like the last couple weeks had been. Hogg taught him more of the illusions he knew, they had dinner at a nice restaurant, and Brin humored Hogg by joining him at a nice tea house afterwards where he put so many spoonfulls of sugar into his tea that the waiter frowned at him everytime he passed the table. The next day, Hogg made breakfast, and then they walked together towards the docks. The town was peaceful and started to wake up again. The scars from the mass-impressment were still visible, but people were crowding the markets again. Criers still maintained their story that the war with Arcaena wasn''t going to happen, and [Heralds] promised that all the people who''d been conscripted would be returned having seen no conflict and with a hefty pocketful of silver. They mostly walked in silence, Marksi scampering along beside them. Then out of the blue, Hogg said, "So listen, I got you something." He handed Brin a potion; the clear glass revealed a shimmering silver concoction with specks of glitter. It looked expensive. Most [Alchemist] concoctions looked like brown sludge unless they spent a lot of time beautifying them. Brin used [Inspect]. Potion of Time''s Remission "Ignore the pretentious-sounding name. It''s not a time travel potion. What it does is reverse the effects of childhood malnutrition. It''ll give you a growth spurt that pushes you into what your height would''ve been if your mother hadn''t been, you know, such a [Witch]," said Hogg. "This is amazing!" "Drink it!" Brin did, and was surprised by the flavor. By the color he expected a metallic taste, but the reality was much more strange. If he had to put a finger on it, he''d say it tasted like beef boullion and nostalgia. There wasn''t an immediate effect, but he didn''t expect one. "How much did you spend on this?" Brin knew the answer. Value Sense was telling him that this potion was half as valuable as a Potion of Healing. "Well, I have money again, and money is for spending. I got you one more thing. Here." The next object was a golf ball-sized gemstone. It was orange and faintly transparent, looking like a jagged lump of glass, though Brin''s glass sense didn''t recognize it. "What is it?" "Core of a Fire Jelly. Weird kind of ocean creature, I think. I had a team of adventurers start looking for one as soon as we got to town, and it just came in last night. I thought you could use it for your laser; they''re prized for enchanting illusion magic," Hogg explained. "I''ve never done much of that, but I''ll probably get a chance in the Tower." Brin pulled the core up high to keep it from Marksi''s snapping jaws. "Not for you!"A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Marksi pouted, but when he saw Brin wouldn''t relent he gave up quickly. "That reminds me. Do you think I should get a Lightmind? What would that even involve? You mentioned it to Lumina and I forgot to ask you about it." "Right. Yeah, I''m not sure with you, honestly. The major benefit of a Lightmind is that it will store and read through spells for you, but your [Memories in Glass] are already doing that for you. Not sure if it''s worth it. Since you don''t have [Persistent Casting], you''ll need to assign a part of your mind to keep it running permanently. I don''t think a directed thread would be able to do it, either." Brin found that he hated that idea. "Would the efficiency gains be worth it?" "From a purely practical point of view, your spells will be more efficient. The main problem here is trust. The way this works is that an expert will cast the Lightmind onto your brain, and then you''ll bring it under your control, empowering it with your own magic. By the way, the words to take control of someone else''s illusions are It doesn''t come in handy as often as you''d think." "What? That sounds extremely handy!" Brin said. "It''s harder than casting the spell yourself, a waste of Mana, they''ll know you''re doing it, and it''s prone to failure if they''re better than you," said Hogg. "Still sounds handy," said Brin. Hogg shrugged. "Well, you have it now. Tell me how often you use it. This is all beside the point. The main problem here is that you''re letting another [Illusionist] cast a magic spell on your brain that has access to your thoughts. It''s a matter of trust. You really shouldn''t get it done by someone who knows who you are, and in Blackcliff they all know who you are." "Right, my secret would be out," said Brin. "And they''d have a spy device in your mind, yeah," said Hogg. "Best case would be if I could get someone to enchant a Lightmind into a piece of glass that you could... I don''t know, start up and shut down whenever you want it. It''s not something I could do out here, but in the Tower, with Lumina''s pull, it should be possible." "Or I could just level up and get [Persistent Casting]," said Brin. "The jump from 35 to 40 isn''t as easy as you''re thinking," said Hogg. They drew nearer and nearer to the docks and the ship, which meant they were nearer to Brin''s departure. He walked a bit slower. "Oh! I got something for you!" said Brin. He pulled a little book from the pocket of his own overcoat. It had originally been about thirty pages of loose paper, and he''d bound it himself with glue and string. Value Sense appraised it at around three-hundred gold. Hogg read the cover. "A Treatise on the Implications and Utility of the Wyrd on Magecraft and Spellcasting." Hogg paled. "Are you insane!" He quickly covered the book by shoving it in his coat, glaring around at anyone who might be watching. "Relax," said Brin. "I took out all the parts that could get us in trouble. No mention of who taught me that stuff. I don¡¯t use any of the examples Aberfa taught me. All of it is completely verifiable by non-[Witchy] methods, without a single word quoting Aberfa directly." "It''s still a risk," said Hogg. "I was careful. Remember when I had a notebook full of things that Aberfa was teaching me, before I realized how dangerous that was? Value Sense told me it was worth nothing. Not even the paper it was written on. I think it''s because the Skill isn''t advanced enough to tell me how much a book is worth if it would get someone killed for even seeing it. The fact that this has a price means that it should be safe enough." Hogg drew the book out again, glancing at it. "I''m going to read it through before I show it to anyone." "Obviously," said Brin. "Lumina at least will want to take a look at it. And if I ever do end up spreading this around, it''ll be revolutionary. You don''t know [Mages] like I do. They''re going to hate the fact that all of their magic touches the Wyrd. And they''ll love the fact that their spells gain power based on how pompous and self-righteous they are. It''ll break their brains." Brin laughed. "We can only hope." ¡°That reminds me. Have you decided what Class you¡¯re going to pretend to be? With your attributes, people are going to stop falling for [Glasser],¡± said Hogg. ¡°Should I go with [Glassbound Warrior]?¡± asked Brin. Hogg shook his head. ¡°Among [Knights], it¡¯ll be too hard to keep up the charade. They¡¯ll keep trying to help you evolve [Blade Mastery] into something you won¡¯t be able to mimic.¡± ¡°So what¡¯s your opinion?¡± ¡°[Glass Invocationist].¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it. I assume it¡¯s a pre-[Mage] Class, like [Conjurer]?¡± "No. Well, sort of. It''s a historical Class from ancient Nhamanshal. On the surface, it''s a Class for someone who uses enchanted glass tools, but since it''s so old most people won''t be able to say for sure what it can and can''t do." "Doesn''t that just put a big sign on my forehead saying ''I have something to hide''?" Brin asked. "Sure, but it also gives a good reason for why you''re hiding it. You have a unique Class from the ancient past. It''s natural that you''d want to keep its capabilities hidden. A [Glasser] that has his whole status sheet locked down would be much more suspicious. And your absurdly high Strength would be even stranger." "Is [Glass Invocationist] Rare?" "That''s what''s so interesting about it! Back then it was Common but today if anyone manages to get it, it''s Rare. You wouldn''t think a Class can drift in rarity like that, but they do. It''d be like if you grew up in a hunter gatherer society and rediscovered farming, [Farmer] might be a Rare Class for you. The theory is that Nhamanshal''s civilization was so advanced that their Class ranking were completely different. The most ordinary Classes were focused on utilizing magical artifacts, rather than doing the work with their own hands or summoning their own magic." Hogg went into great detail about the historical details of Nhamanshal and [Glass Invocationist] that he thought might help Brin, and they talked through the types of things he could do to help sell it. The main strategy would be to summon as much glass as possible when no-one was looking, and then use it where they could see. It was common knowledge that he¡¯d started as [Glasser], so he didn¡¯t have to hide his glass summoning completely, but he¡¯d need to make it look like his strength was in using glass. Eventually, the conversation ran its course and they lapsed into silence again. They moved out of the city and onto the docks. The scent of fresh ocean air mixed with the strong stench of fish. It was one of those viscerally strong smells that he just knew would always reappear whenever he remembered this moment in the future. It wasn''t until the ship was actually in sight that Hogg finally cleared his throat. "So listen. I know I''m not... I mean. I wasn''t always--" Brin interrupted. "Shut up! You were... You were, ok? You tried. No, more than that, you succeeded. You''re always there for me. You gave me everything I needed when I needed it. You¡¯re¡­ you''re a good dad, Hogg." There was more Brin could''ve said, wanted to say, but a sudden lump in his throat made him close his mouth. Hogg looked stunned. Clearly this wasn''t what he''d expected. "Well, damn. Ok." Brin laughed. "It''s true, though. I know what I''m like, so I know I tend to take people for granted. But I want you to know that I''m grateful for everything you''ve done. You didn''t just obey your Oath, you really stepped up. I''m sorry if I didn''t--" "You''re a good son," said Hogg. It was Brin''s turn to be speechless. That was just plain inaccurate. He was an ok son, at best. ¡°Well, shoot. This is one of those times. We have to hug, don¡¯t we?¡± said Hogg. ¡°We¡¯ll tell everyone we did,¡± said Brin. Hogg grinned. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go with that.¡± Ten steps further down the docks, he scowled and said, ¡°No, that won¡¯t work. Come here.¡± Hogg wrapped Brin in a tight hug. They found Sion soon after, who had a cartoonishly large amount of luggage; ten carts full of bags and suitcases had to be loaded onto the ship by the sailors. It only occurred to him hours after they embarked that Sion was a [Merchant], so much of his luggage was probably goods for sale. As soon as he stepped on the ship, he was surprisingly busy. A bored-looking midshipman was tasked with explaining the rules, schedules, and procedures to him and a couple dozen other passengers. He¡¯d settled into a surprisingly spacious cabin that he shared with Sion, and watched as Sion unpacked suitcase after suitcase, revealing that an absurd amount of his luggage really was for his personal comfort. Then he¡¯d been excited to mess with the new Fire Jelly core that Hogg had given him, marveling with the fact that he could fill it up with light magic and then draw it out again. Then there¡¯d been an incident where Marksi had eaten one of the ship¡¯s cats, and both he and the little lizard had been subjected to a stern talking-to by the ship¡¯s first mate. It wasn¡¯t until the day was over and he stood on the deck watching the sun go down over the water that he realized that he¡¯d never actually said goodbye. Hogg had turned away and left after the hug, and Brin had been distracted by Sion¡¯s arrival. He was still in range, he could probably get a Mirror Image to Hogg in time, but he didn¡¯t. It was better this way. As lonely as he thought he¡¯d be in this moment, he realized he wasn¡¯t feeling any of that. Sion was here, and Marksi, and he hadn¡¯t had time to miss Hogg yet. More than anything, he found he was excited for what was in store. The end of Part 1. Book 4 - Interlude - Gurthcid When Cid opened his orders, he couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. The day he¡¯d been dreaming of for years had finally arrived: He was to be promoted to Prime of a new Lance, but when he read the names of those serving under him, all thoughts of celebration fled in favor of disappointment and dread. His second was to be his best friend Hedrek, a fellow [Knight]. And while Hedrek had many of the qualities he would wish for in a Second, the problem remained that Hedrek was the one person in the world who never listened to him. Hedrek had a boisterous energy that couldn''t be contained, but it had never been Cid''s job to contain it before. Could their friendship survive this? Ideally, they both would have made Prime at the same time on different Lances. The other names were worse. Him, Hedrek, and then eight nobodies from Prinnash. No [Knights], and none were even [Squires]. He had two [Warriors], two [Hunters], a [Rogue], a [Porter], an [Armsman], and a [Page]. This couldn¡¯t stand! A Lance wasn¡¯t meant to be a group of random misfits taken off the street. It should¡¯ve been the sons of lords bolstered by the very best and brightest among the common stock. Perhaps if he were anyone else, he would have gritted his teeth and obeyed. Even now, that¡¯s what he wished to do, but he couldn¡¯t. He was the son of a Count, and he had standing to speak directly to command if he wished, even to Commander Galan himself, if necessary. Since he was one of the only men in this camp that could complain, that also meant that he had to, else the problem would go unaddressed. Cid had half a mind to march straight up to Galan and demand that he give him ten good Ollandish men or remove him from command altogether. Yes, that¡¯s what he should do. What he would do. If this was happening to him, it was certainly happening to others. He had a duty to Olland to bring an end to this travesty. Cid left his rooms to stalk through the halls of the fortress, if it could even be called that. Galan and the other commanders seemed to love it here, but all he could see was an old castle in ruins. Leadership likely had never heard a word of complaint. Soon after they¡¯d arrived, one of the older [Knights] had asked rather loudly at mess what sort of true man would ever complain about something like a change in the weather, and now all the new recruits were climbing over themselves to prove that they didn¡¯t mind the terrible accommodations at all. True, as a level 30 [Knight], Cid had long since moved past the point where a chill morning or a hot afternoon could bother him, but there was no amount of points in Vitality or Strength that could make his clothes stop smelling like mold because rain had soaked his wardrobe. The fortress bothered him on a deeper level, though. It was a perfect example of the way this war was going, one where Prinnash ripped them off in a hundred different ways and they all pretended not to notice. Or maybe Galan really didn¡¯t notice at all? He was a straightforward sort of fellow. Straightforward fellows required straightforward approaches. Rather than stew in his irritation or try to bring it up in subtler ways, Cid needed to approach Galan directly. No other newly appointed Prime could do this, only Cid had the station necessary to approach the Lord Commander of the Order of the Long Sleep directly. Even so, he stood in front of the shut door to Galan¡¯s office, deliberating for a long time whether or not he would really knock. A female voice answered, ¡°Enter.¡± He gulped as he did so, to find a bleak and utilitarian office. The large desk stacked high with papers stood empty in the center of the room. Off to the side in a corner, there was a small writing desk, occupied by the woman who had let him in. Cid really didn¡¯t understand Lyssa. She was clearly a traitor, was she not? It was like in all the [Illusionist] movies, where the noble [King] always had that one trusted advisor who was obviously up to no good. The man in the movies would always dress in black robes, with a pallid complexion and sunken eyes. He would often be seen anointing a dagger with poison, raising it above his head when the [King] turned his back only to hide it in his robes when the [King] looked back to him for advice. He would advise the [King] to jail every pretty maiden and kill every young hero. Everyone could see that this was a rat, except for the [King] who trusted him completely. In the same vein, Lyssa could not be more suspicious. Instead of wearing all black, she wore the uniform of their Order, but every part of the stereotypical evil advisor fit her perfectly. Only, on a woman, a pallid complexion might be described as fair. Sunken eyes might also be the result of a modest amount of makeup. Even the dagger was true; Lyssa could often be seen toying with a ceremonial dagger, often removing it from its sheath when Galan wasn¡¯t looking. Cid half expected it to [Inspect] as ¡°Traitor¡¯s Edge¡± or some such, but alas all the Skill told him was that it was a possession of her brother¡¯s. ¡°He¡¯ll be returning in a moment. You may wait here, if you wish,¡± said Lyssa, indicating a chair. It wouldn¡¯t quite send the correct message if he sat. A commoner supplicant would sit; a subordinate soldier in wartime would stand. Cid stepped off to the side near the chairs and stood to wait. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. I will, and I thank you.¡± Lyssa rolled her eyes and went back to work. Cid waited. Not too long after, he began to hear voices from down the halls. One effect of halls of stone where no tapestries were hung and the carpets had not been replaced, was that it tended to make voices carry. Cid couldn¡¯t plug his ears, that would be absurd, so he had no chance but to listen. ¡°...ever told you of my great friend Lurilan?¡± This voice could only be Galan. ¡°You haven¡¯t. Surely he is a fierce [Knight] for you to call him a great friend,¡± responded another voice. ¡°A [Hunter], we fought together against the undead in the Boglands. At first, I was not sure we would get along. Before Travin¡¯s Bog, I would¡¯ve called a bow a coward¡¯s weapon,¡± said Galan. ¡°No. I refuse.¡± ¡°What do you refuse?¡± Cid didn¡¯t recognize the second voice. He took a risk and gave Lyssa a questioning glance. She mouthed the word ¡°Lothar¡±. ¡°I refuse to believe you would call a bow a coward¡¯s weapon. In all the time I¡¯ve known you, I¡¯ve never seen you denigrate the profession of any man. It smacks of false humility to hear you say you would insult a [Hunter] after this manner,¡± said the voice who was apparently Lothar. Cid had heard of him. He was the head of the Order of the Golden Ivory. He sounded exactly like Galan. ¡°I would not say it, but perhaps I would think it,¡± Galan answered. ¡°I won¡¯t believe that either. You¡¯re altogether lacking in prejudice, to an offensive degree.¡± Galan¡¯s voice grew agitated. ¡°I apologize for offending you. Is it so wrong that I believe any honest work, diligently executed, is worthy and honorable? Hewing men on the battlefield is no better or worse than hewing grain for a mill, so long as it is done in integrity.¡± ¡°Well put, I suppose, but I myself find it difficult to call myself the equal of any man,¡± Lothar said with a frankness that bothered Cid. ¡°I would also never call you the equal of any other man,¡± said Galan. Lothar barked a laugh. ¡°The fact that you probably didn¡¯t imply an insult there makes it all the better.¡± ¡°I assure you, I did not. I meant to say that you are stronger than any other man I have ever known. May I continue my story?¡± ¡°You may.¡± ¡°Thank you. As I was saying, perhaps some foolish [Knight] would call a bow a coward¡¯s weapon, but I saw in Lurilan no cowardice at all. What I saw instead was wisdom. He prepared for his hunt, approached silently, used guile and misdirection when necessary, and killed his quarry quickly. Perhaps against a [Knight] this would be unseemly, but we fought against foes who were owed no quarter. I learned from him that guile must not necessarily be the enemy of honor. I will approach this war¡­ carefully.¡± Lothar laughed in what sounded like delight. ¡°I¡¯m surprised at you, Galan. The man who left for Travin¡¯s Bog would never have spoken in such a manner.¡± ¡°Of that I am most aware,¡± said Galan. ¡°Then let me reiterate my previous argument and leave it here: Arcaena is not the true threat. I feel it in my bones, with a surety of instinct that has never once led me astray. I think we will regret this war should we force ourselves to pursue it. We would be better off to take this army south to explore the Wastes, or to defend against the strangers to the east. And what of the Frost King? How can we sit still not knowing from whence he came or if there shall be another like him?¡± The door opened and Galan stepped through, shaking his head. ¡°My dear friend, I fear I still cannot understand your perspective. We should do as you say and leave it there.¡± ¡°Very well, I take my leave.¡± There was one short moment when Lothar walked past the open door that gave Cid a glance at him. The armor was golden and decorated with ivory as expected, but he didn¡¯t see too much impressive about the man in the armor. He looked solid and firm of conviction, but lacked the aura of danger and power that truly high-leveled men carried. Men like Galan. And yet, Galan had called Lothar stronger than any other. How could this be? Perhaps his meaning had been referring to moral fortitude or some such. ¡°Ah, young Gurthcid Trevorrow. To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± asked Galan. Cid ventured a glance at the still opened door. ¡°Good day, sir. Was that Lothar of the Order of the Golden Ivory? I confess I find him strange. Whoever heard of an Order of only one man?¡± Galan smiled in amusement and declined to respond, so Cid took that as the refusal it was. He cleared his throat. ¡°It¡¯s about my Lance, sir.¡± ¡°Yes, congratulations are in order!¡± said Galan. ¡°Thank you sir. But I fear that¡­¡± Cid had been planning to leverage national pride to introduce his concerns, but he¡¯d just seen Galan speaking with his dear friend from Theranor while speaking about his good friend from Frenaria. He readjusted mid-sentence, deciding to lean on humility instead. ¡°It¡¯s just that I fear I¡¯m not ready for this. I don¡¯t know if I quite have the experience requisite to lead a Lance to success.¡± Galan crinkled his brow in fatherly concern, making Cid believe he¡¯d chosen the correct tactic. ¡°You are older than I was when I led my first Lance. And the Prime of your first Lance was about the same age? Eighteen or so?¡± ¡°Yes sir, true, and Jori is truly a man among men,¡± said Cid. He and Jori never truly got along, but he¡¯d been a competent commander and his orders had been reasonable, so Cid felt no regret in praising him. Like father always said, ¡°To praise one¡¯s superiors is to praise oneself.¡± ¡°Then what is the issue? Do you believe you are less than he?¡± asked Galan. ¡°No, sir,¡± Cid said, accidentally admitting it too quickly. He needed to remember he was trying to be humble. ¡°That is to say, though Jori gives me a lot to live up to, that isn¡¯t the issue. My thought is that when Jori started out, he was able to lean upon the experience of several experienced fighters under his command. Most notable is his Dectant, Clesek Green, a veteran of three wars, and a man of thirty-five years. If I have read my orders correctly, I will be the oldest in my Lance!¡± Galan looked pleased. ¡°I know Clesek. A [Scavenger], yes? That you see such value in one with a Common Class speaks well of you.¡± Cid put his tongue between his teeth to keep from gritting them in frustration. If Clesek Green really still had a Common Class, then Cid¡¯s father was a donkey. Cid¡¯s Lance had four Common Classes, really Common. ¡°But do you see my dilemma, sir?¡± Galan nodded. ¡°That you understand the wisdom of seeking guidance from your elders also speaks well of you. I¡¯ll see to it that you have adequate supervision, and I¡¯ll set appointments during your leaves and breaks with veteran commanders so that you can ask your questions and discuss problems as they come up. Will that suffice?¡± Of course not! That was making everything worse! Now he¡¯d have someone micromanaging all his affairs, as well as losing his short and limited leave to horribly boring meetings with some stuffy old know-it-alls. He thought about adjusting tack and speaking his complaints more forcefully, but the moment was growing long and he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d be able to speak now without seeming rebellious or insubordinate. To his shame, he lost his nerve. ¡°Yes, sir, that will be more than adequate. Indeed, I only feel that I have embarrassed myself in occupying your time with this matter.¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± said Galan. ¡°This conversation has only strengthened my opinion that I made no mistake when assigning you a Lance. You¡¯re going to perform grandly.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir. Then by your leave.¡± Cid turned to make his retreat. ¡°Lyssa will introduce you to your new Lance,¡± said Galan. Lyssa shot Galan a very cross look, then looked at Cid as if he were a stray rodent. ¡°Yes, naturally. With me, Gurthcid.¡± Cid nodded and followed the poisonous viper out of the rooms. She walked quickly, obviously feeling that this was a waste of her time and wanting to get it out of the way quickly, but Cid was a [Knight] and had no issue keeping up while making it look natural. They¡¯d only turned down one hallway when she spoke up, mimicking him in a sarcastic voice. ¡°Oh, Galan, I don¡¯t know what to do; I don¡¯t feel ready for this command I¡¯ve been begging for for years! Come off it, Gurthcid, insecurity has never been your vice.¡± Cid still remembered how well sound traveled in these corridors so he deflected. ¡°I spoke truly. I worry that I cannot succeed with this Lance.¡± ¡°Hm, I wonder why. Is there something wrong with this Lance in particular?¡± Lyssa looked pleased to be teasing someone. Cid waited until they were well away from Galan¡¯s earshot before responding. ¡°A [Rogue]. A [Page]. Common [Hunters]. Where are my [Longbowmen]? Where is my [Axe Master] for that matter, or my [Horse Master] or my [Lancer]? Who ever heard of a Lance without a [Lancer]?¡± Now that it was out, his voice had a bit more heat than he had intended. ¡°You can¡¯t hold a lance?¡± teased Lyssa. ¡°That¡¯s not the point, and you know it. A Lance should be a unit mixed with the most promising young men in the kingdom with a fair balance of high-leveled veterans.¡± Cid was pleased with how well he¡¯d regained his composure. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Oh, how arrogant you are? The scum scraped off of the sewer-lanes on the streets of Prinnash suddenly isn¡¯t good enough for you?¡± Cid nearly tripped, stumbling on a loose stone, something that hadn¡¯t happened to him in five years or ten levels. He stood up straight and kept his face even, although he couldn¡¯t stop his face from heating. In part because of his embarrassment at stumbling, and in part because of her shocking statement. So she knew. Well, he knew she was a scheming, conniving sort of woman. Of course she¡¯d be keen to the schemes of others. ¡°Aren¡¯t you from Prinnash?¡± asked Cid. ¡°I¡¯m from the Order of the Long Sleep now,¡± said Lyssa. Cid made a mental note to check up on her family history. He was certain there was more going on here than he quite understood. How would she respond if he pressed a bit harder in implicating her native country? He said, ¡°Prinnash undermines us at every turn. They give us the worst fortress in the worst spot, and no resources to repair it. Every request for supplies is delayed and short-shrifted. They flood our Lances with their riff-raff, in hopes to imbue more of their numbers with better Classes. They¨C¡± ¡°Oh, no, I think the reason they¡¯re flooding the Lances is to fortify loyalty. The new Lances will stay behind in Prinnash, you see,¡± said Lyssa. ¡°Then you don¡¯t deny that they are doing it!¡± said Cid, nearly shouting. ¡°Of course not.¡± ¡°Then, then¨C¡± ¡°Then so what?¡± Cid did not stumble this time. ¡°So what, you say? We are being undermined by our own allies!¡± ¡°So what?¡± Lyssa asked again. ¡°We¡¯re not made of sugar; no son or daughter of Olland will melt in the rain. We can purchase our own rations, if needed. So what if our breakfast isn¡¯t the tastiest? This is a war.¡± ¡°And stealing the loyalty of the Lances?¡± ¡°Did they succeed in doing that? By flooding the Lances with their worst, they are ensuring that the leaders of these Lances must come from Olland or Frenaria.¡± The conversation was cut short after that. They¡¯d arrived in the outer courtyard where his new Lance was supposed to be lined up for his inspection. His friend Hedrek was there and for once he was standing where he should, but he wore a broad grin that could not mean anything good. The entire group, even the [Hunters] and the [Page] were wearing full plate armor, and almost looked the part of a Lance, except that Cid could spot that apart from his friend they all wore common unenchanted metal. They were also not standing where they should. Most were circled around a pair who were shouting insults at each other. A [Warrior] and a [Hunter]. The [Hunter] turned to Cid. ¡°He steals, and he takes liberties! He abuses the women among the staff.¡± Cid¡¯s stomach sank. Investigations into such matters could take weeks, and was certain to completely undermine any effort he would make in turning these men into a team during that time. This Lance was fraught with difficulty from the start. The accused [Warrior], who [Inspect] called Pinho Duriet, turned to Cid with a wild look in his eyes. ¡°He lies. They all lie!¡± Cid had only occasionally supervised the training of the new recruits. They¡¯d been put through a six-week regimen from hell, wearing them out bodily in an effort to forge them into men and grow bonds through common suffering. Cid worried they¡¯d failed on both counts. All of the boys before him seemed to hate every single other. He didn¡¯t have the full story, as neither he nor Hedrek had joined that training. Even though he had not yet achieved the [Inexhaustible] Skill, a hallmark of their order, there was very little physical training that could tire a level 30 [Knight] like Cid. Cid cleared his throat. ¡°An investigation will need to be established, unfortunately. In the meantime¨C¡± ¡°Then I demand¡­ trial by combat. I demand the Rite of the Crucible!¡± Pinho shouted. Cid winced, and it was Lyssa who came to his rescue. ¡°You can¡¯t. You are not a member of a Lance yet.¡± Pinho cast his eyes around for help, and found none. How was he already hated this much? ¡°We became a Lance today! I¡¯m a knight-at-arms now! I have rights!¡± ¡°Not until you swear. You were all given the words, correct?¡± said Lyssa. Pinho dropped to his knees. ¡°Gurthcid Trevorrow, I render you my fealty. I will obey all lawful commands and give you my service. To you, I dedicate my life.¡± ¡°Pinho, come off it. This isn¡¯t worth your life. The investigation¨C¡± ¡°You need to say your part,¡± said Lyssa. Cid began to think she wasn¡¯t actually helping at all. ¡°Pinho Duriet, I accept your oath. I will return loyalty for loyalty and service for service. Be welcome in my Lance. Stand as a man among men.¡± Pinho stood. ¡°I demand the Crucible!¡± ¡°Then you demand death. Why not submit to the investigation? Unless you¡¯ve done something truly depraved¡­¡± Pinho grimaced in a painful smile, the smile of a man who¡¯d done something truly depraved. Cid sighed. ¡°Who is my Dectant?¡± The Rite of the Crucible was a barbaric tradition, but Pinho had the right to ask for it. Instead of a regular trial, he¡¯d be forced to fight each of his Lance members, one after another, starting with the lowest in rank up to the top. If he beat them all, he¡¯d be declared innocent. If he died, he¡¯d at least keep his name intact and cast no dishonor upon his family. In reality, Pinho probably hoped for a third option: if he acquitted himself honorably and fought until he lost consciousness, he might well be given leniency for whatever horrible thing he¡¯d done. There was also one last possibility. If no one else in the Lance believed he¡¯d done anything wrong, they could all surrender, in which case he might well get off scot free. From the looks the other men were shooting Pinho, Cid didn¡¯t think he had a hope of that. The second [Hunter] stepped forward. ¡°That¡¯d be me.¡± ¡°That¡¯d be me, sir,¡± Cid corrected. ¡°No,¡± said Hedrek. ¡°It¡¯s him. And why are you calling him sir?¡± ¡°Thank you, Hedrek,¡± said Cid. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Sir.¡± No one else appreciated Hedrek¡¯s levity any more than he did. Cid spent a moment trying to argue Pinho from this ridiculous course of action, but the man wouldn¡¯t be dissuaded. He also tried to convince the [Hunter] to surrender and forfeit his match, but he also wouldn¡¯t refuse the duel. Normally a Dectant would be the most dangerous non-noble fighter in the Lance, as they were given the responsibility of defending the Lance¡¯s honor. Cid had no idea who the strongest of these new recruits could be, but on the surface a [Hunter] against a [Warrior] was a bad matchup. However, since neither the [Hunter] nor the [Warrior] would change their minds, Cid¡¯s hands were tied. He accepted the [Hunter¡¯s] oath and let the rite happen. Lyssa spoke the ceremonial words. ¡°Take heart and fight bravely! Remember always that the eyes of Anshar are upon you. Let the light cast away darkness. Let truth prevail and let justice be done.¡± The duel was a travesty. Neither of the men were trained in fighting with armor. They were slow and awkward, and kept hitting each other on the plate, bouncing their weapons in an almost comical fashion. Eventually, Pinho got wise and started stabbing for the joints. The [Hunter] was nimble, but Pinho must¡¯ve taken [Blade Mastery], because every blow went exactly where it should. He got a lucky stab underneath his opponent¡¯s shoulder. Where another might have let off and taken a surrender, Pinho pushed deeper until he reached the heart, killing the man on the spot. Cid still hadn¡¯t gotten used to death and felt himself growing numb. He wanted to leave, he wanted to quit being a [Knight] altogether. But he¡¯d been here before. He calmed himself with a few breaths and then called out, ¡°Pinho is victorious. Who is my ninth?¡± The [Page] raised his hand. [Inspect] named him Govannon Boal and he couldn¡¯t have been more than fifteen. His level was only 14, and from the pale face and the shaking hands he knew as well as Cid did that this duel was certain death. ¡°Pinho, let¡¯s leave it here. Surrender, and I¡¯ll promise to argue your case. I¡¯ll speak of your courage and temperance,¡± said Cid. Pinho had a devilish glimmer in his eye before he clicked his faceplate shut. ¡°No. I¡¯ll beat you all.¡± There was no way he could really think that possible. He must¡¯ve also been aware that he could win this next one. If he meant to surrender, he¡¯d wait until he matched a fellow [Warrior]. He turned to Govannon. ¡°You can surrender. There¡¯s no need to throw your life away for someone like him. In fact, I¡¯d prefer it if you all surrendered. Let Hedrek take care of this!¡± Hedrek grinned and slammed his fist against his breastplate in agreement. Govannon stared at the ground and said in a timid voice, ¡°It¡¯s my right to face him, is it not?¡± ¡°It is, but you needn¡¯t risk yourself. This is suicide. A waste!¡± said Cid. ¡°I¡¯ll fight.¡± Shaking his head in disbelief, Cid accepted Govannon¡¯s Oath and this time spoke the ritual words to begin the duel himself. Unlike the unfortunate [Hunter] or Pinho, the [Page] moved in armor as if he were born to it. Indeed, they seemed more comfortable on him than fine silks on a noble lady. He neglected to draw his sword and instead brought out only a foot-long dagger. Pinho laughed derisively, and Govannon gulped and retreated back a few steps. Emboldened, Pinho charged. Govannon flowed like a snake. His movements weren¡¯t so quick as to suggest Skill usage, but he moved with the grace of someone who¡¯d trained this exact circumstance a hundred times. He took Pinho¡¯s swing on the top of his shoulder plate, and pushed up with his dagger, perfectly sliding it into the space under Pinho¡¯s chin. Blood poured from Pinho¡¯s helmet, and he swung wildly, striking Govannon twice on the body, though both were deflected by the plate. They separated, and Pinho slumped to the ground. Face down on the ground, Pinho didn¡¯t move or speak. A long groan escaped the armored man, then nothing. This left Cid with an uncomfortable dilemma. The Rite of the Crucible was fought to death or surrender. Unconsciousness counted as a surrender, but an honorable one. He could end the duel here and perhaps still save Pinho¡¯s life. Did he wish to? In the time it took to make up his mind, Pinho bled his last, making the decision for him. ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± announced Lyssa. ¡°The Rite is ended,¡± said Cid. ¡°Honor is restored.¡± Govannon retreated towards the far edge of the clearing, looking even more timid and anxious than before. Well, at least one of his men wasn¡¯t completely useless. But why did he have to be a [Page]? ¡°Come,¡± said Lyssa. ¡°We should report this to command.¡± ¡°See that they¡¯re buried with full honors,¡± Cid told Hedrek, who nodded with appropriate solemnity. It was good to see that his friend could take at least something seriously. Cid had hoped to begin familiarizing himself with his men and begin to organize things, but he saw now that wasn¡¯t going to happen any time soon. He followed Lyssa back into the fortress. ¡°Perhaps what I told Galan was right. I¡¯ve been in charge for ten minutes and I¡¯ve already lost two men.¡± ¡°Two Prinnashian men,¡± Lyssa responded. Yes, there was something odd going on with her. Cid still believed his first instincts about her. She was certainly a traitor, but now he began to wonder just who she was betraying. The rest of the day was full of reports, questions, and hearings. If viewed from the outside, it might seem that the Order viewed the deaths of their men flippantly, but from the inside he could see clearly just how much of a stir this event had caused. To his relief, few had any problems with Cid¡¯s actions. The lion¡¯s share of the ire was directed to the [Drill Sergeants]. How had they not noticed the bad feelings existing among their men? How had they not noticed Pinho¡¯s crimes, and why had he not been arrested before being assigned to a Lance? The hearings would likely go on for weeks, and the ramifications would no doubt last for months. Every part of the Order¡¯s treatment of female serving staff would be investigated. Luckily, Cid would have little to do with any of that. Two days later, he finally got word that he¡¯d been given two more recruits and that he¡¯d be able to begin to organize his Lance. His men had organized in the same courtyard, and this time all eight of them were lined up correctly. Galan met them there as well, with Lyssa. ¡°I couldn¡¯t be more excited about your new member. He¡¯s really something special, and after due consideration, I believe this is the right place for him. Use him well,¡± Galan said, and then left the courtyard to call the two new members out while Lyssa stayed by his side. The man who came out next didn¡¯t look too promising. Another moderately-leveled [Warrior], he looked like he was cast from the same mold as Pinho who he was replacing. He gave Lyssa an arrogant sneer when he saw her, then suddenly switched to contriteness and docility when he noticed Cid standing next to her. [Inspect] named him Rhun. Cid truly hoped the next one was better. The next one was worse. Out came an unwholesome-looking fellow, so covered in thin white scars that Cid immediately suspected a mental affliction. He was short, and young, and not particularly tough-looking, and Cid immediately suspected that he¡¯d started with a Common Class. [Inspect] told him he was true on all accounts. Only fourteen years old, he was even younger than the [Page]. The only good thing about him was his absurdly high level. How did he get to 38? But all that meant was that Cid wouldn''t have grounds to have the boy removed; he doubted he''d be able to use him. [Glass Invocationist] was a nonsensical Class. How was he supposed to integrate something like that into a combat strategy? Worst was his name. Despite his Prinnashian looks he had a Frenarian name, but not even a real name. This fellow was calling himself ¡°Scar the Mistaken¡±. Hedrek burst out laughing at the sight of him. ¡°This is to be my new Dectant?¡± asked Cid. ¡°Oh, no not at all,¡± responded Lyssa, and for a moment Cid began to hope. Then she finished, ¡°This will be your new Second.¡± Hedrek stopped laughing. Cid abandoned decorum and rubbed away a growing headache in his temples. This was sure to be an extraordinarily difficult assignment. Book 4 - Chapter 18 The trip to Prinnash was mostly peaceful and uneventful, even compared to the last couple months he¡¯d spent in Blackcliff. Without a workshop or even enough space to get a good workout, he¡¯d been forced to concentrate solely on his illusions. He spent most of his days sitting on the deck watching the movement of the ocean while threads and split minds worked on his magic, often summoning different shapes and colors inside his and Sion''s cabin when it was empty. He worked on his battle programs, mainly creating and integrating new strategies based off the new data he¡¯d gotten from facing Zilly and Davi. That always gave him mixed emotions; he didn¡¯t want to see anything good about the way they¡¯d gone about their boneheaded send-off, but he already had a hundred ideas of things he could¡¯ve done better and new spells he could try. A lot of his time was spent in refining the spells he already had. He could summon his mirror men even faster now, as well as make them walk and move naturally. Perhaps the most exciting development was the core of the Fire Jelly. He found he could pump truly extraordinary amounts of light magic into it and then release it all at once. He could store his entire Mana pool and then focus it all into heat, giving him a viable heat attack for the first time. Using the Language, he¡¯d kind of been able to transform that light magic into a laser, but it had lost so much energy in the process that he¡¯d barely been able to use it to light dry kindling on fire. The breakthrough had come when on a port day he found a [Gemsmith] who could reshape the core into a cylinder that would fit into the laser he¡¯d made. With the new core, the laser turned into a burning beam of light that could travel miles before dispersing in the atmosphere. Better still, if he completely closed it off, he could pump the mirror with energy and then release it all at once, shooting a fairly powerful flame attack that moved at the literal speed of light. If he really wanted to burn things, he could always make a big parabolic lens and hang it in the air, but those were hard to aim and weren¡¯t really practical in a combat situation. The new laser was an ace in the hole. Sion spent most of his time working in his room, but he always had time to chat or to play a board game when Brin went to see him. Rhun was restless to the point of being unbearably annoying. He challenged Brin to a duel at least once a day, and Brin complied about once a week. He beat the upstart [Warrior] every time. For his part, Marksi spent most of his time in the ocean. It always made Brin¡¯s heart leap to his throat when he saw the little dragon jump into the water, but Marksi was quick as a fish in the water. He took to making webs between his fingers and toes, and elongated his body again so that he could half swim and half wriggle through the water like an eel. He¡¯d even started to move his eyes further to the sides of his head, but transformed back to normal after Sion told him it made him less handsome. The Captain wasn¡¯t happy the first time he saw Marksi jump off the ship, but was mollified when he came back with a big fish to share with the crew, especially since it meant he wasn¡¯t killing any more cats. There was one exciting day when Marksi returned with a Fire Jelly in his claws, but when Brin cut it open he found that this one didn¡¯t have a beast core. Not all of them did; that was usually reserved for older, stronger beasts. When they reached Aberquay, Rhun got drafted the second he stepped foot off the deck, to his obvious delight. Sion was given a writ that promised Rhun would return to duty as his body guard when the war ended, whenever that was. In the meantime, Brin was good enough protection to get Sion from the docks to his family¡¯s branch in town. Sion used the contacts of his family¡¯s business to provide information on the state of the war and it quickly became clear that their original plan of sneaking past the army to get to Cadwy¡¯s family would be near impossible. Sion worked out a plan anyway, but the trip would be overland, without a caravan, and take several months. It would take less time to just find Galan¡¯s Order, join a Lance, and then wait to find his half siblings until they were given some leave time. Brin decided that¡¯s what they¡¯d do. The next leg of the journey was a military caravan. When Brin showed them Galan¡¯s letter, they¡¯d insisted on bringing him the entire way, though he wasn¡¯t sure if that was for his safety or so that he couldn¡¯t slip away. They traveled through a long, wide valley that wrapped around a steep and circular mountain range that was completely dotted with stone forts and walls. He learned that Prinnash guarded the mountains very thoroughly, because the other side of the range was Arcaena¡¯s territory. They insisted that there was nothing to worry about, though, because the mountain range was bigger than it first appeared. The few towns they passed on the way through seemed unbothered, but the caravan didn¡¯t actually enter the towns so he didn¡¯t get a chance to see how they really lived. When they finally arrived at Galan¡¯s Order, Brin knew it had to be the place because he knew the way his luck went. The castle was total garbage. It was so old and worn down that it was hard to even tell what it might have originally been built for. It might¡¯ve been a cathedral, a reinforced keep, or an office building for all he knew. The main building was several stories tall and mostly intact, but the crumbling sides let him see straight into some of the outer rooms. There were the visible remains of wings built to the sides in a star pattern, but most of those were little more than the outline of walls on the ground. All sorts of tents and temporary shelters had been erected in their place. The ancient keep looked farcical, but the army mustering below it looked very real. Rows of well-disciplined soldiers marched in ranks, running drills. There was a dizzying array of strange and miraculous weaponry, so much that Brin couldn¡¯t begin to guess what all of it did. Well, no, he could guess. Those had to be siege towers, right? And trebuchets were pretty straight-forward, but there was also ballista and what looked like battering rams, except covered in arcane runes and magical gems that somehow made it look high-tech. ¡°This is it, sirs,¡± said a page from the caravan. The boy was pre-System Day, maybe eight or nine, so the army had him running errands. He was visibly relieved that Brin had actually followed him to report for duty and hadn¡¯t tried to make a run for it. ¡°The commander is just inside. I have to wait outside, though.¡± He gave Sion a significant glance. ¡°I should depart here as well,¡± said Sion. Brin had seen this one coming from a mile away; Sion definitely wanted to meet Galan, but he¡¯d slit his own wrists before asking Brin for a favor that big. He grabbed Sion by the bicep and half guided, half shoved him along. ¡°Nonsense. Until I¡¯m sworn in, Galan is just a friend. No more, no less. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll want to meet all my friends, though I seem to be running short on those lately.¡± ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t possibly¡­¡± Sion couldn¡¯t hide the growing grin and made no move to resist Brin¡¯s bullying. ¡°You can. You wouldn¡¯t force me to face a legendary [Knight] like Galan all on my own?¡± ¡°Well, if you insist,¡± said Sion, and Brin let him remove the hand on his arm. Marksi scampered along in front of them as if he owned the place. Inside the keep, they immediately drew stares. They were not dressed in servants livery and not in uniform, and Marksi stood out no matter where he went. Whenever someone looked like they were about to challenge him, Brin asked them for directions to Galan, and they¡¯d given him directions to his office. The inside of the keep looked the same as the outside, all broken and decaying. Brin had to ask for directions three times, and it was actually Galan that found him. The [Knight] saw him as soon as he turned a corner and his face lit up in a big smile. Galan was exactly the way Brin remembered. He dashed down the corridor and squeezed Brin in a hug. ¡°Brin, lad, look at you! You look¡­ you look as if you¡¯ve seen some trouble, with those scars. Lumina warned me about that, never fear. From what I hear, those are marks of valor! Bear them well. And who is this?¡± ¡°This is Marksi!¡± Brin said, lifting up the dragonling. Marksi chirped happily. ¡°A fine companion, I am sure! But who is your other friend?¡± Galan asked, patting Marksi on the head. ¡°Galan, meet my friend Sion Wogan,¡± said Brin. ¡°He¡¯s a [Merchant] and a brave man. He¡¯s had my back through many dangers.¡± Sion suddenly looked as if he had trouble speaking. Galan shook his hand. ¡°Well met, friend. Wogan¡­ do you know a High Lord Damisco?¡± ¡°Yes of course! I think of him as my very dear uncle!¡± said Sion. ¡°He serves¡­ that is to say, he owns¨C¡± Galan held up a hand. ¡°I know how Prinnash works. He serves the Wogan group as a figurehead.¡± ¡°Yes, but I do not lie when I say I think of him as my very dear uncle. In fact, this is one of the men I respect most in the entire world,¡± said Sion. ¡°We served together, fifteen years ago it must be, in the Downing Campaign,¡± said Galan. ¡°Indeed? And how could my dear uncle Damisco have neglected to share this with me? You must tell me the story, so that I might properly shame him when I see him next!¡± said Sion. ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± said Galan.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. A woman stepped out from around Galan. They¡¯d probably been walking together, but she hadn¡¯t decided to run forward when Galan had. ¡°This really is a main branch Wogan? And they just let you wander in here unescorted? Unbelievable. And to cap it all off, a dragon. For sure, great idea, [Knights] and dragons are famous for getting along so well!¡± She looked at Brin. ¡°Next you¡¯re going to tell me you¡¯re a prince of Arcaena.¡± Brin chuckled nervously. That was uncomfortably close to the truth. ¡°This is Brin the Mistaken. I told you about him. And yes, meet Sion Wogan. Sion, Brin, this is Lyssa, my adjunct,¡± said Galan. Lyssa gave the sarcastic imitation of a curtsy. [Inspect] called her Lyssa Lethonen and said she was a [Lieutenant], but didn¡¯t give much more than that. She had the affect of someone who didn¡¯t care how people saw her, but Brin couldn¡¯t help but notice she was dressed as cutely as a military uniform would allow. She was wearing a necklace and earrings, just enough makeup to look natural, and while he wasn¡¯t an expert on women¡¯s hairstyles by any means, he was pretty sure that her wavy, layered hair was meant to look simple and easy while actually being devilishly tricky to pull off. She was attractive, all things told, but in a venomous manipulator sort of way. She sighed and said to Sion, ¡°Well, if you¡¯re here anyway then the damage is done. We should have a chat. You¡¯re going to help me cut through some of this Prinnashian obstruction.¡± Sion shrugged. ¡°I will do what I can.¡± In Sion-speak, Brin thought that meant that he saw a real opportunity here, but he didn¡¯t want to be seen jumping on it too eagerly. ¡°Hey, whatever happened to that shipment of supplies we brought up here?¡± Brin asked. ¡°The stuff we bought with all of Hogg¡¯s money.¡± ¡°Sitting at port, due to the aptly-named Prinnashian obstruction,¡± said Sion. ¡°Sion, maybe you could help with her stuff, and she could help with that?¡± Brin suggested. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair,¡± said Lyssa. Sion rubbed his hands together. ¡°I¡¯d be all too delighted! Establishing a working relationship with a new wealthy client from a foreign nation? Twist my arm, why don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I¡¯d be all too delighted!¡± Lyssa said, mimicking Sion in a mocking tone. Then she actually did twist his arm, pushing him away and down the hall. ¡°This way. We can start now.¡± As she pushed Sion in front of her, walking away, she sashayed a bit. She definitely hadn¡¯t been walking like that when she¡¯d approached before. Yeah, Brin was certain of it now. She was totally into Galan. ¡°I apologize for her. She¡¯s usually not so¡­ assertive,¡± said Galan. ¡°No need. But what¡¯s going on with her?¡± Brin asked. Hopefully Galan would just say that they were an item and he hadn¡¯t just walked in on something complicated. Galan looked pained for an instant. ¡°It¡¯s not my place to say. I¡¯m not sure if she even knows that I know.¡± He looked away, seeming conflicted, and whispered so quietly that only Brin¡¯s illusion magic let him hear, ¡°But she must!¡± Great. Brin had just walked in on something complicated. He¡¯d have to dedicate a few Invisible Eyes to this mystery. Galan shook his head. ¡°Never mind. I apologize again. It truly is well to see you again, young man! Come! We have much to discuss.¡± Brin worried things would be awkward with Galan. After all, he called him a friend, but in reality they¡¯d hardly spent a full day together before they¡¯d split up and hadn¡¯t seen each other in more than a year. But Galan had a calm, soft-spoken manner that made him easy to talk to. They walked in a circuit around the fortress and Galan showed him around. The servants areas, the places where [Knights] trained, the general mess and the officer¡¯s cafeteria. He showed Brin a room where he¡¯d be staying, and warned him that once he was a part of a Lance, the accommodations would become drastically worse. ¡°When will that be?¡± Brin asked. ¡°When am I joining a Lance, I mean?¡± ¡°That will depend on a few things. Most especially will be your own capabilities.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Brin nodded. ¡°You want to see what I can do? Or would it be simpler if I were to read out my status sheet?¡± Galan frowned, looking embarrassed. ¡°A demonstration would be most welcome. You¡­ you know you shouldn¡¯t offer to read your status to everyone who asks.¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re not everyone, Galan.¡± That seemed to mollify him. Galan said, ¡°I thank you, then, for the confidence, but there is no need.¡± He felt a little bad, because he hadn¡¯t actually intended to read his full status. He would tell Galan he was an [Illusionist] if he could be absolutely certain no one would overhear, but he didn¡¯t want to tell anyone else, especially not Lyssa. If he was really going to survive in a Lance, then he needed his comrades to trust him, and it was hard to trust an [Illusionist]. It would be better if they thought he was a [Warrior] who could control glass. Galan led him to a larger room that might¡¯ve been a ballroom in ages past but now had turned into a training room and sparring arena. A few men were already practicing, and there was a crowd off to the side, but no one looked twice at Galan and Brin when they entered, except to salute at their commander before going back to what they were doing. ¡°So what did you have in mind?¡± Brin asked. ¡°You favor the spear, correct? Perhaps show me the spear form, and then we can think about finding a sparring partner for you,¡± said Galan. ¡°Sure,¡± said Brin. He¡¯d had to leave his Bog Standard spear outside the fortress, obviously, so he selected one from a rack. Its blade was dull, which was fine. ¡°Do you mind if I¡­? It¡¯s better if my weapons are at least partially glass.¡± ¡°Do as you will,¡± said Galan. Brin pushed some mana into it, covering the spearhead with a thin layer of glass. Then he gave a small wince as he split a quarter of his mind off from the rest, so that he¡¯d be able to run some threads without speeding up time. He stepped back and stood with his legs far apart and his arms out wide. Main: run Ironman_ver1.5 Task Manager: Summoning glass armor Since his Task Manager was now another mind inside his own head, he could feel it work. Lately, it was hard to think of it as a separate mind at all, and more like what it should be. It was him. It was all him, and he was simply able to think about more than one thing at once now. He summoned some quick pieces of glass, letting the Directed Threads follow the optimal patterns he¡¯d long since drilled into them. Pieces of arm guards rose into the air, paultrons, a breastplate, and armored pieces on his thighs and shins. They didn¡¯t come close to covering him fully, and that didn¡¯t matter since protection wasn¡¯t the main point. The main point was movement. Now that each of these pieces of armor were controlled by a Directed Thread who already knew their orders, they could work together to make him stronger. He started the spear form, and the armor moved with him, making him stronger and faster, pushing against him to halt momentum and even gravity when necessary. He could turn sharper, move quicker. One part of the spear form was a long jump and stab, and when he did it, his armor pushed him along in the air, giving him a twelve-foot leap that was as easy as jumping from the curb onto the street had been in his past life. When he finished, he noticed that a few of the soldiers had turned to watch, and felt a bit of satisfaction. He didn¡¯t know if his raw physical stats were up to snuff with a [Knight] his age, but he felt confident that his physical stats being bolstered by his Magic would be good enough to get by. Galan was stroking his chin and nodding. ¡°Yes. Yes, I believe you¡¯ll do quite nicely. Your Magic must be truly staggering to be able to summon that much glass so quickly.¡± ¡°I do my best,¡± Brin said with a nod, though sweat dripped down his back. That hadn¡¯t actually put much of a dent in his Mana, but it was still the upper limit of what a [Glasser] should be able to do in an entire day. He could only hold so much Mana because of [Mana Well] and his extra magic per level from [Illusionist]. ¡°Despite your strong magic, it seems like your physical stats aren¡¯t far behind. Any Lance will be lucky to have you.¡± ¡°Did you want to see a spar?¡± Brin asked. ¡°No need. But perhaps you can show me one more thing,¡± said Galan. ¡°Try tossing the spear against one of the dummies. At full power, if you please.¡± Brin could do that. This is what his fake [Glass Invocationist] was supposed to be good at, after all. He ended all the threads working to put magic into his armor, and then started concentrating on his spear. He summoned more glass onto the head, making it thicker and longer, and then when he was confident it was big enough to hold a sufficient amount of magic, he started chanting. ¡°¡± He threw the spear with all his might the second that the spell started to take hold, and together both physical strength and magic propelled the spear with incredible power. It landed like a missile. Both spear and target exploded in a shower of splinters. A few of the soldiers applauded, and more than a couple glared at him angrily while picking splinters out of their skin. ¡°Yes, I know just the place for you,¡± said Galan. Despite saying that, it was five more days until Galan found the place for him. Brin spent the time waiting in abject boredom. With no official posting, he wasn¡¯t quite a soldier and wasn¡¯t quite a guest. He ate with Galan, Lyssa, and Sion in the officer¡¯s cafeteria, which was the high point of his day, since the rest of his time was spent idle. He could spar with the soldiers, but he could tell his uncertain classification made them uncomfortable and they didn¡¯t really want him there. He could stay in Galan¡¯s office, but Galan was gone most of the time, coordinating the upcoming invasion with the other leaders. Lyssa and Sion let him sit in on their discussions, but there wasn¡¯t much he could add. His one saving grace was a stack of books Galan dropped off in his rooms. They were titled Military Codes of Disciplines of The Knightly Orders of Olland, split into five volumes. They were a great introduction into what Brin¡¯s life would be like in the Order, but they were dry. The only way he could convince himself to read them was to split his mind into four and take turns, but splitting too much meant he couldn¡¯t understand anything. As a break from that, he spent more time than he probably should have using Invisible Eyes to spy on everyone. The fortress had defenses against such things, of course, but since he was already inside he was able to get past most of them. It was sort of like cybersecurity in his old world. It was a lot of work to secure a computer against hacking over the internet, but it was near impossible to stop a hacker who had physical access. He tried to figure out what was going on with Lyssa, but didn¡¯t make much progress other than catching her throwing wistful glances at Galan when he wasn¡¯t looking. The reports on her desk were mostly logistics and requisition reports, nothing that would point to a diabolical plot. She didn¡¯t launch into a Disney villain monologue song the second she was alone in her room, and she also didn¡¯t fiddle with her hair while singing a love song and gazing at Galan¡¯s framed picture. Brin didn¡¯t make it a habit of watching women while they were alone in their rooms too often, so maybe it happened while he wasn¡¯t watching. His spying at least let him know what the delay was. Galan wanted to put together a high-powered super Lance of all the best men from Olland, so that he could be sure Brin would be safe no matter where they were called. The Lance that was currently being formed was not that Lance. It was to be led by a moderately-talented [Knight] whose career was being held down by his hotheaded wildcard of a best friend. Prinnash had insisted on filling the rest of the team, and they¡¯d filled it with losers. So Galan was trying to delay and put Brin on the next Lance after that, though questions were being asked about what Brin was doing here at all. No one told Brin about the insane duel and the death of two men, but of course he¡¯d been watching it all with an Invisible Eye. It was a stark reminder that the world he was stepping into would be much harsher and less forgiving than Hammon¡¯s Bog had been. Two days after that, a harried and exhausted-looking Galan called Brin into his office, which was worrying, because Brin was pretty sure Galan was immune to getting tired. Without preamble, Galan said. ¡°Let me ask simply. Shall I put you where I want you, or where I need you?¡± All things considered, he¡¯d love to be on the super Lance that Galan dreamed of, but he didn¡¯t know if that was ever coming. He was sick of waiting. ¡°I¡¯ll go where you need me,¡± said Brin. Galan frowned and nodded. ¡°Then so be it. Brin isu Yambul, from this moment on I am your superior officer. You will salute me. You will stand at attention. You will address me as sir.¡± Brin stood up straight and saluted. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°It¡¯s time to meet your new Lance.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 19 ¡°I''ll let you all grow acquainted,¡± Galan said. Then he and Lyssa were gone, and Brin was alone with a group of young men who were all various degrees of hostile. Was that really all the introduction Galan was going to give him? Announce that he was the Second and then take off? Brin didn¡¯t even know what a Second was. Did that mean he was the Second in command? From the way the other [Knight], who [Inspect] called Hedrek, was glaring at him, he thought that was probably the case. The [Warrior] and [Hunter] also eyed him with distrust, while others like the [Porter] and [Armsman] looked on neutrally. The leader, whom Galan had called Gurthcid stared at him with a look of extreme annoyance. ¡°And are you to follow me everywhere I go?¡± asked the man who¡¯d stepped into the courtyard just ahead of Brin. He realized he knew him; it was Rhun. Somehow, Sion¡¯s idiotic bodyguard and he had ended up in the same Lance. Brin hadn¡¯t even known that Rhun was in this castle. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± said Brin. ¡°You two know each other already. How grand. Today we¡¯ll focus mainly on getting acquainted with each other and our roles in the Lance. We¡¯ll need a full day at least to teach you all how to ride, but that won¡¯t be today,¡± said Cid, speaking in Prinnashian. It was the language Brin was most fluent in outside of Frenarian, but he still spoke it with a pretty bad accent. It took Brin a half-second to parse all that in Prinnashian. Couldn¡¯t everyone slow down while they were speaking? He supposed he was lucky they were speaking Prinnashian and not Ollandish, since he only knew like ten words in Ollandish, but that didn¡¯t spare him the embarrassment of stumbling over every other word. ¡°Yes¡­ sir,¡± said Brin. Was Cid his commanding officer now? Better to be safe than sorry, he supposed. Wait, should he salute as well? He didn¡¯t know, but Rhun wasn¡¯t saluting, so he guessed probably not. Cid looked at him, clearly expecting him to do or say something, but Brin honestly wasn¡¯t sure what. This was his first experience with any kind of military; he hadn¡¯t enlisted in his past life and he doubted that knowledge would help at all here. Whatever Cid was waiting for, he didn¡¯t get it. He shook his head derisively and said, ¡°The two of you missed the fun little training period, so I suppose you won¡¯t know certain things that you ought to have been trained on before now. For example: A Lance trainee will always appear before his commander in full armor.¡± Brin made eye contact with Rhun, a brief moment of shared embarrassment. Brin¡¯s only armor was leather, and he didn¡¯t think he should wear that when even the [Rogue] was wearing metal. ¡°I have got not¡­ I mean I not got¡­ Excuse me. What I try to say is: I have no armor. I made plans to buy some, but¨C¡± Cid winced as if that were the dumbest thing he¡¯d ever heard. ¡°You¡¯re to be part of an Order, are you not? Did you really think we couldn¡¯t outfit our [Knights]? Govannon, show them where they can find something to wear. That¡¯s a good job for a [Page], I think.¡± Govannon grimaced, but stepped forward to comply. He walked past Rhun and Brin, straight back the way Brin had just come. He didn¡¯t look at either of them or say a word, so it took Brin a second to remember he was supposed to follow. He scurried after. The [Page] walked quickly, but Brin was more than double his level and had a Skill for movement outside of combat, so he had no trouble falling in beside him. Trying to sound more natural in Prinnashian, he said, ¡°Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Brin. I never met a [Page] before. I never even heard of it as a Class before, to be honest. I thought most people went straight to [Squire] on System Day.¡± ¡°[Warrior] and then [Squire] most often,¡± corrected Rhun. It was weird to now hear the thickly-accented Rhun speaking naturally while Brin was the one having a hard time finding the right words. Govannon had seemed somewhat timid and withdrawn back with the rest of the Lance, but now he practically radiated resentment. ¡°Let¡¯s not chat. I don¡¯t want people to think we¡¯re getting chummy.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± said Brin. He understood; the other guys had all hated Brin at first sight for some reason, so the smallest, weakest member of the team wouldn¡¯t want to get thrown in with him. Brin understood, but he didn¡¯t like it, and he certainly wouldn¡¯t be complying with it. ¡°So anyway, what did I do wrong back there? I get the feeling that I was supposed to say something, but no one told me what it was.¡± ¡°You¡¯re supposed to act like a Second,¡± said Govannon and tried to push forward, but Brin kept up easily. After that it became a speedwalking race, where Govannon tried to pull ahead and Brin made sure they walked side by side while trying to make it look easy. Since they were walking fast, it didn¡¯t take long to get where they were going. Near the center of the keep, where the floors had all of their stone and the walls showed no sign that the water was leaking this far in, they found the storehouse. ¡°I¡¯ll wait out here. Be quick, would you?¡± said Govannon. Two heavily armored soldiers stood guarding a reinforced steel door. They nodded at Govannon and then opened the door to let Rhun and Brin through. Inside, Brin found what looked like it could be a boutique clothing store in a shopping mall back on Earth, if the boutique clothing store only sold clothing made of metal. Pauldrons, gorgets, rondels, and breastplates, along with vambraces, greaves, sabatons, and tassets. Some armor was made of big metal plates and traded flexibility for durability, but others were made of so many interlocking parts that they really did look like clothing made of metal. The armor was laid out in rows on tables or stacked in piles or dumped into crates. He only saw armor, though, so weapons and all other equipment must be in another room. A bald old man with uneven eyes and a long white goatee sat reclined on the room¡¯s only chair. He wore expensive-looking plate mail, and didn¡¯t seem uncomfortable in it at all. He wouldn¡¯t¨Cnot with a Class like that. [Inspect] named him Meathrydon Bloyd, a level 55 [Snow-Blessed Armorer]. ¡°Did you just [Inspect] me?¡± the old [Armorer] snapped. ¡°The name¡¯s Meaty, and nothing else. Got that?¡± For some reason, Brin found Meaty¡¯s Prinnashian easier to understand. ¡°Got it,¡± said Brin. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Rhun shouted, and snapped a crisp salute. Brin really needed to learn when to salute and when not. The problem was, that hadn¡¯t been laid out in the manual Galan had given him. ¡°What he said,¡± Brin said, poking a thumb towards Rhun. Meaty laughed. ¡°No, no, you had the right of it. I said my name is Meaty and not anything else. Especially not sir. Now, are you two sworn in yet?¡± ¡°No,¡± said Brin. He¡¯d been warned that there would be an Oath required; something else to worry about. He didn¡¯t want another System Oath, and he didn¡¯t want his loyalty to be split in another direction, but everyone acted like it was a matter of course that he¡¯d swear it, so it couldn¡¯t be anything too onerous. ¡°Then you¡¯re still trainees, officially. That means raw metal only, no enchantments,¡± said Meaty. ¡°That is fair, but I have very good leather armor of my own,¡± said Brin. Meaty snorted. ¡°The armor isn¡¯t for protection, it¡¯s for training. You¡¯re supposed to get used to wearing it so that it won¡¯t be a surprise when you become a knight-at-arms. Once you¡¯re part of a Lance, you can come back here and get something custom made. Don¡¯t expect miracles, though. There¡¯s a long line in front of you.¡± Brin stroked his chin. ¡°My mother promised to send money here to buy armor, but I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m supposed to spend that with you or buy something on leave.¡± Meaty leaned further back in his chair, so far that Brin was worried he¡¯d fall and hit his head. It was just a plain wooden chair, none too sturdy-looking, and while Meaty was in armor he wasn¡¯t wearing a helmet. ¡°Unless your mum is a very rich [Lady], the standard options I can give you will be better than anything you can buy from me.¡± ¡°My mother is the [Archmage] Lumina,¡± said Brin. He realized he¡¯d been hiding his ring, and pulled it out of his pocket to place it on his finger. Rhun watched, considering it darkly. Meaty¡¯s uneven eyes popped. ¡°In that case, come back when you get your allowance in, and we¡¯ll work something out. That doesn¡¯t change what I can offer you today, though.¡± Brin gestured to Rhun to go first, mostly because he didn¡¯t really even know what to ask for, and Rhun was more than eager. Meaty stood up to help him, and Brin felt a mental sigh of relief now that the old man wasn¡¯t leaning way too far back on his chair. There was no way a short fall like that could damage someone at level 55, but that didn¡¯t prevent Brin¡¯s instincts from telling him an old man was about to break his head open. Rhun, unsurprisingly, wanted armor that looked exactly like the other guys in the Lance had been wearing. A stiff single-piece cuirass, big rounded pauldrons on the shoulders, and pointy couters on the elbows. There were all sorts of options for the legs, from what amounted to metal pants with obscenely prominent codpieces to chainmail skirts. Meaty said, ¡°You¡¯ll want something that takes well to horseback. At the same time, the more metal you have covering your body, the better your chance of getting [Squire].¡± Unspoken was the assumption that of course every [Warrior] would want to evolve to [Squire], which Brin supposed needed no justification. Rhun ended up taking cuisses which guarded the whole leg except the inner thigh, with chainmail. That seemed extraordinarily uncomfortable to Brin, but he supposed they knew what they were doing. Even though much of the armor on display had beautiful designs, decorations, and engravings, all the pieces that Rhun asked for were completely plain. That matched the other members of the Lance; he supposed that modesty was in fashion in the Order. ¡°Now all that¡¯s left is to get it in your size,¡± announced Meaty. In his old life, Brin would expect this to be a multi-day process, but Meaty made quick work of it. Some of the pieces he bent over an anvil and hammered into shape, completely cold, while others he simply bent with his fingers. Brin could see why someone would choose to specialize a [Smith] Class into [Armorer]. Even Toros hadn¡¯t been able to do that.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. When it was his turn, Brin had a better idea of what he wanted. ¡°I want flexibility, but weight isn¡¯t really an issue, so the more the better. I¡¯ve been looking at that.¡± He pointed towards a cuirass that reminded him a bit of what a Hussar might wear. The hard plate ended halfway down the stomach. ¡°That¡¯s an unusual choice. You¡¯re not worried about [Squire]?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s for me,¡± said Brin. ¡°Well, that don¡¯t bother me none. It¡¯s nice to get to put together something interesting for once. Let¡¯s start with that, and then build the rest around it, hm?¡± Grinning, Meaty scribbled something down on a notepad, tore off the sheet and then opened the door to hand the paper to Govannon, waiting outside. ¡°Get me this!¡± Govannon gave a ¡°tch!¡± of annoyance and took off to find whatever Meaty had just ordered. Meaty then set back and forth through his storehouse, picking up items and setting them in a big pile. He correctly guessed that Brin wouldn¡¯t know enough to give useful feedback and was more than happy to take his initial selection and run with it. He did pause while considering vambraces to ask for his input once, though. ¡°Were you thinking plain or more ornamental?¡± Brin had to think for a second to remember the word ¡®ornamental¡¯. ¡°Oh! Ornamental, please. Dragons if you have them. It will give something for my glass to latch onto. Actually¡­ is it ok for me to cover this all with glass?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes, ok, I can work with that. Yeah! This is going to be fun!¡± Meaty put everything he had selected back, and then walked through his storehouse a second time, picking out a variety of extremely ornamental armor. A knock sounded at the door and then it opened without waiting. A slickly-dressed [Tailor] named Kerwin Blaney stepped inside, holding what looked like a thick red blanket. ¡°Who is this for?¡± asked Kerwin. Meaty pointed at Brin. Kerwin shook his head. ¡°Oh, no, my friend, cherry red is not your color.¡± He tapped the blanket three times, and each time it got a shade darker. ¡°Yes, this will do. Try it on!¡± When Kerwin unfolded the blanket, he saw that it was more like a dress. Thankfully he had [Inspect] to give him the names of things. [Inspect] called it a ¡®delica coat¡¯, basically a long sleeve shirt that went down to the knees. The fabric was so thick that he thought it might almost work as a secondary armor in the vein of a gambeson. Brin tried it on. It was heavy, and he knew it would be unbearably hot if he didn¡¯t have a Skill for that. Kerwin tutted and trimmed the hem, cutting an inch off right on the spot. Then he pulled on the sleeves, stretching them out a bit. Once Kerwin was satisfied, Meaty started adding the armor on top. A breastplate, backplate, oriental style bracers, a lobster-tail helmet and a gorget to protect the neck. He wore more armor than a Hussar typically would, including armored gloves with separate fingers, and sabatons, greaves, and metal plates over his thighs that all went on under the delica coat. All of it was heavily stylized, with the designs engraven instead of added on top. When the greaves that Meaty wanted were too plain, he carved a complex and beautiful dragon across them right on the spot, deep enough that Brin¡¯s glass would be able to sink inside and latch on. He felt pretty cool when the whole thing was put together; he definitely gave off final boss energy. At the same time, it made him a little nervous that he looked so different than what everyone else was wearing. Well, if Meaty was fine with this, then everyone else could get over it. ¡°I have to say, I¡¯m a mite proud of the way it came together. Promise me you really will let me make your armor when your money comes in,¡± said Meaty. ¡°I promise. But give me a discount!¡± said Brin. ¡°I will, you can count on that. Why dragons, by the way?¡± ¡°Why dragons?¡± Brin asked, perplexed. Wasn¡¯t it obvious? But then he realized that he hadn¡¯t seen Marksi since before Galan had introduced him to the Lance. Well, the little guy could be a little sensitive to tense social situations. He¡¯d come around when things got a little calmer. ¡°Because dragons are cool!¡± ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that,¡± said Meaty. Back in the hall, Govannon gave Brin a disgusted look when he saw the armor, but didn¡¯t say anything and led the way back. The second that they were going through the door back into the courtyard where the Lance was waiting, Brin slung his arm around Govannon¡¯s shoulders. This time, rather than try to conceal his heavy accent, Brin leaned into it and made it more pronounced. ¡°Ha, ha, ha, you said it, Gov! We know each other only short time, and already we are good friends! Thank you for advice on armor!¡± Govannon shoved Brin¡¯s arm away, but already many of the hostile stares were now giving him equal time with Brin. He said nothing, though, and took his place in line and seemed to be trying to make himself disappear based on sheer willpower. Hedrek barked a scornful laugh at Brin¡¯s armor, but Cid only gave it a considering glance before clearing his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll take your Oaths now.¡± Rhun stepped up first, giving Brin a chance to hear the oath he would be expected to swear. To his relief, it wasn¡¯t a System Oath, just a normal promise. He didn¡¯t love the fact that he had to swear fealty to anything, but it came with the business of joining a martial Order, so he couldn¡¯t complain after coming all the way here. It took him by surprise a little bit that he¡¯d be swearing directly to Cid and not to the Order or the nation. That meant that if Cid decided to rebel against the order, he¡¯d be expected to follow him, but apparently that¡¯s how they liked to organize things here. Brin said, ¡°Gurthcid Trevorrow, I render you my fealty. I will obey all lawful commands and give you my service. To you, I dedicate my life.¡± ¡°Brin isu Yambul, I accept your oath. I will return loyalty for loyalty and service for service. Be welcome in my Lance. Stand as a man among men.¡± Alert! You have earned an Achievement: Knightly (Common) You have joined a martial order. You can assign your status to positively identify yourself as a member of the Order of the Long Sleep. This achievement will grow as you gain merit in your Order. Once that was done, Cid stood to the side, not facing anyone and said almost to himself, ¡°I had in mind to head up to Allexi¡¯s hill.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± said Brin. Only, that didn¡¯t seem to be the response Cid was waiting for, because everyone stared at Brin in awkward silence for a long moment. Finally, Hedrek cast Brin one last disgusted look before saying, ¡°You heard him. Let¡¯s move out!¡± All ten of them moved as one, following Cid out of the fortress at a steady run. In his old world, this would¡¯ve been a sprinting pace for Brin even without the armor, but here it was a nice jog and the armor was barely an inconvenience. After the first half mile, Brin got the hang of running so that his armor didn¡¯t jangle or chafe so much, and it was smooth from there. They cleared the keep quickly, and soon they were running across an open field. He noticed that the guys were naturally going two by two in the order of their rank, so he ran up near the front with Cid. Now that they were moving and their destination seemed to be a good distance away, Brin took the time to split off his mind and send out some frantic Invisible Eyes to find another Lance. He¡¯d assumed that he¡¯d be ranked near the bottom and that he¡¯d be able to pick things up with everyone else, but now it seemed he¡¯d been thrust into some kind of leadership role with no idea of what he should be doing. The manual was little help. It was hopelessly vague in most cases, ¡°The second serves at the pleasure of the Prime in aiding the Lance in implementing the Prime¡¯s vision.¡± Other times it was absurdly specific, ¡°At a canter while at a peaceful standing, the knight-at-arms will never comport his arms in a way that leaves less than two hand-breadths between each hand.¡± He needed to see what life in a real Lance actually looked like. Someone had to know what he was doing wrong. The first Lance he found was a group of veterans, with the youngest nearly thirty years old. They all seemed like they¡¯d known each other for a long time; a tight group of friends. He didn¡¯t see anyone giving orders at all. They all knew their jobs and did it without direction from the Prime. It also didn¡¯t help that they weren¡¯t exactly busy. He needed another example. Soon after, he found them. Back in the keep, a younger Lance was together in the practice yard. They were all practicing the same set of parries against imaginary opponents. Their Prime was looking on from the side of the yard, while the Second marched back and forth, shouting. ¡°Not like that, Irf! For the last time, keep the point of your sword towards your opponent at all times. Should you fling his weapon away, you¡¯ll want your sword to already be in the right direction to capitalize¡­ good! Yes, like that again!¡± After a while, he saw the Second give the Prime a questioning glance, only for the Prime to subtly shake his head. ¡°Not good enough!¡± the Second roared at the men. ¡°We¡¯ll keep going until Irf gets it right a hundred times in a row! And I better not see anyone else mess up or it¡¯ll be another hundred!¡± After ten more minutes of practice, the Prime said, ¡°Well done, everyone.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it, step back and swords away!¡± the Second called. ¡°We¡¯ll take a ten minute break and then move onto thrusts.¡± Oh. So it was that kind of thing. The Prime would give a general strategy, and it was the Second¡¯s job to break that down into specific orders. No wonder Cid always seemed to be waiting for Brin to say something. It occurred to him that the role of the Second was to be the most isolated man on the team, the person that everyone hated. The Prime was really in charge, but he wasn¡¯t going to shout the orders that made everyone grit their teeth in distaste, that would be up to Brin. What had Galan intended by giving this job to Brin? He could do nothing but trust him; despite all appearances, he still believed that Galan wanted what was best for him. In fact, knowing this was more of a relief than anything. He knew what part he was supposed to play, and he¡¯d make sure to play it well. He kept a few eyes on the other Lances, just to see what else he would glean, but pulled back the majority of his brain to his main thread. He needed it just to keep up with the language barrier. He killed time by idly coating his armor with glass as he ran, which gave it a very nice, glossy texture and made it look a lot fancier than it really was. He doubted he¡¯d get access to a [Glasser] workshop any time soon, so summoned glass was as good as he would get. At least he still had his Bog Standard spear. The run was more fun now that he felt a little more confident that he knew his role. It was a nice day, with a cool breeze, and they were only going uphill around half the time. Once they got a little bit of elevation, the view was spectacular. Prinnash was a land of pasture and mountains, with nothing in between, and the wide spaces between the mountains gave a view that seemed to go on forever. He could see the keep, then a few much nicer and larger ones past that, as well as the army mustering down below, the armor of the men shining in the sunlight like glitter. ¡°How do you fare?¡± asked Cid. ¡°Fine, thanks!¡± said Brin. Then he realized that might not have been the point of the question and used an Invisible Eye to look back at the men. Some of them were heavily winded. Most of them were, actually, with the exception of the two [Knights] and the [Porter]. He was carrying a large pack in addition to wearing a full kit of armor, but seemed to have not even broken a sweat. The [Rogue], on the other hand, seemed like he was on his last legs. Brin let his pace lag a bit, falling behind to talk to him. Hedrek clapped his pauldron. ¡°Ha! You missed the initial training, but they did this sort of thing every day! We decided to give you a good workout to show you what you missed.¡± ¡°Sounds fun! And when will that start?¡± Brin asked, quite sincerely before even realizing what an amazing comeback that had been. He really had been thinking of this as a nice, refreshing little warm up run, but for someone without his stats it was probably hellish. Grinning, he slowed down again, until he was side-by-side by the [Rogue]. [Inspect] called him Brych Faughn, and he was the highest leveled one here after the [Knights], at level 22. He should definitely have the attributes to make this doable, so maybe motivation was the problem? ¡°You look tired. Are you tired, Brych?¡± ¡°No, sir,¡± Brych panted out. ¡°If you get too tired let me know, ok? I¡¯ll carry you. I¡¯m getting kind of bored,¡± said Brin. ¡°No, sir,¡± said Brych. He was already standing straighter, and even though Brin had meant to keep his voice down, he¡¯d obviously been overheard because the entire Lance seemed to suddenly be in better spirits. ¡°It¡¯s really no trouble,¡± said Brin. ¡°Not¡­ necessary¡­ Sir!¡± Brych said, still panting heavily. ¡°Then you must be bored,¡± said Brin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll ask Cid if we can do some real training after this.¡± ¡°Yes sir!¡± said Brych. When Brin retook his position next to Cid, the Prime increased the pace and this time no one looked to be in any danger of falling behind. When they stopped, Brin was ready. As soon as Cid started to slow to a walk, Brin shouted, ¡°Halt! Take a break! Walk it out. Get some water. But be ready to move again in ten minutes! We have lots of fun things to do today.¡± Despite him telling them to walk it off, a few of the men collapsed on the ground as soon as they stopped running. The [Porter] set down his pack and fished out a canteen, to pass around the group. They were on top of the largest foothill near the mountain. On one side, Brin could see the army they had come from, and on the other hand the wilderness of Prinnash stretched forth in a straight and long valley as far as the eye could see. He saw one little village, probably no more than a hundred people, and only a few patches of trees. Cid said to Brin, ¡°I believe you may have made a promise on my behalf. Something about real training?¡± ¡°I only promised to talk to you about it,¡± said Brin. ¡°Oh? Then do so.¡± ¡°I will, thank you. Gurthcid, sir, can I have your permission to lead the Lance in some real training?¡± Cid nodded. ¡°Train away.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 20 Brin couldn''t help but feel like he was at a disadvantage here; he''d sort of implied that the training he would put them through was better than whatever the [Knights] regularly did, but he had no idea what that was. Worse, he also had no equipment and no prep time. Logically, something like aerobics and isometric exercises would work well here, but that didn''t feel right. [Knights] didn''t need to do planks. [Knights] needed to lift weight. His first idea was to have them haul tree trunks around, since that''s something he''d done with Davi, but the trees nearby were thin and knobby. He didn''t think they''d work very well for what he had in mind. Then he remembered they were atop the foothill of a mountain. There was rock everywhere. Good rock, too. The mountains near his home in his old world had been made of lots of sandstone and shale, which tended to form long, flat plates. The rock here was coarse and round, more like granite, and already Brin could see several nicely spherical-shaped boulders. He could work with that. Since he''d already promised them a ten minute break, he left them to inspect one of the rocks. It took a lot less effort to pull it out of the ground than he expected. In his past life a job like this would''ve taken hours, complete with lots of digging. Now, he simply pulled it up and the entire thing came free. The stone was a little bigger than a basketball and he''d guess around a hundred and fifty pounds. He hoped it was heavy enough to challenge some of the lower-leveled men. He couldn''t use something much bigger or it would be too hard to work with. Then just to see if it would work, he put a handle on top, summoning it with glass. He let the glass coat a large section of the stone, murmuring encouragement in the Language for it to sink into all the little holes and crevasses. When he picked it up by the handle, he was pleased to see that it managed to hold the stone up, though he sensed the strain on the handle had it near breaking. He had to pump a good deal of Mana into the glass to strengthen it enough, but when he finished he was pleased with the result. A fairly functional kettlebell. He spotted two more stones of the appropriate size, and pulled them from the ground. He split two pieces off of his mind and instructed them to summon handles in the same way. Taking the kettlebell he''d already completed, he brought it to the [Warrior] and said, "Try this." He lifted it in a curl up and then handed it over. The [Warrior] was level 13, and named Aeron Flint. Aeron took the stone by the handle and the strain immediately showed on his face through the helmet. He clenched his jaw and scowled in concentration, and managed to mimic the curl-up somewhat smoothly as if it had cost him no more effort than it had Brin. "Good!" said Brin and clapped him on the shoulder, and turned to speak to all of them. "You know, you Prinnashians are very rich! Where I come from, you have to dig down hundreds of feet to find stones like this. And you have such treasure laying around where anyone can pick them up." Brin [Inspected] the [Hunter] to get his name. "Anwir, find us seven more stones about this size please. Aeron, Meredydd, help him." They looked at Cid first, who nodded with a shrug, and then they turned away to search. "In the meantime, I''ll be showing you all what we can do with these treasures. Oh, but first, Brych!" The [Rogue] was only starting to pick himself up from the ground, and he glowered at Brin in suspicion. He was short and stocky, and looked mean and tough. "Your role in this Lance is maybe the most important, true? You are our eyes and ears. Your fine [Rogue] senses will warn us of danger and keep us from stumbling into traps," said Brin, still awkwardly falling over his words in Prinnashian. Brych looked left and right, perhaps trying to figure out if Brin was mocking him or not, but he got no answer in the blank, tired stares from the other members of the Lance. "Alright," he said. "Tell me, are there any dangerous creatures nearby?" Brin asked. "No," Brych said with a dismissive laugh. "What creatures do you sense nearby?" Brin asked. "Three birds. A mole. A snake," said Brych. Brin''s Invisible Eyes had already spotted the birds. He pointed them out. "Two sparrows there, and I think a raven over there. Is that right?" "Yes," said Brych. "Describe the snake," said Brin. "It''s just a common ground snake! Just over there!" said Brych, growing annoyed. "Fine. Tell me if anything else approaches," said Brin. The [Hunter] had already found another stone the right size, and he and the others were working on trying to pull another out of the ground. The [Porter] saw their struggle and handed them a shovel, and then joined in on helping them. Even though he actually hadn''t told him to do that, Brin was glad to see it; that kind of initiative should be encouraged in the long run. The [Porter] then pulled the next three boulders out of the ground on his own with his bare fingers, and carried them all together to drop at Brin''s feet, as easily as Brin himself would have. Brin [Inspected] him. Name: Cowl Candle Age: 15 Level: 15 Class: Porter Description: Cowl is a specialist at moving and transporting goods, as well as being a deft hand at many of the menial tasks required for setting up camp and keeping equipment in good condition. Skills: Carry [30] - Cowl can carry all objects or goods as if they only weighed a fraction as much. Transport [46] - The space inside the bags and boxes Cowl carries is increased on the inside, by an extra 142%. Well that was a useful Class! He would never consider it for himself, but he could absolutely appreciate someone else having it. Brin [Inspected] Cowl''s backpack and found nothing special about it. Enchanting a bag to give extra holding space was ludicrously expensive, but apparently you could get around that by hiring someone with the specialized Class. It was also a bit sad; he was part of a Lance but his Class didn''t say anything about combat. Would he even join the fighting, or was he just a servant? "Thank you, Cowl," said Brin. "But I think you can stop there. Nine will be good enough." He had a suspicion that a regular stone wasn''t going to work on someone like Cowl. Instead, he summoned one all out of glass. He probably could¡¯ve summoned all of these out of glass, but that would¡¯ve taken a huge chunk of his Mana and he had a feeling he would need it before the day was through. "Here, try this one," said Brin, and handed Cowl the one made of glass. At the same time, he used glass magic to push it downward at a steady pace to simulate weight. Cowl grabbed it confidently, but then his eyes bulged and the weight of it pulled him to the ground where it landed with a thunk. It looked like [Carry] only helped when carrying objects; it wouldn''t do anything to negate the force of someone who was pulling against him. Brin assigned the task of pulling the glass ball downward to a Directed Thread and then passed out the rest of the kettlebells. To Hedrek and Cid he said, "I made these for you, but I don''t know if this will be effective to someone at your Strength. You can follow along if you want, though, so that you''ll know the exercises." Hedrek kept his arms folded, saying nothing, while Cid picked one up lightly and said, "And what are we to do with these?" Brin turned to the rest of the Lance and leaned into his Frenarian accent a little bit more. Would it also be too much to deepen his voice a little? He figured it couldn''t hurt, and set another Directed Thread on the job. "I know what you''re all thinking. Normally you do a job, and one group of muscles gets tired while the rest of your body is totally fine. Well today, we''re going to make sure to work every single muscle in your body!" That elicited a few groans, and Brych said, "Why? We already went through initiation training. We should be done with this!" "That''s the good part! You''re never done. You can always get stronger," said Brin. "Are you going to do it, too?" Brych asked slyly. Brin blinked. Could they really not see that his level was 38? Well, it''s not like he showed off his attributes. There¡¯s no way they would know what [Warbound] had done to his Class. "Of course. How about this? I''ll do twice as many as any of the rest of you." Then when he noticed Hedrek start to look excited he snapped, "Except for you and Cid!" Hedrek looked away, still folding his arms. "Let''s go!" said Brin. He had them do a simple deadlift first, and only to get them used to the weight, stopping after twenty reps. Cowl stared at his heavy glass kettlebell in alarm as if it had grown a face, and only picked it up in the deadlift after Brin yelled at him three times. He was shaky, but Brin thought it was more mental shock rather than physical strain.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. After the deadlifts, he did bent-over rows, overhead presses, chest presses, sit up press ups, and more. He had them do each exercise until failure, and repeated sets when he thought they had more to give. [Athletic Training] came in useful; even though this level of training wasn''t doing a lot to push him, the Skill gave him an instinctive insight into how much punishment he could inflict on his Lance-mates. Sometimes he used the glass handle to help pull a kettlebell up when he thought someone needed to get that last one out to really finish the set. Other times he had to slow a kettlebell as it fell to stop it from breaking or landing on someone''s foot. Cid and Hedrek joined in. Cid looked like he really wanted to try it out, and Hedrek probably only joined out of boredom. As Brin had expected, neither of them really seemed to be straining to keep up, and they each did however many repetitions that Brin did, which was twice the amount of anyone else. At first, he thought Rhun might actually be able to challenge him; he was much stronger than anyone else in the Lance, but at the end of the day Brin''s levels won out. He was able to do forty press ups to Rhun''s twenty without breathing too heavy or showing noticeable difficulty, and the rest of the exercises were about the same. Brin stayed away from too many leg exercises, since they still had to run back to headquarters, but overall he was satisfied. After an hour of brutal punishment, he figured he''d given everyone a decent workout. Even with Vitality bending the rules of the human body, he was sure they''d all be sore tomorrow. As he set his kettlebell down, thinking about if they should do more squats after all, he felt a familiar weight press against his leg on the inside where the armor didn''t touch. Marksi was so well-camouflaged that even now Brin could barely see him. He picked the little guy and hugged him against his face. He heard a gasp, but focused on delivering pats to his little buddy. "Where''ve you been all day! I missed you! Little rascal." Marksi was completely unrepentant, but was happy to receive the attention. "Where did that... what is that?" asked Anwer the [Hunter], pointing at Marksi with a shaky finger. Brin looked up and was amused to see all the looks of shock and alarm. Rhun was also clearly enjoying this, having also been put on the backfoot by Marksi more than once. "Good question. Brych, what is this?" Brych hunched over when everyone''s eyes went to him. "What? I don''t know!" "I asked you to keep an eye out for dangerous creatures, didn''t I? Marksi here is a dragon," said Brin. Brych spluttered. "He... he just popped out of the air!" "He''s sneaky. But Brych, you''re our main defense against sneaky creatures. You think Arcaena is above sending in creatures like this?" Cid broke in. "It''s a good lesson. For all of us. Staying vigilant and keeping an eye out isn''t Brych''s duty alone. I¡¯ll expect each of you to do better. Don¡¯t become so consumed in your task that you forget who and where you are." He stared at each of the men in turn, and they all nodded at him one by one. "I wonder if now would be a good time for lunch," said Cid. "Time for a break!" Brin called out. "Good work, all of you. As for lunch, I''m not sure... how that works." Hedrek snorted in disgust. "Cowl, you need a fire?" Cowl was startled out of staring at his glass kettlebell in equal parts fear and revulsion. "N-no. We''ll do cold cuts, I think." He set his pack down and drew out a folding table which Hedrek set up. Working together, they set out a cutting board, a side of ham and a slab of roast beef, both wrapped in paper. They cut slices of each, heaped them onto slices of hard, dark bread, and passed it out to everyone. They started with the Dectant, Govannon, and worked their way up the ranks, serving himself last. Without any real chairs or even any handy fallen logs, one of the [Warriors] had the idea to use a kettlebell stone as a chair, and the rest followed suit. Everyone ate quickly, as if afraid that he or Cid would take their lunch away if they didn¡¯t tuck it away quickly enough, but then when everyone was done, Cid made no move to give further orders and they began to relax and even chat a little bit amongst themselves. The conversations drew Brin¡¯s attention to the ones who didn¡¯t seem to have friends here. Govannon the [Page] stared silently at the ground, and Brych the [Rogue] leaned his head on his palm, looking bored. Of course, no one spoke to Brin either, until Cid asked him, ¡°Why a series of different exercises? The System is more likely to award points to those who complete a single feat of Strength.¡± ¡°Those feats are hard to plan. It¡¯s better to take advantage of things when they come up than try to¡­¡± Brin wanted to say ¡°to instigate a feat artificially¡± but didn¡¯t know the words in Prinnashian. ¡°...to force it to happen. This training is for building muscle.¡± ¡°It obviously didn¡¯t work for you, though,¡± said Hedrek. Brin flexed his bicep, which no one could see under the armor anyway, and clapped a hand to it. ¡°If you¡¯d seen where I was starting from, you¡¯d know how well it did work. Besides, I¡¯m just coming into a growth spurt.¡± Hedrek laughed in derision. ¡°Everybody says that.¡± Brin just shrugged. He knew when someone was trying to get under his skin and he¡¯d honestly been expecting worse. Well, no, he was planning on worse. Cid stood up, and then when the Prinnashians automatically moved to follow, he said, ¡°No, no, remain seated. I think it¡¯s time we had a bit of a chat.¡± All conversation immediately died down, and Brin had to admit Cid at least looked like a [Knight]. He had a presence about him, which was an achievement at eighteen years old. He didn¡¯t seem to talk much, but when he did everyone stopped to listen. He held both hands behind his back and faced them like a college lecturer. ¡°This topic may be uncomfortable for some of you, I know especially in Prinnash this is taboo, but we need to talk about your Classes. Part of being in an Order is accepting that the Order will have a say in the way that you grow and develop. This is to your benefit. You now have access to centuries of refined wisdom in regards to Skills and evolutions. So now my question. How many of you hope to take [Squire]? By show of hands.¡± Everyone except Brin and Hedrek raised their hands. Cid clenched his jaw seeing them all go for it, but when he looked at Brin there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. ¡°Thank Eridu for small blessings.¡± Brin hesitated. ¡°Do you think I could still make [Squire]? It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t want to¨C¡± ¡°No,¡± Cid said coldly. ¡°Now, the rest of you, keep your hands in the air unless you¡¯ve changed your mind. And I hope some of you will. I¡¯m sure you are all already aware, but this isn¡¯t the typical composition of a Lance. Usually we have four or five [Knights] at most, supplemented by support Classes, taken from the best of the best of the regular army. I could really use some of those Classes. An [Axe Master] or a [Lancer] especially.¡± No one put their hands down, so Cid continued on. He looked at the [Hunter], Anwir. ¡°Our ranged capabilities are especially vital. If we have no one who can hold a bow, we may as well resign ourselves to death and failure.¡± Brin could have chimed in about how well his glass javelins worked at range, but figured this wasn¡¯t the time for that. Anwir said, ¡°Can a [Knight] hold a bow, my lord?¡± ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no reason why not,¡± said Cid, stroking his chin. ¡°But please remember that a [Knight] is a sir, and that includes you now.¡± ¡°Yes sir,¡± said Anwir, and kept his hand in the air. ¡°That does lead me to another point. Perhaps you all think that being a [Knight] will improve your status. This is not so. As of this morning, you are all knights-at-arms, with all the rights and honors of any other knight. Receiving the actual Class will not change this.¡± No one put their hand down, but Cowl the [Porter] started to shrink under Cid¡¯s gaze, lowering his hand by a few inches. Cid looked at Brych the [Rogue]. ¡°To be honest, a [Knight] with slightly better than average senses would never be as useful to me as a [Scout].¡± Brych gulped, but didn¡¯t lower his hand. Brin was glad he didn¡¯t give up. The Lance honestly didn¡¯t need a [Scout] with Brin¡¯s Invisible Eyes, but it¡¯s not like he could tell them that. Cid turned to Meredydd next. ¡°Your [Armsman] Class may be our best asset here, even more valuable than a [Scout] would be. You¡¯ve evolved [Smith] into a combat Class, but if you lean back towards smithing, the maintenance of our weapons and armor may well save all of our lives. Will you really deprive me of this?¡± Meredydd seemed shame-faced, but didn¡¯t put his hand down. Cid looked at Rhun next. ¡°Your level is fairly high to start a new Class. You may miss some of the vital Skills that a [Knight] usually earns at low levels. There¡¯s also another issue. You took [Iron Body] and not [Blade Mastery]. Why?¡± Brin wondered how Cid knew that. The Order must have some sort of intelligence-gathering apparatus that he wasn¡¯t aware of. Rhun looked aghast at having his build called out like that, but puffed out his chest and tried to look confident. ¡°I am as good with the blade as any [Warrior] with [Blade Mastery], and I have mastered the blade on my own, through vigilance and practice. Turning my skin to iron is something I could never do, no matter how much I practice.¡± ¡°You can cover your skin with actual iron. It¡¯s redundant. And be warned: The standard method of advancement of [Knights] in the Order of the Long Sleep requires us to merge [Blade Mastery] with a [Knight] Skill. You might never be able to earn our hallmark Skill: [Inexhaustible]. Why not consider a natural evolution from [Warrior]. In addition to [Axe Master] and [Lancer], you might also consider [Duelist]. I¡¯m told you have a fondness for such things.¡± ¡°Are [Knights] stronger than [Duelists] or [Lancers]?¡± Cid shook his head. ¡°Not necessarily. [Knights] level slower. Since they are more powerful level for level, they take larger feats of valor to gain levels. [Knights] require knightly challenges. Should you keep [Warrior], you will shoot up in levels far faster than your peers.¡± Brin knew the answer to that. Rhun would grow in levels faster until he hit a roadblock. Eventually, he would stop being as strong as any of the monsters at his own level, and then he¡¯d hit a plateau. That was probably why most people stopped leveling in the thirties: the challenges that it took to grow past thirty just weren¡¯t worth it. Rhun stubbornly kept his hand in the air. Cid raised his eyes to the heavens. ¡°Will no one relent and give me a useful Class?¡± Govannon the [Page] looked completely sure of himself, but the rest all had some amount of hesitation in their features. They all stayed sitting with a hand in the air, though some hands started to tremble. Brin wondered if some part of that was the intense workout he¡¯d put them all through. Cowl the [Porter] broke first, and let his hand fall. ¡°Put it back up, you fool!¡± Cid snapped. Confused, Cowl raised his hand back up again. ¡°Oh, put them all down, please,¡± said Cid. He rubbed his eyes. ¡°Listen, the normal way of setting up a Lance is to protect the precious blood of noble sons by surrounding them with high-level commoners, and to temper the fire of youth with experience and wisdom. I see no experience or wisdom here, so I¡¯ve decided to work with what I¡¯ve got. ¡°Make no mistake; [Knight] is a Class unlike any other. Operating a Lance with nine [Knights] will be a challenge, to be sure, but if we can pull it off we¡¯ll have the best damned Lance that this Order has ever seen.¡± Rhun leapt to his feet and yelled, ¡°Huzzah!¡± The others followed suit, banging fists against their breastplate and cheering. ¡°Just think of it! Nine [Knights]!¡± said Hedrek. ¡°If only that were ten¡­¡± The cheers died down and a quiet tension grew in its place. Hedrek looked around. ¡°What? I know you¡¯re all thinking it. Where does a Common glassmaker fit into a Lance of [Knights]? As a Second? Really?¡± He spit on the ground. Brin¡¯s instincts were to just shrug this off and ignore it; that¡¯s how he would have dealt with this in his old world. But that wasn¡¯t going to work here. If he was really going to be Second, then he would have to be the one shouting orders all the time. He needed everyone to listen to him, including Hedrek. Especially Hedrek. Brin flicked his fingers as if brushing away a speck of dirt. ¡°Earn some merit and gain some levels before you talk to me about who belongs in a Lance.¡± ¡°I have thirty levels as a true man. You have levels in what? Blowing glass? You going to make me a fancy mirror or a little tinkling bell?¡± said Hedrek. ¡°Keep this up, and I will ring you like a bell.¡± Brin stepped up close until they were nearly nose to nose. To his surprise, Hedrek put both hands in the air and then stepped back. But then once he had space he drew his sword. ¡°Prime, I feel that this morning¡¯s activities didn¡¯t give me the workout I was hoping for. Perhaps you¡¯d allow me to indulge in a bit of light sparring.¡± ¡°That sounds like a grand idea,¡± said Brin, pulling out his spear. ¡°I¡¯m feeling a bit restless as well.¡± ¡°You need not do this,¡± Cid said to Brin. ¡°I think we both know that I kind of do,¡± Brin murmured back. ¡°Then I¡¯ll remind you both that friendly spars do not generally end in drastic injury or death,¡± said Cid. ¡°Of course,¡± said Brin. ¡°Naturally,¡± said Hedrek. The men made space and Brin and Hedrek squared off. Since this wasn¡¯t a duel, no one would call the start to the fight. Brin split his mind, called on his magic, and prepared himself for some friendly sparring. Book 4 - Chapter 21 Brin was fairly certain he could take a level 30 [Warrior] without too much trouble just based off raw stats, but he wasn¡¯t sure what a [Knight] could do and Hedrek kept his status locked down tight. The biggest issue was the armor. It wasn¡¯t raw steel like Brin¡¯s; Hedrek had real armor. Though it was plain in design, it practically thrummed with magical energy. He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d be able to break through it, and he wasn¡¯t willing to sacrifice his Bog Standard spear the way that he had with his glass spear against Aberfa. Hedrek didn¡¯t give him time to plan. He launched himself forward, sword swinging. Brin defended against a wild assault, with Hedrek¡¯s sword seeming to come from everywhere at once. Each strike landed with force that made Brin¡¯s bones tremble, and he barely managed to parry and block the oncoming strikes. The haft of his spear deflected the sharp steel sword well, but Brin didn¡¯t trust it against a full-force swing, so he had to nudge the sword aside rather than block as often as possible. Hedrek chopped down with a wild overhand strike that Brin had to jump to avoid, and it stuck Hedrek¡¯s sword a foot into the ground. He roared and pulled it out, spraying dirt into Brin¡¯s eyes. He only blinked for half a second, but in that time Hedrek closed on him in a side sweep. Hedrek¡¯s sword left a notch in the haft of his spear that had partially blocked it and made a clang as it hit the armor on Brin¡¯s shoulder. Brin kicked Hedrek, knocking him back, but he recovered and launched himself forward again, sword swinging like a madman. Despite the power of the blows, they weren¡¯t especially quick. Brin was stronger, and probably had more Dexterity, too. Something else was making the sword hit harder. Growing confident, Brin moved to the attack, taking advantage of openings. He rang the glass of his spearhead against Hedrek¡¯s breastplate, and then did it again. Hedrek stepped back on reflex, opening up some space, though of course Brin was nowhere near penetrating that armor. They circled each other for a moment, calculating, and now that he had a moment to breathe, Brin realized something was strange. Hedrek didn¡¯t fight like someone with [Blade Mastery]. He fought with a berserker fury, almost like [Blade Mastery] had given him perfect form and then he¡¯d forced himself to learn how to fight poorly again. It was effective, since Brin never knew what to expect. But what was really happening here? Now that he¡¯d seen some sort of Skill being used, maybe [Inspect] would show him what it was. He tried and¨Csuccess! [Path of the Blade] The second step on the path to true mastery. This Skill heavily increases a blade¡¯s striking power in exchange for making it more difficult to control. Imbue the blade with mana to increase its striking power further. Inspect +1 All things being equal, Brin thought that he could win against Hedrek sword-to-spear, but all things weren¡¯t equal. He didn¡¯t have a good way through that armor, not fighting like he was. He had no doubt that Hedrek would be able to chop through his own unmagical steel. As much as he¡¯d like to show off and beat a [Knight] with sheer strength of arms, that wasn¡¯t going to happen. He¡¯d had to use his magic. Main: Screen me Task Manager: Growing screen This little program was deceptively simple; it was one of the things he¡¯d come up to pull off an illusion trick without using any [Illusionist] magic. It put up a paper-thin panel of glass in front of the opponent. They¡¯d see it as a transparent sheet of glass, but it was really a perfect print of a photo from Hedrek¡¯s point of view. Hedrek saw Brin standing still behind a thin sheet of glass. In reality, Brin was running the other direction as fast as he could to give himself some space. ¡°Break it! Quick!¡± Brych shouted, being the first to catch on. Cheater! True, calling out advice was fine during a friendly spar, but he should know that this was a duel in all but name. Hedrek cautiously jabbed at it, tilting his head back as if he¡¯d been expecting some kind of trick. It shattered, and then he saw that he was right about the trick; just not a bomb or something like he¡¯d been expecting. ¡°Hey! Get back here!¡± Brin stopped and turned. He¡¯d given himself about fifty feet. The ground started to tilt downward behind him, heading back down the hill. This would have to be enough. He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a handful of marbles. They really were just glass marbles; if he was going to keep pretending to be a [Glass Invocationist] he needed to look like he was using glass items at least some of the time. He didn¡¯t plan on hiding the fact that he¡¯d evolved his Class from [Glasser], but he still needed to lean towards items. One thing he¡¯d found was that doing it this way was actually very beneficial. It was a lot more cost effective to summon glass if he used a starter. He tossed the marbles, scattering them. Each of them had already been pre-assigned a signature; anyone who [Inspected] one of his marbles would see ¡°Seed of Mirror Man - This glass ball can be used by a [Glass Invocationist] to create a glass duplicate of the caster.¡± That done, he sent his orders to his threads. Main: Army of Glass. One for every marble. Task Manager: Initiating. Stand By. Was that enough? He decided to do another for good measure. From another pouch, he pulled out a few glass darts he¡¯d premade and threw them in the air. These were really just a misdirection; trying to create a hundred starters for this spell just wasn¡¯t worth it.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Main: Hail of Glass. Empower with Language. Task Manager: Activating. He shouted, ¡°Feel the wrath of my army of glass!¡± and then the Mouth Manager took over, moving Brin¡¯s lips to words of Language. ¡°¡± Hedrek seemed paralyzed by indecision as Brin¡¯s two spells were casting, and only started to charge forward right as the hail of glass darts hit him. He stopped and crouched down, shielding himself with his arms. The glass hit hard and plinked off his armor like a hundred raindrops. Surely some of them would get through the gaps, though. Brin kept an eye on [Battle Fury]. The storm of glass darts ran dry, and Brin didn¡¯t see [Battle Fury] tick up by a single percentage. The armor had blocked everything. How? He took control of some of the darts and started to climb them up Hedrek¡¯s armor. If he could get inside the armor and then grow the glass he¡¯d be able to injure him from there. At the very least he¡¯d be able to lock down the movement. He wriggled the slivers of glass up Hedrek¡¯s body like snakes, worming their way into the gaps, finding all the little pores and openings and¡­ They were gone. One by one, he lost the connection to every single piece of glass that touched Hedrek¡¯s armor. It had some kind of anti-magic enchantment. Unfair. Well, it didn¡¯t matter. His glass army was ready. A dozen Brins stood between Hedrek and the real Brin. They carried a variety of weapons; spears, axes, and swords. They swung their weapons in flourishes or made rude gestures, taunting him. All except one, who held a spear that looked just like the real Brin¡¯s and pretended to be trying to sneak away. That was his best decoy, Brin¡¯s real body was jeering and taunting like the rest. It was too bad he had to stay silent, though. Hedrek reflexively swung his sword at the nearest copy, who jumped back to avoid the strike. ¡°What is this?¡± Brin put a sphere of silence around his mouth and started casting again. This one he did with his own mind and his own voice. For complex spellwork it was fine to pass it off to a thread, but for his most powerful strike he had to do it himself. He¡¯d pump as much Mana he could spare into one big spell. He summoned a javelin, putting it up his sleeve and letting it then fall into his hand so he could pretend it had already been there. He assigned its status with some nonsense about a really powerful artifact that only a [Glass Invocationist] could use, and then got to work. While Brin chanted, his Mirror Men formed a circle around Hedrek and pressed in. Hedrek swung wildly to keep them from grouping up, defaulting to the tactics of one man against many and backing up while keeping ready to defend. The Mirror Men darted in from every side to score glancing blows against Hedrek¡¯s armor. None of their weapons would make a dent in it, but it was doing a good job of pissing him off and keeping him occupied. Every time he swung at one of them, the Mirror Man jumped back to avoid it. Hedrek was fast, but Brin¡¯s magic was faster and since they were each being piloted by a Directed Thread, their reaction time wouldn¡¯t be a weakness either. ¡°What are these? Are these Mirror Images?¡± Hedrek called out in outrage. ¡°They¡¯re made of glass! You have to stop the real guy!¡± It was Brych again, calling out advice that Hedrek didn¡¯t need. Brin finished his spell. ¡°¡± He threw the javelin with all his strength. The glass buckled, the shoddy summoned glass unable to completely contain the insane amount of magic that he¡¯d poured into it, but despite some cracks and glowing waste energy, the bulk of the javelin stayed together. It struck Hedrek like a comet. All of Brin¡¯s glass men jumped back as one to avoid the impact, but a piece of shrapnel still shattered one of them, taking it out of the fight. There was a small cloud of dust and magic, but when it faded Brin saw that Hedrek¡¯s armor had held. Seriously, what would he have to do to beat this guy? It would have to be bludgeoning damage. He¡¯d need to do what he¡¯d threatened and ring Hedrek like a bell. He reached out with his magic to pick up one of the kettlebells, grabbing by the handle he¡¯d made, and flung it at Hedrek. It landed with a loud crash and Hedrek gave a pained grunt, the first sign of actual weakness he¡¯d shown in this fight. Better, [Battle Fury] ticked up; apparently a bruise counted as a wound. Brin grabbed three more, and flung them all at him. He avoided two, but the third caught him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. He leapt back to his feet, cursing, but Brin had another ready to go. When this one hit Hedrek, he dropped his sword and caught it. Brin felt the magical connection cut out, he couldn¡¯t touch the glass on it anymore. Hedrek spun like a shot putter and threw the kettlebell back at Brin. He tried to move, but the stone hit him on the shoulder, flinging him to the ground. [Battle Fury] ticked up again, but Brin didn¡¯t think it was serious. Worse was the fact that Hedrek hadn¡¯t fallen for his decoy. Of course not, he¡¯d seen the real Brin throw the javelin. ¡°There you are. Good. Do you all want to see what a [Knight] can really do?¡± Hedrek called. Brin felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle. This wasn¡¯t good. He could run, but only the steep downward slope of the hill was behind him. Main: Quick Swap Task Manager: Invisibility ready to go. Take DT7¡¯s place, to your right. Swap now. For this spell, Brin kept a couple Directed Threads ready to go with Self-Invisibility and Mirror Images. It was a bit expensive to keep ready for something he never really wanted to have to use, but now he was glad he had it. While Invisible, he ran to the nearest Mirror Man, and sensed that it was moving to take his spot. Before he¡¯d even dropped the illusions, Hedrek blurred. One moment the [Knight] was standing there across the field. The next he was gone. Half of Brin¡¯s mirror men were exploding, their glass flying in the air, whatever had destroyed them already gone. Only then did Brin see where Hedrek had gone. He was to the left, standing in the place Brin¡¯s decoy had only just reached, glass flying in every direction. What was that? Knight¡¯s Charge - Fly forward at great speed with nigh-unstoppable force. The effects of Strength, Vitality, and Dexterity are tripled for the duration of the charge. All powers and effects of this skill are applied to mounts. This Skill begins to lose efficacy at distances greater than two thousand feet. This Skill has a significant stamina cost. If Brin hadn¡¯t swapped with a Glass Man at the last second, he might be meeting Solia right now. A less experienced version of Brin might¡¯ve stood and gawked at that unfair Skill a bit longer, but his mind was split into too many pieces for that. All he knew was: Fight now, think later. He jumped and kicked Hedrek with both legs, then fell onto his back. Hedrek was pushed back a single step, but his foot hit empty air. He probably hadn¡¯t noticed that Brin was right on the edge of where the hill started to slope steeply downward. He waved his arms comically for just a moment and then fell backward to tumble down the hill. You have defeated: Hedrek Trueworthy (30) Experience reduced for a non-lethal sparring match. Book 4 - Chapter 22 It took a surprisingly long time for Hedrek to get back up the hill. That single use of [Knight''s Charge] had completely exhausted him to the point that he¡¯d barely been able to stand in his armor, much less climb a steep slope. Cid told Govannon, ¡°Go tell Hedrek I¡¯ve decided to rest here for a bit. He can rejoin us when we¡¯re ready to depart.¡± Brin got the feeling that he didn¡¯t want anyone to see how exhausted the senior [Knight] was, and unsaid was the fact that Hedrek wouldn¡¯t return until he was recovered enough to fake it. Meanwhile, they waited. Brin used that time to collect all the glass he¡¯d expended in the fight. It was satisfying to see just how much glass he¡¯d been able to summon for the fight, but he couldn¡¯t leave it there. People around here tended to just throw their trash on the ground wherever they happened to be standing, but Brin was not a litter bug. Besides, it was dangerous. The knights with metal shoes would be fine, but Brin bet his glass could cut through the leather of a normal shoe. He quickly created a little tool made of glass, a footlong cylinder that pulsed softly with red light, and assigned a status to it, ¡°Glass Collector.¡± He waved it around and then used the dregs of his Mana to pull all the broken pieces of glass together into a big pile. The biggest pieces were easy to find, but there were hundreds of tiny little shards everywhere, so he found himself going back and forth several times over every inch of ground. When he was finally satisfied that he¡¯d gotten it all, Hedrek still wasn¡¯t back. Brin eyed the oblong mound of glass he¡¯d pushed together. He¡¯d softened all the edges so that it wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone, but it was still ugly. He waved his Glass Collector, and pushed more Mana into [Shape Glass] to straighten the glass up and give it a shape. He formed a figure¨Chimself. Since he wasn¡¯t imprinting a Mirror Image onto the glass he had to mold it himself so it didn¡¯t look perfect, but since his armor was different than anyone else¡¯s he could make it clear it was himself by the general shape of the helmet and coat. He made a glass Brin standing with one foot on top of a defeated glass Hedrek, with both arms in the air. As soon as it started to form up enough that everyone could see what he was doing, Brych, Cowl, and Anwir started to laugh. When Brin looked at them, smiling at his own joke, they all cut off laughing and looked away. Cid sighed and shook his head at Brin, but didn¡¯t tell him to stop so he kept working on the sculpture until Hedrek finally returned. ¡°Ha!¡± Hedrek laughed when he saw the sculpture. ¡°That¡¯s not bad! Well, I have to say, I didn¡¯t know what to expect from a [Glass Invocationist], but it definitely wasn¡¯t that.¡± He spoke casually and moved smoothly, but Brin thought he could tell by the perspiration on his forehead and the glint in his eyes that both were a front. He was still tired and he didn¡¯t want anyone to know it. He was still angry, too, but didn¡¯t want to look like a sore loser. ¡°Thanks,¡± Brin said cautiously. ¡°I did know what to expect, and you didn¡¯t disappoint. It felt like trying to fight a mountain.¡± ¡°Is that how you beat a mountain? By flinging it down another mountain? You know, I figured you for a [Mage] Class, but you¡¯ve got the attributes of a physical Classer. Is all that from carrying around boulders?¡± Brin knew that no one actually expected him to give details about his status even if he was inclined to share, but he could say a little. This part wasn¡¯t actually a secret. He shrugged. ¡°A lot of it¡¯s from that. Some of it¡¯s from a war, and a lot of it is for some weird stuff I got up to before System day.¡± ¡°Oh! I bet you got [Monster Hunter]!¡± said Hedrek. ¡°I did, too.¡± ¡°So did I,¡± said Brych the [Rogue]. ¡°But [Monster Sense] didn¡¯t help me spot your pet.¡± ¡°Marksi isn¡¯t a monster or a pet!¡± said Brin. The little dragon scampered up and down Brin¡¯s statue, looking very impressed. At the sound of his name, he stopped and puffed out his chest, and then pointed at it with a claw. ¡°No way,¡± said Brin. Marksi slumped. ¡°No! People will make statues of you defeating [Knights] when you can actually defeat a [Knight]. I don¡¯t want to give anyone weird ideas before then.¡± Cid cleared his throat. ¡°If that¡¯s all, I believe it¡¯s time to make our descent.¡± ¡°Line up!¡± Brin barked. When the men began to do so, Brin called out. ¡°Wait! Where are you going?¡± They stopped, confused. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you were going to leave your treasures behind. I know you Prinnashian¡¯s are rich, but that doesn¡¯t mean you must be wasteful! Go! Pick them up!¡± Everyone waited, maybe hoping that Cid would say something different, but when their leader just watched the horizon without saying anything, they reluctantly moved back and grabbed the kettlebells he¡¯d made for them. Brin didn¡¯t have a ton of Mana left, but he used every iota that his regeneration gave him on pushing down on the glass one he¡¯d given Cowl the [Porter]. ¡°Now, let¡¯s make it interesting!¡± said Brin. ¡°Like this!¡± He demonstrated keeping the kettlebell on his back, and did a lunging walk, bending his knee nearly all the way to the ground with every step. They groaned and followed suit. Brin started calling out ¡°Left¡± and ¡°Right¡± on each step, making sure to go nice and slow so that they¡¯d be able to lunge all the way down. Cid looked amused and took up his place in the front, doing the exercise along with Brin. Hedrek followed as well, and in his exhausted state, it looked like Brin was finally giving him a workout. The rest of the men looked utterly miserable. They¡¯d been tired out just running here, so doing weighted lunges on the way back would be especially brutal. Well, that¡¯s how you got strong. If they had trouble keeping up, they should just think back to that time they¡¯d been tortured by a psychotic stuffed bunny, powerless to do anything but play along. Or maybe it was just Brin who did that. How did people without traumatic memories motivate themselves at the gym? Brin used an Invisible Eye to look behind him, and whenever anyone did a step without lunging he called back, ¡°Just remember, the first person to get tired will be carried back down the mountain.¡± He got so involved in tormenting his fellow Lancemates that he lost track of time and didn¡¯t notice how long it had been until his legs started to burn from the lunges. If he was getting tired with his stats, then the other guys were probably near death. He allowed himself to be impressed that they¡¯d all kept up this long.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°You know what? I¡¯m getting a bit tired,¡± said Brin. ¡°Let¡¯s take a rest,¡± Cid said quickly, as if it had been at the tip of his tongue for some time now. He probably wasn¡¯t any more tired than Brin was and was getting worried about the men. They all groaned with relief and sank to the ground. Cowl looked just as exhausted as any of them, but after only a minute or two the [Porter] stood again and started distributing canteens of water. When the men lifted their faceplates to drink, they revealed flushed faces and streams of sweat. Hedrek looked especially bad, pale rather than flushed, and his hands trembled so badly that he spilled water as he tried to drink. [Knights Charge] must really take it out of him. Brin decided he might have to scale back a bit in the future; there was such a thing as over-training. But would that really be an issue here? Vitality should help with recovery time. Cid didn¡¯t stand again for nearly an hour, and when he did he said to Brin, ¡°Maybe we can return at a more leisurely pace?¡± ¡°Yes sir,¡± said Brin. ¡°Alright, get up everyone.¡± Brin was gratified to see that everyone picked up their kettlebells without needing to be asked. Everyone started walking when Cid did, but Brin stayed in place. He held his arms out wide. ¡°Well? I said I was tired, didn¡¯t I? Aren¡¯t you going to carry me?¡± Hedrek shoulder-checked Brin as he went by, and Brin allowed himself to be pushed. He laughed, and the men muttered angrily as they passed him. He trotted up and took his place next to Cid. There wasn¡¯t much conversation on the way back, Brin figured everyone was just glad he was done torturing them. He still wasn¡¯t sure if he was doing this right, but he had to admit that today had been a little bit fun. Playing drill master wasn¡¯t too bad, and he¡¯d gotten to see what a [Knight] could do. He now had a counterpoint to what he remembered from seeing Galan fight the undead army back then. Galan was clearly stronger than Hedrek, and he probably had the next level in [Path of the Blade], since Brin only remembered expert control from Galan with none of the berserker wildness that Hedrek had displayed. He¡¯d also never seen Galan use [Knight¡¯s Charge], which made sense. Galan had been conserving his strength back then. But how did that square with the Order of the Long Sleep¡¯s vaunted [Inexhaustible]? It sounded like the Skill should shore up the inherent weakness in [Knight¡¯s Charge], namely that you could only use it once and then you were basically out of the fight. But if Galan was really inexhaustible, then he should¡¯ve been charging around all over the place. He¡¯d figure it out soon enough; he was in the Order now. He was more interested to see what Skill Galan had evolved and what he could do now. Brin also thought through what he could do better the next time he faced a [Knight]. In hand-to-hand combat he figured he was good enough to keep up with their [Path of the Blade], but that didn¡¯t mean anything if he couldn''t find a way through their armor. Were they really just magic-proof? If that was possible, then why didn¡¯t everyone have it? One reason was money; Value Sense told Brin that Hedrek¡¯s armor cost in the order of two thousand gold. But even without the armor, [Knight¡¯s Charge] was a problem. Brin had narrowly avoided being trampled by a last minute glass decoy. He couldn¡¯t always depend on that, but he didn¡¯t see any other way around it. It was too fast to dodge; much faster than Zilly¡¯s [Dash]. The only other option was blocking it, but the System called it ¡°nigh unstoppable¡± and the System didn¡¯t exaggerate. He hadn¡¯t actually felt Death Sense during the fight, but he¡¯d definitely felt the instinctual animal fear of someone in the way of a boulder rolling downhill. He had the feeling that the only reason he wouldn¡¯t have died from the charge was because Hedrek wasn¡¯t actually going for the kill. As they got closer to the castle, Brin¡¯s Invisible Eyes started to pick up a smattering of murmured conversations. Most of it was complaining about how much their feet hurt, but he also found out that every single one of them had picked up at least one attribute point. All of them got a Vitality, but the [Porter] and the [Hunter] also got a Strength. Brin probably wasn¡¯t their favorite person right now, but the stats would go a long way in proving he knew what he was doing. When they arrived back at the castle, Brin followed the group to the barracks where they would be staying. As he¡¯d feared, they¡¯d all be sleeping in the same room. It was oddly nice and spacious for a bunkroom, though. The bunk beds were wide as his bed in Hogg¡¯s house, and tidily made with nice fluffy quilts. Everyone had a lockbox for their personal effects, and Brin¡¯s things had already been taken from his other room and stored here. Maybe most surprising were the servants. Livery-clad servants stood in a row, both men and women, and apparently there was one for each of them. When Brin found his own bed and his chest of belongings to the side, there was a servant waiting for him, too. ¡°Sir, please allow me to assist you with your armor,¡± said the servant. He was a level 20 [Hearthtender], but Brin figured that if you worked for an Order of [Knights] then you probably did a bit of everything. ¡°Um¡­¡± Brin reflexively wanted to refuse anyone who wanted to help him do something as menial as undressing, but he stopped himself. He actually did want to see how they did this. The man noticed his hesitation and said, ¡°Please, sir. It¡¯ll be quick.¡± ¡°No, no. It¡¯s fine. Take your time and show me how to do it right. It¡¯s my first time wearing this kind of armor,¡± said Brin. ¡°As you say, sir.¡± Brin noticed that the servants were as much of a surprise to the other guys as they were to him. Govannon especially seemed embarrassed as his servant was a woman, and he blushed while studiously looking anywhere but at her. Cid and Hedrek both had bed and trunks in the room, but they didn¡¯t stay. A surreptitious Invisible Eye informed Brin that they both had other rooms as well, and that they¡¯d be changing and sleeping in there. Apparently the rooms were for their status as nobility and not for their rank, because Brin wasn¡¯t offered one. The servant worked with practiced efficiency, undoing clasps and pulling off the pieces one by one. Brin made sure to watch every step, even going so far as to use an Invisible Eye when the man was behind him. Seeing how a professional did this would help Brin¡¯s ¡°Iron Man¡± program. He had an easier time of it, since his armor was a bit lighter. For the guys who¡¯d chosen a solid cuirass or a chain coat, they had to bend over and let the servant pull it off. It wasn¡¯t an easy or an elegant process, but everyone acted like they were used to it. They must¡¯ve all helped each other suit up before they¡¯d had servants for this. When they were finished, the servant bundled up Brin¡¯s armor and delica coat in a large sack and said, ¡°This will be laundered and returned before you are finished with supper.¡± So that¡¯s what they were doing. Well, that was good, because Brin was starving. He always seemed to be hungry lately. Hopefully that was a sign that Hogg¡¯s Potion of Time¡¯s Remission was finally kicking, because so far there was no sign it was doing anything. ¡°Does my lord plan to wear a dinner jacket or an overcoat to supper?¡± the servant asked. ¡°You should ask your lord.¡± Brin was certain that the servant had done that on purpose. Lumina had warned him that they¡¯d make little ¡°mistakes¡± like that at first, in order to give him a chance to correct them and establish the master-servant relationship. ¡°As you say, sir.¡± Brin said, ¡°But if you¡¯re asking about me, I¡¯d normally be fine with a dinner jacket, but I¡¯ll need the overcoat if I¡¯m going outside. Which seems to be everywhere in this place.¡± ¡°If I might make a suggestion?¡± ¡°You may.¡± ¡°The weather is warm enough that a dinner jacket should be considered adequate. I¡¯ve taken the liberty of adding a selection to your effects.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± said Brin. ¡°My pleasure, sir. I might also call your attention to the wash basin set out for you, should you decide to bathe before supper. Then by your leave?¡± The servants had set out a bowl full of warm water, soap, and a washcloth for each of them. Despite how Brin had gotten used to full baths and showers living with Hogg, to most people in this world, bathing meant this kind of thing. Thankfully, the servants bundled up the armor and left, so Brin only had to strip down with eight random dudes instead of twenty people including women. He kept his eyes to himself, and washed off quickly; he really had begun to reek even with that light amount of exercise. Someone had set out a fresh set of clothing on his trunk, so Brin dressed quickly. He was ready in minutes, but he didn¡¯t think it would be appropriate to head out on his own, so he waited for the rest of the men to get ready so they could walk together in a group. Some of them were absurdly slow, and Brin¡¯s stomach rumbled as he waited, irritation growing. Getting dressed was something everyone had to do every day! How could some of these guys be so bad at it! When everyone was finally ready, Brin¡¯s patience was nearly at an end, but he forced himself to stay in the middle of the group instead of running on ahead. They walked down the hall, and just as Brin started to smell the warm bread and roasted meat, he saw Cid waiting for him in the hallway. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t let me stop you! I only need a word with my Second. The rest of you go on ahead,¡± said Cid. Cid waited with folded arms until the men were all in the mess, and then said, ¡°I think we should take an opportunity to straighten a few things out.¡± Brin looked with longing towards the door to the mess. Couldn¡¯t they talk in there? No, probably not. His stomach could wait. ¡°Yes. I think we should.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 23
Cid stood staring at him, arms crossed, tapping his fingers against his bicep. Brin waited for him to start. When the silence started to get awkward, Brin said, ¡°Lay it on me, I¡¯m a big boy.¡± ¡°You have no idea how to be a second,¡± said Cid. Brin shrugged. ¡°True.¡± So far, Cid had mostly maintained a bit of aloofness, a cautious calm as he watched everyone and thought things through, but Brin succeeded in actually getting Cid to open his mouth in shock. He quickly closed it again, then said, ¡°Well, don¡¯t look so proud about it!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not proud! I got thrust into this with no preparation. I¡¯ve never even seen a Second before. How am I supposed to act like one?¡± Cid shook his head. ¡°Now you¡¯re just making excuses.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not making excuses. I¡¯m asking for help. Can you tell me what I¡¯m doing wrong?¡± Brin asked. To his credit, Cid actually stopped and considered the question for a minute before shaking his head again, though a bit of the hostility was draining from his features. ¡°It¡¯s not about any one thing you did. It¡¯s you. You¡¯re a crafter or a magic user or both, doesn¡¯t matter. Point is, you¡¯re an intellectual. A thinker. I don¡¯t need a thinker, I need a¡­ a shouty-type guy. I¡¯m supposed to be the one who sits back and thinks about the big picture.¡± Brin nodded. Even minor confrontations like this had a habit of making his pulse skyrocket. When he felt like this he was liable to either fly into a rage or fall over himself apologizing, but he kept his voice even and forced himself to nod slowly. ¡°Ok, first off you¡¯ve really encapsulated me perfectly, well done.¡± ¡°You¡¯re better in Prinnashian than you let on,¡± said Cid. It wasn¡¯t actually like that. He hadn¡¯t been faking it at first, but after immersing himself in the language all day he¡¯d improved by strides. [Traveler] was the Achievement that let him do that, and it wasn¡¯t something he wanted to share, so he said, ¡°I thought the accent might help make me more intimidating.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a terrible idea, I guess,¡± said Cid. ¡°As I was saying, yeah, I can¡¯t argue with the fact that I¡¯m a thinker,¡± said Brin. ¡°Look, do you want me to talk to Galan? Hedrek seems like the perfect second. It¡¯s honestly who he should¡¯ve chosen in the first place.¡± ¡°No!¡± said Cid, with a little too much conviction. Weren¡¯t they best friends? Interesting. ¡°Alright. Then I¡¯ll be the shouty guy. I¡¯ll be the details guy. What else?¡± ¡°What do you mean, what else? You¡¯re supposed to carry out my vision, not just go off on your own doing whatever you want!¡± ¡°Then tell me what your vision is, Cid!¡± Brin said. ¡°You can¡¯t expect me to know what you want me to be doing without a single conversation!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re doing now, so just shut up and listen!¡± Brin wasn¡¯t sure if he could respond without shouting so he folded his arms and waited. Cid sighed. ¡°I have you, Hedrek, and seven idiots who don¡¯t know the sharp end of a poleaxe. They all hate each other so much that two of them literally killed each other on the first day. We need to unite them. Since initiation training didn¡¯t work, I thought maybe I could motivate them with a common goal: the [Knight] Class. I wanted to show everyone how powerful it is so I let Hedrek pick a fight with you, hoping to show everyone how a [Knight] could take down a caster ten levels above him.¡± ¡°And then I won,¡± said Brin. ¡°You didn¡¯t just win. You made him look like an idiot. An empty suit of armor,¡± said Cid. ¡°He didn¡¯t do that bad.¡± ¡°He did.¡± ¡°Well how was I supposed to know? You had just gotten over telling them all that a variety of different Classes would be best for the Lance. I showed them what a non-[Knight] can do,¡± said Brin. ¡°I suppose you did. To be honest, I really wouldn¡¯t hate it if we could get someone to take [Axe Master],¡± said Cid. ¡°Aeron, maybe?¡± ¡°You keep bringing that up. What¡¯s so good about an [Axe Master]?¡± asked Brin. ¡°They get the best anti-armor Skills,¡± said Cid. Brin whistled. He still didn¡¯t have a great solution to armor. ¡°We need an [Axe Master].¡± ¡°You¡¯re telling me!¡± Cid snapped. Brin chuckled and Cid cracked a brief smile. Two men from a different Lance entered the hall, and Brin and Cid paused the conversation until the men walked between them and exited into the mess. ¡°You know Galan from somewhere, right? You have to know. Why is he doing this? He has to know he¡¯s put us both in an impossible situation,¡± Cid said. Brin chuckled. ¡°Oh, I know the answer to that all right. Think about Galan. Think about if he were the one in your situation. Or mine. Would he struggle with this at all? Would he even notice that it was a problem?¡± Cid rubbed his eyes. ¡°Breath of Anshar, you¡¯re right. He¡¯d breeze straight through this. He never needed to learn how to be a [Knight]. It¡¯s in his bones.¡± ¡°May the gods save us from competent commanders,¡± said Brin. ¡°I hope my next commander is a dunce,¡± said Cid. ¡°Careful what you wish for,¡± Brin said nervously. ¡°Alright. So which will it be? Are we making everyone into [Knights], or should I pressure people into taking support Classes?¡± Cid thought for a moment before saying, ¡°I think my initial idea was better. Those support Classes are only good because of the high levels and years of experience that come with them. We need to get a lot stronger, quickly, and [Squire] is the best way to do that.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Just so you¡¯re aware, I can¡¯t give you the full progression path for a [Knight] in the Order unless you mean to take the Class,¡± said Cid. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Brin said, brushing it off. ¡°Tell me about [Squire].¡± ¡°They get [Knight¡¯s Training] and [Ordered Discipline]. One will help them learn to do anything related to knighthood quicker, the other will help them understand orders better,¡± said Cid. ¡°[Page] is similar. See how Govannon took down a [Warrior] with a higher level? It¡¯s a learning Skill that makes someone into that.¡± ¡°Great. [Squire] it is. So what do we do?¡± Cid sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Jori always seemed to know what to do. He never let me in on his decision-making process. Also, I don¡¯t have the Lance that Jori had.¡± ¡°At least you had someone like that! But fine. Pretend Jori was in charge and he was just starting training with a new Lance. His real Lance, not our band of misfits. What would he be doing tomorrow?¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°He¡¯d have a team of experienced fighters, but not all of them would be comfortable on horseback. These first weeks will be showing them the difference between knights-at-arms and soldiers in the army,¡± said Cid. ¡°So horseback training. Can you run that? I know basically nothing about horses,¡± said Brin. ¡°It would be best if it wasn¡¯t me¡­¡± ¡°Hedrek?¡± ¡°I¡­ I guess,¡± said Cid. Brin¡¯s first impression of Cid was that he was sort of a cold, severe-type person, but now he was coming to understand that Cid was just an overwhelmed teenager. He didn¡¯t resent Brin because he was doing everything wrong, he resented him because he really wanted someone more experienced to take over and Brin couldn¡¯t do that. ¡°Can you talk to him?¡± Brin suggested. Cid stood up straighter. ¡°Yes. And if not Hedrek, it¡¯ll have to be Govannon.¡± ¡°It can¡¯t be Govannon,¡± said Brin. ¡°Then it¡¯ll have to be Hedrek,¡± said Cid. Brin¡¯s stomach chose that moment to make an announcement. He was starving. He was starting to feel lightheaded, and fatigue was creeping into his limbs. Before now, hunger had only been a distant companion, no doubt due to Aberthol¡¯s malnutrition. Now his body was telling him that it had been several hours since he¡¯d last eaten and that this state of affairs was completely unacceptable. ¡°Can I make one last suggestion?¡± said Brin. ¡°If you wish.¡± ¡°If I¡¯m going to be the jerk that makes everyone¡¯s life miserable, then you need to be Mr. Nice Guy. Find some time to get a one on one conversation with each of the men; make them feel like you¡¯re looking out for them personally. You want all of them to think they¡¯re your favorite. When we¡¯re out training, you should be the one to call for breaks and give the orders when we¡¯re going to do something fun. Get them used to wanting to follow your orders.¡± Cid blinked in surprise and said, ¡°Yes. I can do that.¡± ¡°Good. Then can we talk about the rest of this over dinner? I¡¯m going to die if we stand here smelling the food much longer,¡± said Brin. ¡°Of course,¡± said Cid, laughing as if Brin had been joking. He definitely hadn¡¯t been. Inside, four long tables were populated sparsely with members of different Lances and a few officers. The far end of the room was made up of a buffet line, not unlike a middle school cafeteria, with servants behind the counters ready to serve their portions. He figured this situation would seem austere to someone from Cid¡¯s situation, and extremely bounteous to the poorer members of the Lance, kind of the way the lunchroom in his old life had separated the rich and poor. That assumption seemed to be correct on first glance. Hedrek¡¯s plate was still nearly full and he mostly ignored it as he made jokes which sent the rest of the Lance roaring with laughter. The others ate quickly, as if the food might disappear if left alone too long. Brin grabbed a plate and let the servants fill it up. Boiled vegetables, a slice of roast beef, and a slice of bread. That didn¡¯t look like enough. Should he ask for more? He wasn¡¯t sure if that was allowed. He got to the table and saw that everyone was sitting together except for Govannon who¡¯d chosen to sit two chairs away from the rest. Brin sat next to him and said, ¡°Thank you for saving my spot!¡± Govannon glared at him and didn¡¯t reply. Brin didn¡¯t mind, since he was more interested in the food anyway. Cid sat next to Brin. ¡°We ought to work out a schedule. I have in mind to introduce the Lance to horsemanship tomorrow, but I¡¯d quite like to continue your attribute training. We also need to leave time for sparring, and they¡¯ll want us to work on codes, decorum, and protocol, not to mention drilling in formations.¡± Brin had a few opinions on how to organize time to maximize gains, but he also didn¡¯t want to stop eating. He gulped his bite of food and said, ¡°What did you have in mind?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Cid outlined a rough schedule for the next few days, and Brin mostly listened, giving a few words of encouragement and peppering him with questions to keep him talking. The rest of the table grew quiet as they listened in, and Brin supposed working out the schedule here had the added benefit of making it so they wouldn¡¯t have to explain all of this again later. To his relief, Cid came up with a pretty reasonable schedule. Despite his insecurity, he did pretty much know how life in a Lance was supposed to go, and once Brin got him talking he grew more confident in outlining his plans. The only problem was that the food ran out much too quickly. Brin idly considered putting an illusion on his face and going through again. Would anyone notice? ¡°...if we can get all that done in three weeks, I¡¯ll be happy,¡± Cid eventually said, wrapping up the unofficial planning meeting. ¡°Why, what happens in three weeks?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll begin drilling with all the Lances of the entire invasion force. It¡¯s sure to be quite the event. I¡¯ve heard that we¡¯ll have a count of two thousand knights. Imagine that! Two thousand of us, all charging together!¡± said Cid, looking a bit dreamy. ¡°Will we all have [Knight¡¯s Charge] by then?¡± asked Aeron the [Warrior]. ¡°Naw,¡± Hedrek said, and slid half a plate of uneaten food away from him. If he wasn¡¯t going to finish that¡­ ¡°Keep in mind, there¡¯s no Lances made up of only [Knights]. There are commander Skills that can propagate the Skill to everyone who¡¯s a knight-at-arms. You¡¯ll all get to see what it feels like. Even the glass-thrower.¡± Everyone seemed to grow excited by that thought, and Hedrek cut through their anticipation, making a chopping motion with his hand. ¡°It¡¯s not as fun as you¡¯re probably thinking. I¡¯ll tell you that right now.¡± ¡°In any case, that¡¯s it for today,¡± said Cid. ¡°Return to your room and retrieve your armor; we¡¯re never without our armor when we¡¯re on duty unless it¡¯s being laundered. After that, you¡¯re all free for the rest of the afternoon.¡± Aeron whooped and stood to run towards the room, and the rest of the men were quick behind him, leaving Cid, Hedrek, and Brin behind. ¡°I¡¯m still hungry,¡± Brin said, eyeing Hedrek¡¯s plate. ¡°Go for it,¡± said Hedrek, waving dismissively. Out of his armor, Brin could now see that Hedrek was big. Stocky, like Davi, and he had a beard that did a good job of helping Brin forget that he was also only eighteen. Brin took the plate eagerly and said, ¡°We could also motivate them with food. Can we speak to the cooks about giving the men extra portions when they do well?¡± This was in no way selfish on Brin¡¯s part; it wasn¡¯t like he was trying to get more food for himself. It was for the good of the Lance. ¡°I suppose, but it¡¯s not really the way. Now that we¡¯re in the Order, we¡¯re supposed to be learning the value of temperance and moderation,¡± said Cid. ¡°To you, this is moderation. To them, it¡¯s a feast,¡± Brin said. Cid scratched his chin. ¡°Hm. I hadn¡¯t considered that.¡± They chatted awhile longer about their plans for the Lance, and then Brin left the mess, still hungry but no longer at the point of dying. Brin returned to the room, where the same servant was waiting to help him dress. At the servant¡¯s suggestion, Brin changed out of his nicer dinner clothes into simple pants and a shirt that could work comfortably under the armor, and then let the servant assist him in getting everything back on. He made sure to ask the servant to not cut any corners, and do everything by the book, in the most proper way possible. As soon as it was done, he set a conscious thread on analyzing the steps to start working on a way to improve his Iron Man spell. By the time he was done, the other guys had all gone their separate ways, so Brin decided to go find Meaty. The man wasn¡¯t in the armory where Brin had first met him, so he sent Invisible Eyes to scour the fortress until he found him in a Smithy nearby. No one guarded the door, so Brin stepped inside and found the [Snow-Blessed Armorer] banging away at a plate of metal against an anvil. ¡°Hi Meaty!¡± Brin called out, and Meaty ignored him until he was done with the sheet of metal. He set it down and said, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you. How¡¯s the armor?¡± ¡°It¡¯s great! I¡¯m surprised at the range of motion, really feels like I¡¯m wearing nothing at all. Oh, and I¡¯m a knight-at-arms, now!¡± ¡°Does that mean you want me to start on your armor, or did you still want to wait for your money to come in?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll wait for the money. I want you to make me something really good when the time comes,¡± said Brin. ¡°Everything I make is really good. But for the right price, I can make something excellent.¡± ¡°I¡¯m counting on it,¡± said Brin, grinning. ¡°If it¡¯s not armor, what brings you in?¡± ¡°Advice. I¡¯m having a really hard time using my magic against armor. Like in a spar with Hedrek today, I couldn¡¯t touch it. Is his armor magic proof? Is that normal?¡± Meaty frowned severely. His wrinkles crossed all the lines in his face, proving that this wasn¡¯t an expression he made often, and even now Brin thought it was in jest. ¡°Are you telling me¡­¡± Meaty began slowly. ¡°That you came to me for advice in undermining my own armor?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± Brin guessed. Meaty smiled. ¡°Then you came to the right place. First off, no, Hedrek¡¯s armor isn¡¯t magic proof. Nothing is magic proof¨Cit¡¯s magic resistant. I¡¯m no [Mage], but I hear all you have to do is push more Mana into it and your spells will take hold same as always.¡± ¡°Why do I get the feeling that¡¯s not as easy as it sounds,¡± said Brin. ¡°Because it¡¯s not. [Knights] are the answer to [Mages]. Sometimes a [Mage] will have the time and space to get clever, but a [Knight] beats a [Mage] nine times out of ten. It¡¯s like, [Knights] beat [Mages], [Mages] beat numbers, and numbers beat [Knights]. Want to take out a [Knight]? Get thirty guys together, be prepared to lose five or six to the [Knight¡¯s Charge], and then have the rest pull him down with ropes and yank his armor off.¡± Meaty was certainly right about [Mages] being able to take down high numbers of weaker opponents, he¡¯d seen Lumina cast down huge amounts of destruction. But he¡¯d have to check with her about [Knights]; he doubted she¡¯d really be satisfied with the idea that some random guy in armor could take her down. He¡¯d put that question in his very first letter to her, which he really should be writing tonight anyway. Right after he figured out how to break Hedrek¡¯s stupid armor. ¡°Do you have something I can practice with?¡± asked Brin. ¡°Sure!¡± said Meaty, and handed Brin an oddly-shaped piece of scrap metal, about a foot long. ¡°Don¡¯t be fooled. That¡¯s armor. You¡¯ll want to hang it on a practice dummy for the magic to really take hold. Here.¡± He wrapped a bit of twine around it so that Brin would be able to hang it on something like a Christmas ornament. It didn¡¯t look like much, but he could feel the traces of power within. Something about it told Brin that this metal was strong. With his shiny new present in hand, he set off for the practice yard. Book 4 - Chapter 24 The sparring grounds were somewhat crowded, and two from Brin¡¯s Lance were already there, Aeron and Meredydd. At first he was impressed that they were already back here and practicing after their extremely difficult day, but they weren¡¯t sparring. They seemed more interested in chatting with the other [Knights] than actually getting any training done. Neither looked keen to talk to Brin, so he left them to it. The sparring area was pretty full, with people waiting in line, but the targets set up for archery were completely open, which suited Brin perfectly. He hung the piece of armor that Meaty had given him on a dummy and then backed up to give himself room to work. First, he launched some of his pre-summoned marbles at the dummy, pressing more magic into them than was strictly necessary in order to harden them so they wouldn¡¯t crack or break against the metal. They probably wouldn¡¯t have broken anyway, but he wanted to get a feel for the interplay between his magic and the hardening enchantments on the armor. It didn¡¯t work very well, because he could only feel the interaction in the Wyrd for a tiny instant before the marble bounced off. He tried again with one, and instead of throwing it he pressed it into the metal and held it there. This time, he felt his connection to the magic powering the marble cut out, and it fell to the floor. Good. He tried again. He charged the marble with as much Mana as it could hold without shattering and then pressed it against the metal. This time he felt it connect, and felt the conflict in the Wyrd. The metal¡¯s argument was strong. It wasn¡¯t even an argument; it was a statement of fact. I am armor. I don¡¯t bend or break. I defend my wearer. Short and simple, and it gave Brin nothing to work with. One of the weaknesses of the Wyrd was that you had to believe your own arguments. Brin couldn¡¯t say, ¡°You aren¡¯t armor¡± or ¡°You shouldn¡¯t protect your wearer¡± and the armor wouldn¡¯t budge even if he could. The best he could manage would be something like You are armor but I will break you anyway. At that point, knowledge of the Wyrd wasn¡¯t changing anything at all. Still pumping in Mana to keep his grasp on the marble, he tried using it to nudge the metal to the side. He gasped as the Mana draining from his pool increased tenfold, and cut the connection before the armor could pull it all away. It had obviously been enchanted against someone trying to move it with magic. Where was the energy being stored, and how? There wasn¡¯t a clear crystal or beast core anywhere on the metal. He guessed that the fuel was dispersed within the metal somehow. If Brin tried to break through long enough, could he sap the armor¡¯s magic and break it that way? Even if that worked, it would be a long, expensive process. He was starting to get the feeling that there wasn¡¯t Mana storage going on at all. He didn¡¯t think there was an enchantment the way that he was used to¨Cif there was, the Wyrd would be more complex because he¡¯d be arguing with the person who cast the enchantment. This felt more like he was arguing with pure intent. Meaty had used his considerable skill and power to imbue this piece with strong but undirected intent; it knew it was armor but it left the details of what that meant up to the wielder and even the attacker. Brin was fighting against his own Wyrd. Unless he stopped seeing it as armor, it would do everything he expected armor to do. He used the marble again, pressing against the metal, but not in a threatening way. When his intention with the magic wasn¡¯t harmful, the armor didn¡¯t have much to defend against, so Brin could hold it there with much less power. He switched his argument. That dummy is nothing. I¡¯m your owner. Protect me. To his surprise, the force pushing against his marble immediately disappeared, and he was able to push the bit of metal with no resistance. He whooped with excitement before realizing that no, this wasn¡¯t the win he thought it was. It couldn¡¯t actually be that easy. This had only worked because he was completely certain of the fact that the dummy had no real claim on the armor. In real life, he wouldn¡¯t be able to make that argument. The next time he tried, it was much more complex, because now he had to convince the metal that the practice dummy really was its wearer and then try to talk it out of that again. He solved this by using a directed thread to play the part of the dummy. All the directed thread did was put an Invisible Eye in the dummy and think ¡°Yes of course this is my armor¡± and suddenly the defenses were back up in full force. Try as he might, Brin¡¯s main mind couldn¡¯t change ownership back to himself. The other thread was wearing the armor, sort of, so he was the owner, and nothing could change that. Rather than try to succeed in a complete negation of the armor¡¯s Wyrd, he started trying more indirect arguments. He tried, ¡°I¡¯m only moving you, not really doing damage. You protect from harm and I will not harm.¡± With arguments like that, the armor still resisted but not nearly to the same degree. He practiced for another hour, trying everything he could think of, until he realized that the first thing he tried was probably the best. He touched the marble against the armor, and it didn¡¯t fight him too hard unless he tried to break through. He melted the marble and surrounded the metal. He was careful to form in his mind that he wasn¡¯t trying to get in, just around. It was brutal on his Mana, draining the rest of what he¡¯d had left, but he managed it. He could use this. [Knights] were near impossible to break, but much easier to bind. What if he made chains? That thought was interesting enough that he considered splitting his mind in half to give a full half of his brain to the idea, but he didn¡¯t actually have anything else to do right now. He could use his full brain. The idea was pretty simple; he could summon the links in a chain individually, and have them grow right into each other. What if he created fifty Directed Threads and had each of them create a single link in the chain? His conscious mind would lose the entire one second it took to make it, but Directed Threads were fast and when they were done, he¡¯d have it all back. He summoned a single link of a chain, muttering the Language under his breath to mold it into the perfect form. The glass chain link looked good, but he ran into another problem. The day had been brutal on his Mana. First the fight with Hedrek had drained him, and he¡¯d lost most of what he¡¯d regenerated in the meantime practicing just now. Should he drink a Mana potion? He only had one stashed in Lumina¡¯s ring. That was for emergencies, though. If he started using them regularly, his allergy would come back. ¡°Giving up?¡± Brin turned around and saw that it was Aeron the [Warrior] who¡¯d asked the question. He and Meredydd had stopped practicing at some point to watch him. Aeron had sandy blonde hair, and an open, innocent-looking face. Neither of those were common here in Prinnash. Meredydd looked more like Brin, though his black hair was much longer and greasier. ¡°I¡¯m running low on Mana,¡± Brin admitted. ¡°Getting through a [Knights] armor isn¡¯t that easy, now is it?¡± Meredydd asked, a hint of mocking in his voice as if he hadn¡¯t already seen Brin whoop a [Knight] in armor earlier in the day. Brin didn¡¯t rise to the provocation. He needed a better relationship with these guys, and if they were talking to him then maybe this was an opening. ¡°What¡¯s your advice?¡± Meredydd crooked an eyebrow. ¡°Get a weapon better than glass.¡± ¡°You¡¯re an [Armsman], right? Does that mean you help make weapons for the Order?¡± Brin asked. ¡°No. It means I used to make weapons, and now I use weapons. If you want something made, go buy it yourself. I¡¯m not the Lance¡¯s discount,¡± said Meredydd. Brin shrugged and tried again. ¡°Fair enough. But I¡¯m sort of stuck with glass. Do you have any tips for me?¡± ¡°You really want my advice?¡± Meredydd asked, considering. ¡°Sure,¡± said Brin. ¡°Then pay me for it. You¡¯re our Second, you¡¯re supposed to be teaching us. If you want it to go the other way, then make it worth my time.¡± Brin gaped at the [Armsman], waiting for him to say he was just joking, but he was completely serious. ¡°Fine.¡± Brin fished through a pocket and found a silver penny, and flipped it to Meredydd. Meredydd¡¯s eyes went wide for a brief moment, reminding Brin that silver was still a lot of money for some people. He snatched the coin out of the air. Aeron groaned. ¡°Please don¡¯t encourage him, sir. Meredydd needs to learn that not everything is about money.¡± ¡°That¡¯s just something rich people say,¡± said Meredydd. Aeron shook his head in dismay, and Brin was pretty sure that it was because he really wasn¡¯t wealthy at all but that wasn¡¯t something you could admit to in this culture. Meredydd said, ¡°A deal¡¯s a deal. Let me answer your question with another question. Do you ever wonder why almost every [Knight] has [Blade Mastery] but you never see any of the experienced [Knights] with swords? Sometimes they have sidearms but it¡¯s never their primary weapon.¡± Brin blinked. ¡°I hadn¡¯t really noticed that, but you¡¯re right. Galan uses a mace.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because they don¡¯t need to use blades! The ability that [Blade Mastery] imbues you with doesn¡¯t need a blade to work. I can fight with a stick,¡± protested Aeron. ¡°But you¡¯re better with a blade,¡± said Meredydd. ¡°They need something for armor,¡± said Brin. ¡°Exactly. Spears are fine if you¡¯re aiming for the gaps, and by the way there are plenty you could¡¯ve gone for today. But if you want to go through the armor, you want a mace or a warhammer. Maybe an axe, but only if you have the right Skills for it,¡± said Meredydd. Brin thought about it. Was he really married to spears? He should experiment with different weapons. The key thing was shapes; why didn¡¯t he try different shaped spearheads, or even projectiles? He could probably make hollow point bullets, too, with a little trial and error. ¡°I have to admit, that was actually pretty helpful,¡± said Brin. ¡°Because that¡¯s what we do in a Lance. We help each other,¡± said Aeron. ¡°Yeah, but some help more than others, don¡¯t they? Me and Cowl have lots we can do for everyone, don¡¯t we? But what can a [Warrior] do for me?¡± said Meredydd.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I can have your back,¡± said Aeron. ¡°That¡¯s what the Order is paying you for,¡± said Meredydd. ¡°Point is, you¡¯re getting paid.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re not getting paid?¡± ¡°Sure, and I¡¯ll do the same as you. I¡¯ll have your back. I¡¯m not getting paid to give people free weapons.¡± Brin didn¡¯t actually know what their salary was or when they collected it; he doubted it would be very much money to someone like him. Aeron huffed angrily and then looked back to Brin, clearly wanting to change the subject. ¡°What was that you were working on just now?¡± Brin held up the glass chain link he was still holding. ¡°I wanted to try summoning a chain, but I don¡¯t have enough Mana to make the whole thing.¡± Meredydd took it. He rapped on it a couple times with his knuckles and then bit it. ¡°This is pretty solid. You can just summon this straight out?¡± ¡°The glass I make in a workshop is much stronger,¡± said Brin. ¡°The summoned stuff is good enough for most things, though.¡± ¡°What if you don¡¯t need it to be this strong? Like with those glass clones you made. They¡¯re just distractions anyway, so it¡¯s wasteful to use strong glass.¡± ¡°I just make the glass really thin,¡± said Brin. ¡°If you made really crappy, flimsy glass, would that cost even less Mana to summon? Might be useful for prototyping, too.¡± Meredydd put the piece of glass back in Brin¡¯s palm. ¡°No. I can only make it thinner. I can¡¯t¡­¡± Brin had to pause to think. Did he actually know that? He always made the best glass he knew how to make; he¡¯d never thought about making his glass worse before. ¡°Maybe. You might be onto something.¡± Meredydd held out his hand. ¡°I didn¡¯t agree to give you glass advice. Cough up.¡± ¡°You also didn¡¯t name a price,¡± said Brin. Then he shrugged and put the glass link in Meredydd¡¯s hand. Meredydd said, ¡°Good enough.¡± ¡°Please, please stop encouraging him, sir,¡± said Aeron. Meredydd punched Aeron¡¯s shoulder, and Aeron hit him back, and the two went back to squabbling again, throwing insults and jabs that couldn¡¯t do anything against the armor they both wore. After they left, Brin made a quick attempt to summon a weaker glass marble. Lumina hadn¡¯t given him a whole lot of words in the Language for ¡°weak¡± or ¡°bad quality¡±, but thankfully [Memories In Glass] stored every word of Language he¡¯d ever heard her speak so after sending a Directed Thread to search through his memories, he soon had something to work with. ¡°¡± The marble grew into existence in the palm of his hand. He pinched it, and crushed it so easily that he was sure even a pre-System child would¡¯ve been able to. Sadly, though, that summon hadn¡¯t cost any less Mana than a normal glass marble. Maybe if he had more time or a full Mana pool he¡¯d be able to work it out. As it was, he doubted he¡¯d really make much progress today. What he really needed was a glass workshop so that he could learn by hand what went into lighter, flimsier, and more delicate glass. Then his [Summon Glass] spell could draw more heavily from his own understanding. Since it wasn¡¯t urgent, he decided to put the question in a letter to Lumina. He should write to her anyway, just to let her know he was in a Lance now. Mentally dictating the letter, he resolved to ask her for more general advice on taking on a [Knight] as a [Mage]. He was sure she¡¯d have some tips and tricks. He thought about trying to subtly ask about what he should do if he met the [Paladin] they were looking for, but decided against it. She knew he was here and likely to run into the fellow, so if she wasn¡¯t saying anything then she¡¯d have to trust his best judgement. He stored the letter so that he¡¯d be able to have a thread scribble it down later, and went back to his tests. Thinking more about the shapes of weapons, Brin wondered if he should mess around with the shapes of his bullets. After all, when they wanted to pierce armor in his old world, they didn¡¯t use spheres. He only remembered a little about armor piercing bullets, but he was pretty sure that true armor piercing rounds had a bursting charge, meaning they literally put more explosives inside the bullet. He could sort of make glass explode. Should he try that? He decided to give it a shot. He made a bullet in two parts, charging the front half of the glass with Language about going fast and striking hard, and the other half with Language about exploding. Brin aimed his bullet and pushed it forwards with ¡°¡± The bullet instantly exploded, plinking against the armor of his hand and arm. If he hadn¡¯t been wearing armor, he¡¯d be picking glass slivers out of his skin right now. Luckily, the glass hadn¡¯t seemed to touch anyone else around. Better to try this somewhere else, where there was less chance of shooting shards of glass into people¡¯s eyes. There were other bullet shapes he could try. Hollow points, maybe? Those were designed to balloon out once they hit their target so that they¡¯d do as much damage to the creature they hit while also not going straight through. An interesting thought, but not what he wanted right now. He also knew about full metal jackets, but only because that movie had convinced him to google it once. Basically, they coated a softer metal in a shell of a harder metal to make a stronger bullet overall. But he was pretty sure the purpose of the hard shell was to prevent the bullet from deforming too much in the barrel so that it would shoot farther. He didn¡¯t think that would actually help him here. Wasn¡¯t there something else? He faintly remembered hearing about the actual shape of a bullet helping to pierce armor, but he couldn¡¯t remember how or why. He had a bunch of ideas, and as long as he was only shaping one bullet at a time, using glass he¡¯d already summoned, he¡¯d be able to stretch his mana out for a long while. He switched out the enchanted metal for a plate of normal steel, and then began his work. After an hour or so of practice, he found that hollow points worked better than expected. His attempts at full metal jackets didn¡¯t do much, but that could be because he wasn¡¯t doing a good job at making different densities of glass. The real standout was making arrowhead shaped bullets that were hollow on the inside with a back that was dented forward like the bottom of a wine bottle. Something about the release of tension in the way it shattered made it hit just a bit harder. But those only worked if he pointed them exactly right, which took some practice. Shape Glass leveled up! Through training, you have increased the following attribute: Magic +1 He decided to make his way back to Meaty and asked his advice on breaking through armor, but he wasn¡¯t much help. ¡°I make armor, kid. It¡¯s my whole life! If I had some cheap trick to break through enchanted armor, don¡¯t you think I would, you know, try to shore up that weakness? I¡¯ll tell you one thing, though, there¡¯s no power source in that piece I gave you.¡± Of course an armor guy wouldn¡¯t have good ideas for breaking armor. Brin needed to talk to the weapons guy. Unfortunately, the Order had several rooms that were warded against Brin¡¯s spying and the weapons storage must have been one of them. He had to snoop by physically walking around. As he snooped, he was surprised to find Rhun in an open courtyard. It wasn¡¯t so much a courtyard as a place no one was using because the roof had caved in, but he found Rhun there with his kettlebell. The [Warrior] was going through the set of exercises Brin had shown them all. Through the open faceplate, Brin could see that Rhun¡¯s eyes were sunken and his skin looked almost gray. He set the kettlebell down and met Brin¡¯s eyes, somewhere between ashamed and proud. ¡°This is how you grew so strong, or am I mistaken?¡± Rhun asked. Brin needed to stop being surprised to hear Rhun speak fluently while he still stumbled on his words; this was Rhun¡¯s language after all. ¡°It¡¯s a big part of it,¡± admitted Brin. ¡°How long have you been at this?¡± ¡°Since we returned from dinner,¡± said Rhun. That was a long time. Brin didn¡¯t know if it was [Athletic Training] talking or just common sense, but he was certain that if Rhun kept going he¡¯d injure himself. ¡°Hey, why don¡¯t you wrap that up for now? There¡¯s a big part of this that you''re missing,¡± said Brin. ¡°And what is that?¡± ¡°Food.¡± This had nothing to do with the cramping hunger pain that he himself was feeling; no, he really needed to help his Lance-mate right now. Rhun followed him, and said, ¡°Where? Is the mess hall still open? I had rather thought that they expected us at certain times.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s closed. But in a big, bustling headquarters like this, there has to be food somewhere,¡± said Brin. Rhun followed for a little longer, then shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not certain we should pursue this course of action. A true man takes what he is given, but nothing more.¡± Brin noticed that Rhun didn¡¯t stop following him, though. ¡°I can¡¯t help you be a true man. I want to make you a big man. If you only take the points that the System gives you, then you¡¯ll never be as strong as you should be. You need to grow your real muscles, too, and real muscles need real food. Lots of it!¡± Brin found the door he was looking for; nothing had warded his Invisible Eyes against this place, so he knew that this was where the servants ate. He knocked on the door. An older gentleman opened the door, and Brin was treated to the scent of warm bread, roasting meat, and a strong amount of pipe smoke. Before speaking, the older man poked his head out of the door, looked both ways, and then smiled up at Brin and Rhun. ¡°Alright, come in then.¡± Inside, he found a cozy, tightly packed kitchen. The walls were covered with ovens and stoves, some magical and others fueled by ordinary flame. There were also preparing areas, shelves and cupboards, and dishwashing bins. A table took up the center so that there was only about a foot of space to move around on either side, and a single servant girl sat on the table, poking at a plate of supper exactly like what Brin¡¯s Lance had eaten a few hours earlier. The older man [Inspected] as Emir Bevan, a [Battle-Ready Baker], and only at level 30. That was on the low side for someone his age, but he also had a compound Class. If it had the same leveling drawbacks that Brin¡¯s [Glassbound Illusionist] did, then it was impressive he¡¯d even made it to thirty. ¡°I suppose you want something to eat? The young ones always do. I think your commanders forget that though knights you may be, you¡¯re still growing,¡± said Emir. ¡°That would be delightful, thank you,¡± said Brin. ¡°Don¡¯t be shy,¡± said the girl, and patted the chair next to her. She was 15 years old and named Cati Breckon, a level 15 [Cook¡¯s Apprentice]. She looked Prinnashian in the face, but her hair was an unusual light red. ¡°Great!¡± said Brin, and sat down beside her. Rhun sat across from her, and eyed the two of them with a hint of suspicion. Cati chewed on a fingernail and looked to her other side; since she was at the end of the table there wasn¡¯t another chair there. ¡°We could scoot down¡­¡± Rhun smiled. ¡°No need. From this side I can view my excellent company much better.¡± Cati blushed and leaned forward. ¡°And I you.¡± Rhun grinned and removed his helmet, setting it down on the chair next to him. ¡°Now, now, Cati, leave these poor men alone. Can¡¯t you see that they¡¯re famished?¡± said Emir. ¡°What can I get for you young sirs?¡± ¡°Oh, whatever you have on hand. We don¡¯t mean to be a bother,¡± said Brin. ¡°Nonsense. Bread? Roast beef? Vegetables?¡± ¡°Yes, please,¡± said Brin. ¡°Beer? Rum?¡± ¡°Ru¨C¡± Rhun started, but Brin interrupted. ¡°Milk, if you have it. And yoghurt, if you can spare it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care for yoghurt,¡± said Rhun. ¡°Do it for your muscles,¡± said Brin. ¡°Mmm. Muscles, hm?¡± said Cati. She fluttered her eyes a little at Rhun. What was going on? Rhun was the hot one, when Brin was sitting right here? ¡°Oh stop that! These two might think you¡¯re serious!¡± said Emir. Cati broke out into giggles, and Rhun snorted in amusement. Emir piled their plates high with great heaping portions, as well as two glasses each, one for milk and one for yoghurt. The food was cold but still delicious, and both Brin and Rhun dug in like starving wolves. Brin at least was a well-mannered starving wolf and used proper table manners. Rhun ate hunched forward with forks in both hands, and Brin got the feeling he was lucky that he ate with utensils at all. Well, etiquette was one of the things Cid had mentioned they¡¯d need to teach the Lance. Brin¡¯s stomach suddenly felt full around halfway through, but he figured it had been begging for food long enough that it could deal with it. He was going to eat everything on the plate. Still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to slow down. ¡°I¡¯ve never met a [Battle-Ready Baker],¡± said Brin. ¡°Because you are from Frenaria,¡± said Rhun. ¡°In Prinnash we know that every true man must be ready and willing to defend his life, his country, and his family. Emir, with his Common Class, lives a life above reproach!¡± Brin chuckled, because Rhun was usually the last person to butter someone up like that. Apparently all you really needed to do to be a ¡°true man¡± was feed him. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know about all that,¡± said Emir, clearly pleased at the compliment. ¡°I thought Prinnash was completely safe. Didn¡¯t you tell me that all the ¡®true men¡¯ hunted all the monsters to extinction?¡± Cati snorted a laugh. ¡°Did he really say that? There are monsters everywhere. We¡¯re especially lousy with goblins, lately. Usually you¡¯re fine if you stick to the roads but now no one travels without an escort and they¡¯re even starting to raid towns.¡± ¡°Is this true? Has so much changed in such a short time?¡± Rhun asked, looking at Emir. ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± said Emir. ¡°With our armies hugging the borders of Arcaena, there is a lack in the rest of the country.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t gotten a letter from my sister in Hrexwyth for almost two months. I bet she¡¯s not getting my letters, either,¡± said Cati. ¡°But her last letter said she heard they were moving in tribes of a hundred or more.¡± ¡°These are dark tidings,¡± said Rhun. ¡°My family is in Gynli. If goblins are growing bold as near as Hrexwyth, then how can I trust that far-off Gynli is still safe?¡± ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Cati. ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as all that. Our [Warriors] are here, but I think those goblins will find we commoners are tough meat to chew,¡± said Emir. ¡°Hear, hear!¡± said Rhun. They finished their food quickly, Brin choked down his yoghurt and had to remind Rhun to drink his own. Fish-flavored, and it smelled more strongly than it tasted. Back in their bunkroom, he learned that the entire Lance never slept without their armor at the same time. Normally, that meant that two would keep watch, switching out through the night, but here that wasn¡¯t needed. But they still expected two of them to keep their armor on, starting with Cid and Brin. Well joke was on them; Brin had no trouble with that at all. If you could learn to sleep knowing that a monster fish would torture you in your dreams, you could learn to sleep in armor. Brin was out the second his head touched the pillow. Book 4 - Chapter 25 The next morning Brin and the rest of the Lance left the keep together to go find the Order¡¯s stables. The stables were an oddly far distance away, nearly a quarter mile. After all, wouldn¡¯t you want your horses to be close in case you needed to go somewhere in a hurry? But the ground near the keep was treacherous; odd stones popped up everywhere, and what looked like soft earth might have a sharp stone just under the surface. The stable wasn¡¯t hard to recognize, either. It was a brand new construction, made of solid timber, with walls and a roof and everything. Apparently the Order didn¡¯t think their knights or logistics staff needed anything special, but for their horses? Only the best. As they were approaching, they passed a group of knights leaving on horseback. They didn¡¯t look much different than Brin¡¯s Lance, except that they looked like real knights. It wasn¡¯t just the fact that all of them wore powerfully enchanted armor like Cid and Hedrek. It was more the way they carried themselves. Backs straight, confident, and synchronized in a way that was hard to put his finger on. Would Brin¡¯s Lance look like that someday, or were these guys winners from the beginning? Brin saw an older knight, and from the way he stood watching them expectantly, it was clear that he was waiting for them. Name: Derec Cronby Level: 45 Class: Horse Master Derec wore no helmet and the bare minimum of acceptable armor. A breastplate, a strip of metal on his forearms, and an attempt at plates on the outside of his thighs. All the rest of his outfit was old, worn leather. Brin whispered to Cid, using sound magic to make sure no one else could hear, ¡°Who¡¯s that? I thought Hedrek was going to show us the ropes.¡± ¡°Hedrek declined,¡± Cid whispered back. Brin frowned but left it there for now. ¡°Good, gather ¡®round young sirs, that¡¯s the way. My name¡¯s Derec and I serve under sir Gamwyff in the Order of the Long Sleep twenty-first Lance.¡± ¡°What¡¯s our Lance?¡± Brin asked Cid. ¡°The fifty-first. Now hush,¡± Cid whispered back. Derec was difficult to understand, since he spoke with a strong accent. It wasn¡¯t the accent of another language, as far as Brin could tell, but more likely the accent of some place very rural and remote. ¡°As your Lance doesn¡¯t have a [Horse Master], your Prime asked me to show you a thing or two. Now, let¡¯s get off on the right foot here. The Order seeks equality between its knights, so just because I¡¯m older than you, and higher level, and a good deal handsomer, and unlike you I know the difference between my butt and a hole in the wall, that don¡¯t mean that you have to do what I say. But, since I¡¯m going to be leading this little demonstration, I expect you all to do what I say, when I say it, with no exceptions. Is that understood?¡± Most of the Lance answered in the affirmative, but Hedrek looked away and said nothing, and Derec noticed. ¡°Your Prime can maintain order in his Lance as he desires, that¡¯s fine, but if [Stablemaster] Yrgryd starts to feel like you aren¡¯t treating his babies right, you¡¯ll be doing a lot of walking, I¡¯ll tell you that much.¡± ¡°Understood, sir Derec,¡± Hedrek said. ¡°Good. Alright, then.¡± Derec whistled, and moments later a line of eleven warhorses trotted out of the stable. They moved in a perfect line as if they were being led, but Derec made no sign to guide them except for that first whistle. The horses moved to stand in a line in front of the knights, facing them. A few twitched their ears, some of them shook their heads, and one stomped on the ground a few times, but they stayed in position. These horses were insanely well trained. They were also big. Bigger than animals should be, sort of in the uncanny valley because you expected an animal that large to be dull and plodding, but they seemed sharp-eyed and full of energy. It confused Brin half a second why there were eleven horses instead of ten, until one of them walked over to stand next to Derec. The rest stayed facing the men. It was a bit intimidating, seeing them all lined up like. [Inspect] told them that their average level was 20, and they had virtue names like ¡°Justice¡±, ¡°Generous¡±, and ¡°Mercy¡±. Marksi had decided to come along, and he jumped down from Brin¡¯s shoulders to dart towards the horses. He charged at them, then backed up at the last second, making quick, sudden movements to try to spook them. The horses barely noticed, but Derec said, ¡°You can get lost if that¡¯s what you want to pull.¡± The words ¡®get lost¡¯ had the weight of a Skill behind them, and Marksi hissed before doing what Derec suggested and fleeing out of sight. Brin sighed. He¡¯d been worried about this. Was Marksi worried that he was being replaced? He¡¯d have to explain things to him later. Marksi should never be worried about being replaced by a pet, because Marksi was not a pet. He was family. Derec rubbed his hands together and looked back and forth between the horses and the knights. ¡°Let¡¯s see here. Hm. I think sir Govannon, I¡¯ll put you with Mercy. Sir Meredydd, you¡¯ll take Generous. Sir Brych, Faith¡­¡± Brin still couldn¡¯t get used to complete strangers knowing his name no matter how long he spent in this world. If people introduced each other it was just a formality, because with [Inspect], everyone knew everyone¡¯s names. ¡°Sir Anwir, Courage. Sir Hedrek, Justice. Sir Brin, Nobility. And that leaves Humility for you, sir Gurthcid.¡± Of all the horses, only Humility really looked like he matched his namesake. Cid¡¯s horse was sad-eyed and swaybacked. Nothing like the excellent black stallion that Derec had assigned to Brin. Brin, Cid, Hedrek, and the [Page], Govannon, started forward immediately, while the others hung back a little to see what they¡¯d do. Brin had gone horseback riding maybe three times in his life, but he knew the basics. He moved slowly, avoiding any sudden movements, and when Nobility seemed comfortable, he brought his hand up for the horse to sniff. Nobility twitched his face to the side just a bit to sniff Brin¡¯s hand, and then snapped back to attention, eyes forward. A true professional, this horse. Brin patted Nobility¡¯s face, and the horse allowed it, looking neither irritated nor pleased. On the other side, Humility leaned into Cid¡¯s touch like a dog, while Hedrek¡¯s Justice jolted back a step, a bit spooked. The rest of the men met their horses, and Derec gave them all plenty of time to do it, waiting until men and horse alike were shifting nervously, not sure what they were expected to do next. Finally, Derec said, ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to demonstrate the right way to unsaddle and saddle a horse.¡± He went through all the parts of the saddle, naming them one by one and telling the men their function, and then started to disassemble it. Undo the keeper, unlatch the cinch, pull it through the hoops, and so on. Brin made one Directed Thread to remember all the vocabulary words so that he could quiz himself later; he wanted to have it in his real memory, not just his glass memory. He also had another Directed Thread create a checklist of all the steps, so that he¡¯d be able to do this without help the next time. They followed along as Derec demonstrated, to varying degrees of proficiency. Brin thought he was doing a pretty decent job, and Cid did the tasks so easily it looked rote. Govannon was the same. Hedrek kept pulling way too hard on the straps, as if he was impatient with the whole exercise, and Anwir kept messing up. The [Hunter] looked practically terrified of his horse and kept flinching.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Once they all had their saddles off, Derec instructed them on putting them back on. He made sure to go over each step in exacting detail, going over exactly why it was important to do it right. ¡°You put the saddle a little bit forward from where you think it should be. Know why? Because you can slide it back a little if you need, but you shouldn¡¯t slide it forward. Forward is against the grain, and that can bunch up the hairs. That¡¯s uncomfortable for the horse. You might say it don¡¯t matter, but if you bring a horse back with a rash or a welt we¡¯ll have questions for you, and there will be words following those questions. Stern words, I¡¯d imagine.¡± He walked them through the front cinch and the back cinch, not too tight and not too loose. Every step, until the horse was saddled. Brin noticed again that Hedrek got lazy and skipped steps; his cinch strap wasn¡¯t wrapped around the keeper the way it should be. Derec didn¡¯t say anything, though, so Brin figured it was good enough. Derec showed them how to mount next, and Brin was gratified to see that everyone was able to follow his lead on the first try. It was good to see that their moderate Dexterity scores counted for something. There was a brief moment of vertigo when Brin got on top of his horse, something he¡¯d felt the other few times he¡¯d done this. It was a bit strange to be up this high and realize the thing he was sitting on wasn¡¯t a car or motorcycle, it was a living, thinking animal, and he was at its mercy. People thought of the rider being the one in control, and hopefully he was, but if Nobility decided to go for a run right now, there wasn¡¯t much Brin could do about it. He noticed that there weren¡¯t any reins. There were head ropes, but no reins. The only thing he could grab onto if he needed to was the saddle horn. ¡°Go ahead and ask. That¡¯s the fun part for me, is when someone asks a stupid question,¡± said Derec. He was looking at Brin, but luckily Brych interrupted and asked first. ¡°Derec, sir, why¨C¡± ¡°Sir Derec,¡± Brin snapped. ¡°A fellow knight-at-arms from another Lance will be addressed as ¡®sir¡¯ and then their first name.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir Brin,¡± said Derec. Brin nodded. ¡°What was your question, sir Brych?¡± asked Derec. ¡°Sir Derec, why are there no reins?¡± asked Brych while glaring at Brin. Derec burst out laughing. ¡°What a stupid question!¡± He laughed on for long enough that Brych glare shifted away from Brin and towards the [Horse Master]. ¡°Well it is!¡± Derec said, wiping a tear from his eye. ¡°You¡¯re a knight, ain¡¯t ya? And what¡¯s a knight got to do with his hands? Not guide a horse, that¡¯s for sure. You¡¯ll learn to guide the horse with your legs or you¡¯ll learn to go where the horse wants to take you, it don¡¯t matter to me. The Order of the Long Sleep does not use reins, and if you catch someone putting a bit in the mouth of one of our horses, you let me know so we can remove the offending fellow¡¯s hands. That¡¯s not a joke, either.¡± Derec stared them all down, and when they were all suitably impressed, he said, ¡°Good enough. We¡¯re going to have a ride-around now. Don¡¯t bother trying to steer the animal today, they know where to go. This will be to see if you can stay seated without falling off. Some of you look like you haven¡¯t been atop a living creature since your mamas set you down for the last time.¡± Derec¡¯s horse spun and trotted off, and the [Horse Master] casually kept his hands on his hips, unfazed by the sharp motion. Then he clicked his tongue and all the others burst into motion. Brin tried to keep his hands at his sides as well, after all if they were doing this so that he¡¯d be able to ride while holding weapons he might as well start practicing now. He wobbled in his seat, but a death grip with his legs kept him in the saddle. A few of the men had white-knuckle grips on their saddle horns, but no one fell off in that first bit of motion. Derec took them for a ride. They walked at first, then that turned into an easy trot. The pace didn¡¯t seem like it was at all difficult for the horses, but it ate up the ground like magic. They traveled up and down little hillocks, they moved across fields, through streams, and even jumped a waist-high fence once. Now and again Derec ordered the horses into a gallop, and Brin marveled at the way the world passed by; obviously the Order had a lot of Skills going into the breeding and training of these animals. They were in a completely different league than the workhorses in Hammon¡¯s Bog, and those had not been slouches. Before today, he hadn¡¯t really seen the importance of using horses. He''d thought that sure, it would be nice to have an animal doing the work for you, but with his stats he could run pretty fast so it wouldn''t make much difference. Now that he saw a proper [Knight¡¯s] horse, he realized he couldn¡¯t have been more wrong. The System could only magnify what he already had, the speed and power of these creatures was something he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever fully match. How would a [Knight¡¯s Charge] work from horseback? He wanted to see it, and soon he would. Cid had mentioned something about doing joint exercises with the other Lances, and that was to be a part of it. The ride was fun; that was the only word for it. Once, when they crested a slight hill, and they looked down over a vast, fantasy world, Brin was overcome with an intense sense of gratitude. During his darkest moments, could he ever have predicted that he¡¯d end up here? That he¡¯d be this guy? He was a knight in shining armor atop a mighty steed in a beautiful and magical world. He was here. This was real. He didn''t always love [Know What''s Real] for stripping away his illusions, but now he was grateful. After the ride Derec had them all skip lunch in favor of learning how to feed, groom, and brush their horses. When they finished, Cid advised them all to seriously consider taking the [Riding] general Skill, and Brin was almost totally persuaded. Lumina had [Riding], and he¡¯d always thought of that as a funny little eccentricity, but now he saw it was a solid, practical choice. When Lumina needed to get somewhere, she needed to get there fast. If a Skill like [Riding] could eke even a few minutes off of a long, cross-country trip, then it could possibly save lives. How many people would¡¯ve died if she¡¯d gotten to Hammon¡¯s Bog five minutes later that one time? He didn¡¯t need it today, though. Skills took a while to ramp up, anyway, and he didn''t want to use the point before asking Lumina''s advice. He¡¯d include the question in his next letter to her and see if she recommended it. The day of riding gave him something else, though. Through training, you have earned the following attribute: Dexterity +1 He didn¡¯t feel like he¡¯d done a really difficult Dexterity training, so he assumed the System had given it to him for learning something new. They had a very, very late lunch next, and it was clear that Cid had arranged things because the serving staff gave Brin a double portion without even needing to be asked. Marksi found them at lunchtime and wanted to eat off Brin¡¯s plate, so Brin got up and fetched a meal for him. It¡¯s not that he really minded sharing with Marksi, but the dragonling was growing up and he could really pack it away when he wanted. And now, so could Brin. Cid asked Brin to lead the Lance in Strength training, and Brin was all too delighted to comply. Since the kettlebells had been such a success the day before, he had them do that again. This time, feeling like he was less likely to be challenged to a duel, he made a much bigger one for himself and Hedrek so that he could actually get a workout, too. Cid declined when Brin offered a bigger one for him, but he did say that he¡¯d take one eventually when his command was on a stronger footing. To everyone¡¯s delight, Marksi joined in too, and instead of the cute, little useless motions he used to make, he seemed determined this time to actually work as hard as everyone else. Maybe it was to make up for running away from Derec so easily, but he actually put in a good effort. The Lance was so amused by that they forgot to be their usual grumpy selves, but that only lasted for about forty-five minutes. After that, the normal grunts and complaints started, and a half hour after that, they started to take on a more defiant tone. Brych especially sounded like he¡¯d refuse if Brin told him to do a single squat more. Brin switched it up and turned it into a competition, telling them to do however many they wanted, but that whoever did the most lunge squats in a row would be ¡°today¡¯s strongest¡±, a title which would entitle them to exactly zero extra privileges. Naturally they all had to have it. Rhun ended up winning, but only because Cid disqualified himself and Brin had made his own kettlebell so heavy. The [Warrior] had even claimed that he¡¯d gotten an Achievement out of it, and refused to tell anyone what it was. Brin didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever have trouble motivating the men during workouts again. Many of them also got a point or two, which always helped. Even Brin got one. Through training, you have earned the following attribute: Strength +1 They bathed, dressed, and then right before dinner Cid once again risked Brin¡¯s life by pulling him to the side before he could eat. ¡°We talk after, yes?¡± Cid pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Please abandon the accent when we¡¯re alone; I know it¡¯s fake.¡± ¡°Is fake, but also is fun!¡± said Brin. Cid frowned. ¡°Alright. Fine, we¡¯ll talk now. You have to do something about Hedrek.¡± Cid winced. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Tell him off, or let me tell him off. We can¡¯t go on like this,¡± said Brin. ¡°I don¡¯t think that would help. I¡¯ll talk to him. I will. But I¡¯ve seen a dozen men chew him out and it doesn¡¯t work. We should try a different tack. I think that with a little bit of responsibility, he would rise to the occasion.¡± Hadn¡¯t Cid tried that with horsemanship, and Hedrek had straight-up refused? Brin shook his head. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll put him in charge of something. Tomorrow, he¡¯ll lead us in something. What are we doing tomorrow, anyway?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to think of something for the day after. Tomorrow is our day off. I don¡¯t know about you, but I think I¡¯d like to hit the town.¡± Book 4 - Chapter 26 The small town of Talra was only a half hour walk from the Order''s castle, and since Brin actually walked, he was the last to arrive. He''d only been cooped up in that castle for a couple weeks, and he''d only been officially enlisted for a few days. The other guys had gone months without a day of freedom, so they were a fair bit more eager. Brin didn''t know what they were so excited for. Talra was tiny. About two dozen small homes in a ring around a mostly empty town square. The only thing worth seeing at all was the Inn and the Tavern and both of those buildings were new; probably built this spring to cater to the soldiers who''d begun to swarm the area. According to Cid, if the Lance didn''t make too much trouble today, they''d be allowed to take their next free day in Fortmouth, which was an hour away on horseback. Brin would make sure there wasn''t trouble, because he needed to make more glass weapons and he couldn¡¯t do it here. Forget having a glassworks; Talra didn''t even have a smithy. When he got to town, he found the rest of the Lance milling around uselessly, probably unsure of what to do now that they were here. Honestly, what did they expect? Brin actually had business here. After all, Sion was in town. The house wasn''t marked by anything in particular, but Brin found it easily with an Invisible Eye. He marched up and opened the door without knocking. Inside, Sion jumped, startled and turned around. His expression relaxed when he saw it was Brin. "Ah, you startled me. How embarrassing, because I even knew to expect you." Sion nodded to Marksi, who''d also ran ahead. The dragonling was laying on a dining table, nestled around a plate full of grapes. When he saw Brin, he pulled the plate closer to himself, as if worried Brin would try to steal them. Brin laughed and shook his head. "I could''ve guessed. So what''s going on here?" He gestured at the room, which was covered with Sion''s luggage and traveling boxes; there was no way he was going to unpack everything in this tiny house. He had one suitcase open and appeared to have been going through clothes when Brin had startled him. The only other thing that looked to have been opened was a case of papers and documents. Many of them were already covering a nearby writing desk. The house was an old, lived-in cottage for country commoners, but Sion thrust his arms wide as if welcoming someone to a lavish mansion. "Do you like it? I decided to purchase accommodations for myself, for as long as I am to serve as a go-between between your Order and my family." "It''s... fine. But I assumed you were going to stay in the castle," said Brin. "Indeed. [Lieutenant] Lyssa was more than generous in her offer to let me stay in the keep, it is true. There I had meals provided, shelter, and servants to see to my needs. They even went so far as to tidy my documents for me and sort my mail." "Ah, you needed privacy. Lyssa was probably reading your mail, not just sorting it," said Brin. "No! Lyssa, who has shown me such kindness? I would never accuse such a dear benefactor of something like that. How could I ever, out loud or in public, accuse her of intercepting my mail? Speaking of which, many of the return letters from my family have recently arrived. I expect I''ll be quite busy in the following weeks!" Brin shook his head. "What''s going on with that lady, anyway?" "So you haven''t heard? There are certain rumors." "What rumors?" "My friend, you wound me. Do you really think me the kind of man who repeats base speculation?" asked Sion. "Of course not. Since you are a gentleman, you avoid such trivialities. In fact, you should tell me what they are so that I can avoid them as well." "Good, in that case, you should avoid letting anyone tell you that Galan slew her brother in combat, whereupon Lyssa immediately left home and came to join Galan''s retinue," said Sion. Brin frowned. "We need to tell him." Sion shrugged. "Perhaps you should. Only, how could he not already know? She didn¡¯t even bother to hide her last name." Brin shook his head. ¡°So she¡¯s what? A spy? This doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a lot here that doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± said Sion. ¡°The might of three nations are gathered here in Prinnash. Four, if you count Theranor, but no one¨C¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you count Theranor?¡± Brin asked. ¡°They sent a token force of a hundred men and a martial order with only one [Knight],¡± said Sion. That one [Knight] was actually a [Paladin], if Brin guessed correctly. Brin hoped Sion would elaborate. He didn¡¯t ask, though, because the fact that they knew this secret was a key tactical advantage, and a single whisper that Brin the Mistaken was asking around about the Order of the Golden Ivory might be enough to blow everything. He didn¡¯t ask, and Sion didn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°All these armies, but no one knows when the invasion will happen or who will lead it,¡± said Sion. ¡°My father always says ¡®follow the money¡¯ and the money points to the invasion happening this year¨C¡± ¡°How so?¡± ¡°No one brought [Farmers]. Prinnash has opened their stores, and the rest is supplied with expensive wagon trains. If they meant to stay longer than a year, they all would¡¯ve brought their own [Farmers]. But since they haven¡¯t, they must mean to win or retreat inside before it would be necessary. Other than that, I have no clue. There are no councils of leaders, and only a fool would try to coordinate the invasion of a [Witch] Queendom through correspondence. It¡¯s almost as if no one knows what is going on at all! Ah, but I begin to ramble.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t stop there! You hardly ever get a good rant going. Let it out,¡± said Brin. ¡°Very well, in that case I shall tell you that your Galan is too agreeable by half. Not only does he refuse to expel an obvious spy, I fear that he is being used by every other army as an errand boy. He goes running at the call of [General] Chulainn, and this is understandable because the [General] may well be the de facto leader of the Ollandish contingent. But Galan is also often dashing away to answer to the heads of the other Ollandish Orders. The Order of the Oblique Horizon, the Order of the Bear, and the Order of the White. He also runs off to organize logistical matters for Pombe, the Prinnashian general, and I¡¯ve seen him open his stores of precious enchanting materials to the Order of the Luminous Serpent from Frenaria. He is hardly ever here with his own Order, and absolutely never has time to pursue growth in levels.¡± Brin sighed. ¡°That sounds like Galan. He has a strong sense of duty.¡± ¡°A leader has a duty to practicality, does he not? But that is enough from me; truly, I do not wish to lambast your commander. He is a great man, surely better than you or I.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t argue with that. So what¡¯s going on here? Need some help unpacking?¡± ¡°Oh, no, my friend, I couldn¡¯t possibly¡­¡± That was a ¡®yes¡¯, so Brin got to it. Many of the bags would have to stay close; there really wasn¡¯t room in the small house to do anything with Sion¡¯s clothes, but they could at least pull out all the things he used for his work. Luckily, they found a [Woodworker] in town who was able to throw together a few simple shelves. After an hour or two of work, which consisted mostly of Brin watching Sion arrange and rearrange the documents, books, and ledgers, they declared their work done. Sion had a suitable office. After that, it was still a bit early for lunch, but they didn¡¯t have anything better to do so they set out for the tavern. Only, they didn¡¯t get very far, because he was immediately treated to the sight of his Lance causing trouble. Brych, Meredydd, Cowl, and Govannon were standing in a ring around two girls backed against a wall, who both looked a bit nervous. Wait a second¨Che recognized one. That was Cati Breckon, the [Cook¡¯s Apprentice] he¡¯d met in the servant¡¯s kitchen the other night. She was saying something to the men with a pained smile on her face, and all but shielding the other girl with her body. How had this happened? Brin was smarter than this. He¡¯d set an Invisible Eye to watch the men, hadn¡¯t he? But that Invisible Eye was being guided by a directed thread which might not be smart enough to figure out what trouble looked like. Main: Which thread is responsible for watching the Lance? Task Manager: Thread DT3 Main: DT3, please transcribe the recent conversation. DT3: Transcribing ~ Meredydd: ¡­asking where you were from Cati: I¡¯m not from Talra, sir, but Awsta grew up here. Now¨C Brych: Can Awsta speak for herself? Cati: She can, sir. Now if you¡¯ll just¨CUnauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Brych: Then why doesn¡¯t she? Cati: She will if she wishes, sir. Awsta: I can speak, sir. Cati: Now if you¡¯ll let us get back to our chores¡­ Brych: What¡¯s the hurry? Surely it could wait. Cati: No hurry, sir, now if you¡¯ll excuse us. Meredydd: Hold on. We haven¡¯t asked you¨C His directed thread was just reading this as a normal conversion, understanding none of the context. The men were probably missing the context too, due to the fact that both girls were smiling. He was fairly confident that they¡¯d eventually give up and stop eventually, but he wasn¡¯t going to wait for that to happen. He would put a stop to it now. This made him miss his friends, even Zilly, which was a strangely uncomfortable feeling. ¡°Alright, what¡¯s all this about?¡± Brin said, pushing his way between his Lancemates and the girls. ¡°Nothing. Just talking,¡± said Brych. ¡°Talking. Is this what talking looks like? [Knights] are surely elevated folk, because their ideas of talking are much above my understanding,¡± said Sion. ¡°This is none of your business, Brin¡± said Govannon, and then looking to Sion, he added. ¡°I don¡¯t even know who you are.¡± ¡°Not my business? I decide what is my business. You are Govannon Boal, yes? You are Dectant, correct? Dectant protects the honor of the Lance. Dectant does not harass the local women.¡± Govannon started to grow red, ¡°We weren¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°They weren¡¯t harassing us, sir,¡± said the pale, delicate looking girl who must¡¯ve been Awsta. According to [Inspect], she was a sixteen-year-old [Crop Protector], a Class focused on warding off insects and other pests. ¡°She stands up for you? She has the heart of a [Knight]! You have the heart of a skunk. Go away, skunk!¡± Govannon¡¯s gauntleted hands made fists, but Cowl put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s just go.¡± Govannon glared at Brin for a moment, and for a second he wondered if the [Page] was going to pull a knife. He made a ¡°tsk¡± sound and turned his back, and the other three followed him, marching in the direction of the tavern. When they were down the road and out of sight, Awsta sighed and said, ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Brin opened his mouth to deny that he should be called ¡®sir¡¯, but no, that was actually correct now, as strange as it was. It was one thing to be called that inside the halls of the Order¡¯s keep, it felt natural to respect rank and social classes there, but here in public it was strange. Since his mouth was already open, he said, ¡°I apologize for their behavior.¡± Cati shook her head. ¡°No need. I had it handled.¡± ¡°In their defense, I think they still think of themselves as Common villagers. I don¡¯t think they realize how it feels to get surrounded by four men in armor,¡± said Sion. ¡°Nevertheless, I thank you both, sirs,¡± said Awsta. ¡°Oh, no sir for me, and I believe I am making my friend quite jealous when I say this, but I am a quite Common and humble [Merchant],¡± said Sion. ¡°Oh! Then you must be the one who bought the Rowland house!¡± said Awsta. ¡°The same,¡± said Sion. ¡°Let me buy you both lunch, as a thank you! And as a getting-to-know-you, assuming you plan to stay here in town.¡± Brin and Sion made eye contact for a moment, and Brin said, ¡°Lunch sounds nice, but¨C¡± ¡°Oh no, I¡¯ve said something wrong. Cati, help me,¡± said Awsta. ¡°I believe,¡± Cati said slowly, eying Sion and Brin up and down like pieces of meat, ¡°that you just offered to buy a meal for two of the richest young men in Prinnash.¡± ¡°Untrue,¡± said Sion. ¡°Preposterous,¡± said Brin. ¡°Really,¡± said Cati, as a statement, completely not buying their fibs. ¡°It¡¯s my family¡¯s money,¡± said Sion. ¡°None of my money even arrived in Prinnash yet,¡± said Brin. ¡°Oh, this is even better then. I bet you¡¯re always paying; you never get treated. I might even get an Achievement!¡± said Awsta. Brin hesitated, but honestly didn¡¯t see the harm in it. In Hammon¡¯s Bog, a meal at the public house had been well within the allowance of most kids pre-System Day, and Awsta looked to be two years post-System Day. And¡­ he hated that his mind went straight to the [Witch] rules of hospitality, but if there was any trace of Wyrd, Brin would sense it long before it touched him or his friend. ¡°In that case, I¡¯d be delighted. I especially want to see the look on Sion¡¯s face when he¡¯s forced to let someone else pay for something for once,¡± said Brin. ¡°I will try to endure,¡± said Sion seriously. ¡°Though I thank Eridu that I purchased a house here in town; that way it will be easy for you to carry me back home should my heart fail me.¡± ¡°Oh, but we would have to go to the tavern,¡± said Awsta. ¡°There¡¯s really no place else¨C¡± ¡°They won¡¯t bother you again,¡± said Brin. ¡°Are you their commander?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯m their Second,¡± said Brin. ¡°Oh.¡± Awsta¡¯s face crinkled in worry, but then Cati said, ¡°No, the Second is better. Trust me.¡± They walked towards the Tavern side by side, and after a moment, Sion asked, ¡°You know, your Prinnashian when talking to your men was much poorer than it is now.¡± Brin rubbed his face. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me. I started doing it without thinking and now it¡¯s a habit I can¡¯t seem to shake. I think it makes me sound more intimidating, and I need all the help I can get.¡± ¡°Pio,¡± said Sion. ¡°What about him?¡± ¡°You¡¯re acting like Pio,¡± said Sion. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, I¡¯m not¡­ Sancta Solia I¡¯m Pio! I can¡¯t believe this! Why didn¡¯t I realize I¡¯ve become Pio? I¡¯m even doing the accent!¡± ¡°Who¡¯s Pio?¡± asked Cati. ¡°He was a [Beast Master], and second in command of the caravan me and Sion traveled with,¡± said Brin. ¡°And I¡¯m totally acting like him. You know, I just suggested to Cid the other day that he should pick a leader that he respects and just pretend to be him, and here I¡¯ve been doing the same thing the whole time without realizing it.¡± Sion laughed. ¡°At least you¡¯re wearing a shirt.¡± ¡°Why?¡± asked Awsta. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re wearing a shirt. Not to say that if you weren¡¯t¡­ what I mean is, why do you say that?¡± Brin grinned. ¡°Pio never wore a shirt. So at least in that way, I¡¯m not like him.¡± ¡°And he was a [Beast Master], right? You also don¡¯t have any animals,¡± said Awsta. Then noticing a knowing glance from Sion, she added, ¡°Do you?¡± Brin didn¡¯t spot Marksi anywhere, but that didn¡¯t mean he was nearby. He raised his voice, ¡°You might as well come out, Marksi! Nobody is angry with me anymore! He¡¯s sensitive to that sort of thing, you know.¡± Marksi undid his camouflage and appeared on the road ahead of them. Cati gasped in surprise, and Awsta made a squeal of delight. Marksi stood and moved to the side, striking a pose so that his form could best be admired in profile. Then he stepped lightly and proudly as a cat towards the group, so that he could receive his due affection. Brin picked him up first and gave him a few scritches before handing him over to Awsta, who needed no persuasion. Marksi took up the bulk of the conversation after that, pausing their short trek to the tavern for a while. When they finally got there, Brin went inside to find a wide open room that was extremely different from the public house in Hammon¡¯s Bog. For one thing, the entire structure was made of stone, which to Bogland sensibilities might as well be gold. There was a roaring fire despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, maybe to ward off some of the chill that came with the building being made of stone. It was oddly cozy, though, in its own way. There were thick rugs on the floor here and there, and the ceiling was low enough to make the space feel intimate. Some tables had games and cards laid out, and he spotted Rhun in the corner alone with a Jagosa board. Anwir and Aeron were nearby, messing with cards, and Cid and Hedrek sat together at the bar. That was a strange sight as well, because they were chatting casually and seemed to be in a fine mood. There¡¯d been so much tension with the Lance that it was easy to forget that those two were best friends. The four members of the Lance that Brin had chased away were at a nearby table, and they cast dark looks at Brin and Sion and the girls as they entered. He heard Govannon mutter, ¡°They always go for the jerks.¡± They pretended not to hear, but obviously Cati did, because her face went dark and she stomped to a table as far away from them as she could before sitting in a huff. When Brin and the other two joined her, she spoke quietly but intensely. ¡°Back at the castle I¡¯m invisible to them; they won¡¯t even look me in the eye. But now that they¡¯re visiting me in my home I¡¯m supposed to drop everything and jump in their lap. The nerve.¡± ¡°I was wondering about that. I thought most of the servants lived in the castle,¡± said Brin. ¡°Most do. Technically I¡¯m not actually hired on with the Order. They have better experience for my Class, though, so I help out in exchange for meals,¡± Cati explained. ¡°I actually live here.¡± ¡°I was wondering about that, too,¡± Brin said. ¡°What¡¯s the point of Talra? Oh, I didn¡¯t mean how that sounded.¡± ¡°No offense taken!¡± Awsta said, laughing. ¡°I wonder that myself.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just that you have some kind of farming Class, but the fields around here aren¡¯t really [Farmer] fields. More like big gardens.¡± ¡°I know the answer to this! Talra is famous across Prinnash for their unique mining of Moonstone,¡± said Sion. ¡°Well, yes,¡± said Awsta. ¡°That¡¯s true, except every word of that is wrong.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Sion leaned forward with genuine interest. Awsta counted with her fingers. ¡°Talra is too small to be famous anywhere. We aren¡¯t unique; there are three other towns nearby that do Moonstone. We don¡¯t technically mine it, since it isn¡¯t a mineral. It¡¯s actually a kind of mushroom that can only grow deep underground, and most of what we do is protect it from predators. The harvesting itself is quite simple. Oh, and it¡¯s not actually called Moonstone since it isn¡¯t a stone. The proper name is Moonblessing.¡± Sion pulled a notebook from his pocket and jotted all of that down. ¡°Fascinating.¡± Awsta was all too willing to expound on the life of a Moonblessing harvester, and only took a break when she remembered to order their food. ¡°And that¡¯s my uncle, so don¡¯t even think about trying to find a sneaky way to pay.¡± She asked them a little about their own lives. Sion spoke a little about the life of a [Merchant] and Brin talked about his experiences in the order. She was more fascinated by his stories about life in Hammon¡¯s Bog. She¡¯s seen [Knights] before, but had a hard time wrapping her head around life in a forest so thick with trees that you had to cut them back to plant fields, and where it was so rich in lumber that everyone could afford all kinds of bits and bobs made of wood, so long as they didn¡¯t mind if it were just ordinary instead of truly Bog Standard. When the food came, he found it was a thick and spicy stew over a bed of rice. It was delicious, and sort of reminded him of curry. He found it sort of homey, in a way. Comfort food, even though he¡¯d never tried anything quite like it. He found himself eating all too quickly, and looked up from an empty bowl to see that the rest of them were barely half-way through. A loud burst of laughter interrupted him, and he looked over to see if the Lance was laughing at him. No, they¡¯d started up some kind of gambling game, something with dice. Brych had just won, in a startling upset. He split off a portion of his mind to watch the game and figure out the rules. ¡°Well, I was a bit worried you wouldn¡¯t like it, but I see I worried for nothing,¡± said Awsta. ¡°This is delicious! What is this?¡± Sion had only taken three bites. ¡°This is called Gaelach, or Prinny, depending where you are. It¡¯s ordinary Prinnashian stew, though the spices vary from region to region. The seasonings used here are quite nice.¡± ¡°You mean you guys eat this all the time? You¡¯re so lucky,¡± said Brin. Awsta preened a bit under his praise and said, ¡°I¡¯m sure the food in Frenaria is just as good.¡± ¡°Sure, if you like unseasoned swamp monster with a side of mato. Ugh. Don¡¯t get me started on mato,¡± said Brin. ¡°I¡¯ve tried mato!¡± said Cati, raising her hand. Then when the other three looked at her she froze, suddenly nervous. ¡°I liked it though.¡± Brin sighed. ¡°Everyone does. I don¡¯t get it.¡± The two girls had to leave as soon as lunch was done, citing the need to actually finish their chores. ¡°Want to go bully Rhun a little? We need to give him a hard time for breaking your contract,¡± said Brin. Sion watched Rhun with a bit of steel in his gaze, a predatory glint that he nearly always masked. ¡°Next time. Let him sweat a little longer.¡± Rhun, who¡¯d been watching them out of the corner of his eyes, turned so that his back was completely towards them. Brin turned his attention back to the gambling game the Lance was playing. Hedrek, Anwir and Aeron had all moved over to join them, and Brin¡¯s split mind had pretty well figured out the rules. It had also noticed that Brych was cheating. Well, two could play at that game. Or three? He bet Sion had some [Merchant] Skills that would give him an edge here, too. ¡°Want to help me discipline my Lance? I have in mind to give them a lesson on the dangers of gambling,¡± said Brin. ¡°Ah, my friend, what a pleasant thought. Yes, I would be all too delighted!¡± Book 4 - Chapter 27 Brin¡¯s coin purse jingled in time with his steps as he ran ahead of the Lance. They¡¯d woken the Lance up right at dawn, just to punish anyone who¡¯d gone too far with their drinking last night. After Brin and Sion had absolutely fleeced the Lance in their gambling game the day before, Sion had purposely lost the final round after going all in, meaning that the entire winnings of the day were now in a small sack on Brin¡¯s belt. Some of the men had chosen to drink their woes away, with Hedrek outdrinking everyone, but since he was a high-Vitality [Knight] he¡¯d woken up fresh and chipper. The others were a lot worse off, and Brin could see them wincing every time that his full coin purse clinked. Aeron and Rhun looked the healthiest out of all of them. Rhun, because he¡¯d only had a single pint of beer, and Aeron because he¡¯d lost every penny he owned to the dice game and couldn¡¯t afford any alcohol. Normally Brin would secure any money he was carrying much tighter, and never in a sack at his belt that gave pickpockets an easy target, but today he wanted them all to see it. An object lesson on the dangers of gambling. Or a lesson against cheating for Brych? Or maybe Brin just enjoyed tormenting them. They ran a mile, then a second, and a few of the men started looking around like they expected to stop soon. Brin had no intention of that. They circled the keep in a wide arc, running through the stony fields. Four miles, then five. By eight miles even Brin started to feel winded, mostly because of the full plate armor. At ten, he finally let them rest, and stopped by a well so they could all get water. Cid took him aside, and tapped a hidden rune on his helmet. Brin felt the activation of sound magic; the helmet was using a low-powered but complex enchantment to give Cid privacy to speak to whoever he was aiming at, a necessity when leading a Lance that included a [Rogue]. Cid glanced down at Brin¡¯s coin purse. ¡°A bit brutal, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Brych was cheating,¡± said Brin. ¡°Were you cheating, too?¡± ¡°Well, sure, but that¡¯s not the point,¡± said Brin. Brych had been carefully switching out weighted dice from a hidden pouch under his greaves, which had taken an admirable amount of skill. Brin had just used a cup to roll his dice and switched the dots around while they were covered. He had no idea how Sion had done it. ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± said Cid. ¡°The point is that officers don¡¯t generally gamble with their subordinates for this exact reason.¡± ¡°Ok, but a Second isn¡¯t technically an officer. For this exact reason. And can we get back to Brych for a second? We can¡¯t let him go on like this.¡± ¡°But we can let you go on like this?¡± Cid asked with a smirk. ¡°Yes! Because I¡¯m a [Glassbound Invocationist] which is a weird but honorable Class, and he¡¯s a [Rogue]. And even when he becomes a [Knight], people are going to remember he got his start in a Rare Class by stealing things and lying to people. The first time these guys catch him cheating them, he¡¯ll lose their trust forever.¡± Cid looked at the ground, then back up, mouth turned in worry. ¡°That¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll do something about Brych. But¡­ I won¡¯t let you keep that money.¡± Brin shrugged. ¡°I figured I¡¯d buy everyone a treat once they stop being useless, or maybe use it as a prize for something.¡± Cid¡¯s shoulders relaxed. ¡°That¡¯s fine, then. I¡¯ll talk to Brych. I think this may be a Mr. Nice Guy conversation, as you put it. Oh, by the way, how was he cheating?¡± Brin told him, and then Cid walked over to pull Brych away from the rest of the men. Brin couldn¡¯t hear any of the conversation that followed. He probably could¡¯ve listened in with sound magic, but he couldn¡¯t be sure how well tuned Cid¡¯s enchantment was against eavesdroppers, and this wasn¡¯t worth risking it for. He¡¯d try to work his way around it some other time. Even without hearing anything, Brin thought he had a good idea of what was going on. Cid made a show of inspecting Brych¡¯s armor, and then pulled the hidden pouch out of hiding in the gauntlet. It was empty; at least Brych was smart enough for that, and he saw the [Rogue] laughing and deflecting. Cid spoke with a calm smile and knowing eyes, not challenging, but also not accepting any of Brych¡¯s excuses. Eventually, Brych¡¯s objections died down, and he said something looking at the ground, looking like he was near tears. Cid nodded and clapped him on the shoulders. Then the enchantment died and he heard Cid say, ¡°Good man,¡± before slapping his shoulder again and walking to the rest of them. ¡°Alright, gather round. I¡¯ve spoken with Brin and he¡¯s agreed to give you all your money back, provided that you¡¯ve all learned your lesson.¡± Everyone had been putting on a show of abject weariness, probably so that Brin wouldn¡¯t make them run again, but they perked up at those words. ¡°We have, sir!¡± Aeron volunteered. ¡°And what lesson did you learn?¡± Cid asked. ¡°No gambling.¡± Cid tutted. ¡°I¡¯d rather you say something about propriety. A [Knight] is still a [Knight] on his day off. He still represents the pride of his nation and his Order, and poor actions on his part reflect poorly on all of us as a whole.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Aeron said, and the other echoed it. ¡°Very well. Brin?¡± said Cid. Brin held up the sack, considering how he wanted to do this. ¡°I think we should split it evenly,¡± said Meredydd. The [Armsman] should have the [Skinflint] Class for the way he pinched pennies. He¡¯d lost the least out of all of them, choosing to quit the game early. A quick application of a directed thread searching through [Memories in Glass] gave Brin the number. ¡°You lost five copper pennies and two bits,¡± Brin said finally. Meredydd shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s no way to know that for sure.¡± ¡°I never forget a number when it comes to money. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re the same,¡± said Brin. He gave each of them the exact amount that they¡¯d spent, down to the iron bit. Aeron¡¯s pile was quite a bit larger than anyone else¡¯s, and Meredydd eyed it sourly. Honestly, if anyone else had suggested it, Brin probably would¡¯ve just split it all evenly and thrown in his and Sion¡¯s starter money to boot, but something about penny-pinchers got under his skin. Cid had Brin take over training for the entire rest of the day after that, and Brin put them through the ringer, alternating different kinds of weight resistance training with more aerobic workouts. By the end of the day he wasn¡¯t even getting any more angry muttering; they all seemed resigned to misery and were simply waiting for it to be over. After dinner, Brin went back to the sparring room to try again to break the piece of armor Meaty had given him, now that he had a full Mana pool. Cid went to a meeting with a bunch of older knights who were apparently all only there to give him advice. They were all the long-winded sort, the way that established, respected men could be when it had been at least a decade since the last time someone had interrupted them. At first Brin was happy that Cid was getting advice from somewhere and eavesdropped with rapt attention, but after he realized how boring this was all going to be, he could do nothing but pity Cid and be glad he didn¡¯t have to be there. He had some directed threads write it all down so that he could skim it later. After the meeting was done, he saw how even skimming the transcript would be a chore, so he had another directed thread summarize it for him. Cid asked about what trainings they should do, and the older knights had explained in detail that they should avoid any more sparring or weapons training for now. They all had Classes that could give levels for that kind of training, and they should try to get to [Squire] before they got any more Skills in their current Classes. They also had a lot to say on the subject of Brych, so it was no surprise to Brin that Cid left straight from there to go find Brych, who was lurking around alone in one of the unused rooms of the keep. Brin watched it all from an Invisible Eye when Cid found Brych in his hiding place. ¡°I had in mind to continue our conversation from earlier,¡± Cid said, leaning against the doorframe. It was a completely un-Cidlike mannerism; he was probably trying to look friendly and relaxed. ¡°Brin was cheating, too!¡± Brych said abruptly. ¡°What? I know. I¡¯m not here to talk about Brin,¡± said Cid. ¡°You know? So what, it¡¯s only because I¡¯m a [Rogue] that it¡¯s a problem? I¡¯ve seen the way you look at me, the way you all look at me. People have been looking at me that way ever since before I got my stupid Class. You look down on me for doing what I had to to survive, but you didn¡¯t grow up how I did. You don¡¯t know what I know.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not it at all. I¨C¡± Apparently, Brych had been stewing on this all day, because he let it all out. ¡°Everything I do is scrutinized, every mistake is twice as big as everyone else''s. Nothing can ever be good enough, not if it was done by a [Rogue]. Why does the Order even accept [Rogues] if you can never trust us? There¡¯s no way you would have noticed yesterday unless you were watching me like a hawk, and I bet you weren¡¯t watching Brin like that. Because he¡¯s the Second, so he can do whatever he wants? You have to admit¨C¡± Cid raised a hand to interrupt him. ¡°We¡¯re not here to talk about Brin. He¡¯s¡­ he is a whole other can of worms. You realize what a person has to do to get to that level at that age? He must either have done some very terrible things, or some very terrible things must¡¯ve happened to him. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready to untangle that knot. I think I¡¯d rather put him off until last. Once the rest of you are straightened out, we can work on him together.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Brych snickered, and he lost some of his defensive anger. Sancta Solia, Cid, say what you really feel, why don¡¯t you? ¡°You, however?¡± Cid continued. ¡°I think you¡¯re much closer. I noticed how quickly you picked up the horse training, how you only needed to be shown once and then completed each step correctly each time. That¡¯s talent. I feel that if I correct you in one or two simple ways, you¡¯ll be one of my very best knights, if not the best. Am I wrong to feel this way?¡± ¡°No, sir,¡± said Brych. ¡°I won¡¯t do it again.¡± ¡°Do what again? Gambling on your day off isn¡¯t a crime, Brych, and I can¡¯t actually prove that you cheated, can I? It¡¯s just a suspicion.¡± Brych couldn¡¯t meet Cid¡¯s eyes. ¡°A suspicion for a [Rogue] is more than just a suspicion.¡± Cid paused, and then straightened up from where he¡¯d been leaning on the door. ¡°Walk with me.¡± Brin¡¯s eye followed them as the two of them walked side by side in silence. Down a hall, then up a flight of stairs, and another, to the highest point in the keep where the lack of a wall on the hallway let them see right out into the world. The sun was setting, and from their perspective they could just barely make out a Lance of experienced knights riding back to the stables after a day on patrol. Though, with his eyes, Brych could probably see them quite clearly. ¡°I never liked that they call us Lances. In two weeks, when we combine for joint exercises, the history books will say that one-hundred and fifty Lances came together. That doesn¡¯t sound quite right to me. A [Knight] isn¡¯t a lance. A [Knight] has a lance, but that¡¯s not what we are. In his essence, a [Knight] is a shield. We are protectors. We protect the Order, the people, the innocent, and even each other. Especially each other. ¡°You¡¯re right, what you said before. We didn¡¯t grow up the way you did, and we haven¡¯t the experiences that you¡¯ve had. I think that in many ways, the rest of us are somewhat naive compared to you. These boys, they have no defense against things like deceit and manipulation. They will protect us against physical dangers, but when someone makes a plan to destroy a Lance of knights-at-arms, they don¡¯t think about swords and shields. They think about poison and traps. They think about cheating, Brych. ¡°And that¡¯s why the Order recruits [Rogues]. You¡¯re my only defense against danger of that sort. That¡¯s also why even the hint of suspicion is untenable. Because you¡¯re supposed to protect me and my men from that sort of thing. Your role isn¡¯t to take advantage of our weaknesses; your role is to shore them up. To be our shield. Will you be my shield, Brych?¡± Brych still seemed troubled, and he gazed intensely at the knights in the distance as if they had the answers to all his troubles, but when he answered his voice was firm. ¡°I will, sir.¡± All in all, it had been a pretty good speech, and Brin would¡¯ve been more impressed if Cid had actually come up with it on the spot. In actuality, it was nearly word for word the same thing one of the older knights had told Cid to say in his meeting. Still, the ability to sit through that bore-fest and actually learn something was impressive in its own right. Cid and Brych talked about more casual things after that, and Brin stopped eavesdropping on them. He felt a little bit bad that he hadn¡¯t told Cid about his own abilities. He could spot traps and watch for dangers better than any [Rogue], but he couldn¡¯t just go out and tell everyone he was an [Illusionist]. Besides, the Lance might be better off if he kept it to himself. If Brych really thought he was the only one capable of watching for dangers, he¡¯d take it more seriously and become a better teammate. Or was that just Brin justifying it to himself? He didn¡¯t know. He wouldn¡¯t let this backfire. If it ever really came down to protecting his Lance or keeping his secret, he¡¯d protect the Lance. Hopefully it would never come to that. Training continued, day after day, and the Lance fell into a pattern. Most days they¡¯d do half a day of conditioning with Brin, and then spend the rest of the time working on something else a [Knight] needed to know. Brych¡¯s attitude had improved somewhat, due to Cid¡¯s efforts, but that just had the effect of making it clear how far the rest of them still had to go. Govannon the [Page] was a constant source of self-pity and resentment. Cowl quietly did his duty but never spoke up and never defended himself against the ordinary jests and taunts that come with ten guys living together. Meredydd the [Armsman] questioned everything that didn¡¯t directly benefit him, and constantly tried to get people to pay him a bit here or a penny there for every little thing. Aeron the [Warrior] was competent enough on his own, but had little patience for Meredydd or Govannon. Anwir the [Hunter] was absolutely terrible at melee combat or wrestling, and was convinced he didn¡¯t need to learn since he¡¯d be using a bow. Rhun was a surprising source of dependability, but the worst was Hedrek, who insisted on doing every little thing just slightly wrong, because he didn¡¯t like Brin and he knew Cid wouldn¡¯t call him out on it. Cid tried on several occasions to get Hedrek to take over a training, but the only time he¡¯d accepted was with wrestling. Cid thought it was far enough away from sparring that it shouldn¡¯t earn the men too many levels, and it might actually help them get [Squire] since it was the primary way that [Knights] dealt with other [Knights]. It was quickly clear that the big guy only accepted command of wrestling lessons because he enjoyed pushing other men¡¯s faces into the mud, and maybe because it was the one thing Brin wasn¡¯t better than him at. Hedrek was an indomitable wrestler, even against two opponents at once. They spent a lot of time with the horses and Derec the [Horse Master]. He taught them how to act and behave around the animals, and gradually worked them up from simply staying on the horses to actually directing them. They then learned to ride while armed with swords and shields, and then drilled a few simple formations. They had more classroom-style lessons, where they learned how to talk to nobility versus commoners, what laws a knight-at-arms needed to know, what privileges they had as minor nobility, and what privileges they didn¡¯t have. At Brin¡¯s suggestion, Cid arranged a lesson on how to talk to girls. They disguised it as a lesson of conversational propriety. Lyssa had actually been the one to come talk to them, and Brin had to admit that even he had learned a couple things. She talked about the minor celebrity status that knights had in Prinnash, and how that meant they needed to watch their words more carefully in the future. If one of them said something as mundane as ¡°Nice shovel¡± to a [Farmer], he¡¯d take that as an order to hand over the shovel. Following that line of reasoning, if they ever invited a maiden to come spend time with them, she would either wonder if that was a marriage proposal or be quite convinced that she was being kidnapped. Lyssa had each of them roleplay a normal interaction and practice saying everything as indirectly as possible, so as to not accidentally take advantage of people. She ended the lesson by making it extremely clear that since they were all important people now, their parents would arrange their marriages and also that the Order would be extremely displeased if they were ever to find out about any illegitimate children. Once, Galan was back in the order long enough to lead a lesson. He gathered six Lances of newer recruits together, and then with no notes and hands behind his back, Galan recited the history of his Order from memory. He started with the rise of Iaghaid the Quiet, a nigh-invincible dragon that had terrorized the nation that was now Olland for dozens of years. The Order of the Long Sleep had been built from the ground up specifically to combat this one threat, though back then they were called the Order of the Vanquished Silence. For the actual battle, Galan recited a long string of epic poetry where the basic gist was that the Order had sent wave after wave of armored knights until the dragon couldn¡¯t fit any more in its mouth and it had choked. Galan admitted that the recitation was more poetic than historical, and he stopped short of actually saying who had actually dealt the killing blow and how, promising that they would hear more of the story once they¡¯d advanced further in the Order. More days came with more training, and soon Brin started to feel comfortable really pushing himself in the weight training, now that he was sure the others wouldn¡¯t slack off if he showed any weakness. The hard work after being idle for so long gave some nice results. Strength +3 Dexterity +1 Vitality +5 Will +1 Athletic Training +10 Before he knew it, two weeks had passed. The castle grew crowded as many Lances of the Order of the Long Sleep returned to headquarters at the same time, and the fields outside were covered with the tents of other Lances. It was time for the joint training. One more day to see how they shaped up compared to the other Lances. Then after that if they made a good showing, they¡¯d finally leave the castle on their first patrol. Book 4 - Chapter 28 Apparently the Order had no plans to let Brin and the Lance stay in their comfortable bunk room while the rest of the Lances were spread out in tents, because right after dinner a page entered their rooms and announced, "Order Of the Long Sleep Fifty-First Lance, you are hereby directed to assume battle posture in preparation for the joint activities on the morrow. Report to Commander Delwin for your camp location." The boy left again before anyone could question it, no doubt to go tell another Lance the same thing. "We''re the Fifty-First Lance?" asked Brych. Brin made a derisive snort, but he only know that from asking Cid a while ago. Most people just called them "Gurthcid''s Lance." Brin didn''t have a great idea of what "battle posture" meant, either, except for what he''d read in the manuals that Galan had given him. Normally discipline in the Order was fairly casual, with everyone working things out inside the boundaries of their individual Lances. He gathered that in a battle posture, that would change and leadership would be a lot more top down and formalized. Right now, all battle posture meant was confusion and chaos. Brin and Cid spent two hours wandering around trying to find someone who knew where Commander Delwin was. When they finally found out exactly which locked room Commander Delwin was operating from, the guards at the door made it clear he didn''t want to talk to any lowly Primes without an appointment. They spent another hour before they finally found a random servant who could tell them where to set up camp, and it took another hour before they figured out what supplies they were supposed to use. When Brin and Cid got to the campsite with the tents and other supplies, the men were all upset at having to wait around forever with nothing to do, and a very irritated-looking Lyssa was waiting for them as well. ¡°Where have the two of you been? You¡¯re an hour late and you missed the briefing, so now I get to do it all again. How wonderful for me.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± said Cid. Lyssa groaned in irritation and said, ¡°Whatever. You¡¯re to make camp here. Tomorrow morning when you hear the horn, you¡¯ll pack everything up again and then ride out with the rest of the knights. There are going to be a lot of eyes on us, so try not to embarrass the Order too badly.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll do you proud, ma¡¯am,¡± said Cid. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you will, but I hope you¡¯ll manage to avoid utter humiliation. My advice? Forget about points for now and try to copy what everyone else is doing,¡± said Lyssa. ¡°Points,¡± said Brin, perking up. ¡°What¡¯s this about points?¡± Lyssa rolled her eyes. ¡°There are [Watchful Knights] who will be monitoring the exercises. They¡¯ll give each Lance points, but like I said, forget about that for now and concentrate on¨C¡± ¡°How do I get more points?¡± Brin asked, suddenly filled with a hunger he didn¡¯t know was there. The regular hunger was also present, but this was deeper. This was the hunger of a man who¡¯d spent his formative years being graded on every little thing now suddenly thrust into a role where he didn¡¯t know if he was doing a good job or not. He wanted those points. ¡°I¡¯m already behind schedule. Just don¡¯t embarrass us, hm?¡± Lyssa marched away. ¡°You have to tell me more about these points,¡± Brin said to Cid, and added a belated, ¡°sir.¡± Cid raised his voice. ¡°Alright, gather around, all of you should hear this. Tomorrow during the exercises, each Lance will be graded based on their performance by a group of senior knights. They¡¯ll be watching for speed, efficiency, noble bearing, and adherence to the codes. Tomorrow we¡¯ll be expected to pack up camp, prepare our equipment which includes sharpening swords and polishing armor, equip our armor, fetch and saddle our horses, and then line up with the other Lances on the field. They won¡¯t begin to measure our performance before they sound the horn to wake us in the morning, but part of the criteria will be the state of our camp, so we¡¯ll need to set everything up correctly tonight.¡± ¡°What do we get if we win?¡± asked Meredydd. ¡°No prize,¡± said Cid. ¡°This is an exercise to help us all see how we measure up to the codes and the other Lances.¡± ¡°Oh, good, then it doesn¡¯t matter,¡± said Meredydd. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter? Are you insane? There are points on the line!¡± Brin found himself pacing. They more or less knew how to do all of those things, so the real goal would be to figure out how to streamline and expedite all those jobs. ¡°Can we all sleep in our armor?¡± he asked. ¡°No. Only two,¡± said Cid. ¡°Hedrek and Rhun,¡± said Brin. Those two had the highest Vitality outside of Brin and Cid so they¡¯d sleep the easiest, but he had other reasons. He chose Rhun because the [Warrior] had a proud streak a mile long and always complained if someone else suffered more than him. As for Hedrek, his armor today had been put on by a servant; Brin didn¡¯t want to see how sloppy Hedrek would look if he dressed himself. The rest of the guys would at least try to do a good job, and Brin could fix their armor himself if he needed. ¡°That sounds reasonable,¡± said Cid. Brin said, ¡°The rest of us should figure out now what tasks we¡¯ll take on in the morning. We can divide into pairs, with each group focusing on a single task¨C¡± ¡°Or we could all just take care of our own business, the way we always have before now,¡± said Meredydd. ¡°Yeah, that sounds good,¡± said Brych. ¡°Let¡¯s go with that one,¡± said Govannon. ¡°Completely out of the question,¡± said Brin. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I think this may be grounds for discussion,¡± Cid said. ¡°What are everyone¡¯s thoughts?¡± Don¡¯t these people care about points? Brin opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it again. He had told Cid to be Mr Nice Guy in situations like this, and much as he hated to admit it, he needed everyone¡¯s buy-in here. If he told everyone exactly what to do it might work, but if he really wanted high performance then everyone needed to be convinced they were on the right track. Before any of the men could start voicing their ideas, Hedrek hefted one of the canvas sacks containing a tent and said, ¡°Well, might as well get started then. Nothing says we have to hang around here all night. The sooner we¡¯re done here, the sooner we can head off.¡± Hedrek was about to do a sloppy job and then disappear, and Brin absolutely did not want that. Thinking fast, Brin said, ¡°Actually, Hedrek, I wonder if you¡¯d do me a favor?¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°You have some friends in the other Lances, right? I wonder if you could chat up some of the men who¡¯ve been through this a time or two and see if they have any tips or tricks? We¡¯ll set up camp in case you aren¡¯t back in time.¡± Hedrek grinned broadly. ¡°Yeah. Ok, I can do that.¡± With Hedrek gone, Cid was able to lead a fairly productive conversation, although it was productive in all the wrong ways. Brin wasn¡¯t able to get anyone else on board with the idea of splitting into groups, especially when Meredydd made it clear he wasn¡¯t going to volunteer to take care of everyone¡¯s weapons and armor, insisting it was something everyone needed to know how to do for themselves. They¡¯d work together to pack up the tents, but no one wanted to go into the particulars of exactly what that would look like, and then after that it was every man for himself. As frustrating as it was to not get them on board with the most efficient process, he reluctantly admitted there was some logic to this as well. This way, he¡¯d be able to see who was best at what tasks, and where the biggest problem areas were. Cid ended up putting his foot down on a single topic. ¡°Neither Hedrek nor I will assist with the horses in any way. We will mount them only after they are prepared and led to us. The reason for this is simple: preparing the horses for [Knights] is one of the most tried and true methods for unlocking the [Squire] Class.¡± Of course no one argued with that in the slightest. While they spoke, Brin used Invisible Eyes to watch the other Lances and see if there was a trick to how they set up camp. With two hundred Lances from a dozen different Orders on the field, there were camps of all shapes and sizes, but he noticed that about two dozen of them were set up in exactly the same formation. Two tents side by side, the chest for supplies perpendicular to the tents and to the left, and then a cooking fire exactly ten feet away. That sort of matched what he¡¯d read in the manuals, so he figured that was what they were looking for. The others were more than willing to help set up camp, which was an encouraging sign, but it really wasn¡¯t more than a two person job and Cowl the [Porter] ended up doing most of the work since he knew where all the supplies were. The end result made Brin proud; no matter how much they screwed up tomorrow, he was fairly confident that they¡¯d at least done this right. Hedrek returned to camp way too late, but to Brin¡¯s surprise, he actually had a few words of useful advice. He told everyone to sleep dressed and keep their shoes on; apparently being quick to leave their tents after the horns blew would be an easy source of points. He also said that they should take the time to brush the horses before saddling them. Even though that was something typically done in the evenings, the judges liked to see the knights spoiling their horses, and this wasn¡¯t something that should be rushed. Brin hardly slept that night. He was fully aware how ridiculous it was that he was so worried about getting a lot of points; he knew it didn¡¯t really matter in the long run. But he wanted them, and he couldn¡¯t logic himself out of wanting what he wanted. Despite staying up too late, he felt refreshed and alert when the trumpets blared in the morning. After getting [Dreamguard], he¡¯d never had a bad night¡¯s sleep. He was up and out of the tent in seconds, armor in hand. He made his way to the storage chest, undid the lock, and searched inside to find the armor polishing equipment. For daily maintenance, they used a little oil and a stiff brush to buff out any spots of rust that might hypothetically pop up on regular armor and would never ever pop up on Meaty¡¯s enchanted armor. After that, they used a cloth to polish it again, making it shine. Brin finished his armor quickly, but he found the first flaw in their ¡°everybody do it yourself¡± plan. There was only one armor polishing kit in their supplies, so they could only work one at a time. When he was done, he passed the brush, oil, and cloth to Cowl, who seemed a little worried to see his tools in the hands of an amateur. If the [Porter] was this anxious about a brush, how was he going to act when they started using the rest of his stuff? If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. After polishing his armor, Brin went to sharpen his Bog Standard glass spear, which fundamentally did not need sharpening. He ran the sharpening stone over it softly anyways, because he figured the judges wanted to see him go through the motions. After that, he ran his iron man program, using glass magic to snap his armor into place. He¡¯d refined it over and over in the last few weeks, using the servants as a guide, and now he could get his armor in perfect order in a matter of seconds. The others had to wait their turns for the polishing equipment, which didn¡¯t turn into as much of a bottleneck as Brin had feared. It wasn¡¯t a job that needed finesse, so they could rush it. The sharpening was another story. Cowl had two sharpening stones, but only let Meredydd use his ¡°nice¡± one, so the rest of them all had to wait their turns for the other. The men still waiting their turns decided to start pulling down the tent, but again, Cowl leapt in to slow things down. He had a particular system for how he wanted everything folded and stored, and kept running back and forth between the guys packing the tents and the guys sharpening their swords, scolding them all and stopping everything done. For all the things Brin had expected to go wrong, it wasn¡¯t this. Calm, dependable Cowl was the one person he hadn¡¯t worried about. Brin helped the men don their armor, and luckily no one tried to tell him they didn¡¯t need help. He fixed straps, re-tied and tied knots that hadn¡¯t been done correctly, and tried to make everyone look as good as if servants had helped them. By the time they all had their armor, several of the Lances were already on their horses and lined up in position. As for their horses, Brych and Aeron arrived as the corral first, and insisted on being the ones to prepare Cid and Hedrek¡¯s horses before anyone else could. They also refused to let Brin help with their horses, for fear that he might steal their chance at getting the [Squire] Class. That meant that even though they¡¯d been the first to start, they arrived in line a full five minutes after the rest of them. Brin scanned the area with Invisible Eyes and found that out of the two hundred Lances, only twelve had been slower than his group. When he told Cid this, Cid sighed in relief. ¡°Thank the gods we aren¡¯t last.¡± After that, there was a lot of waiting. Two thousand knights-at-arms stood lined up in a single row, facing a long and empty field, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. They stood there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting. An hour passed. Some of the horses started acting anxious, some stepped out of place. No one seemed to notice or care. He¡¯d been warned about this. He hadn¡¯t been in the armed forces in his old life, but he¡¯d heard stories from the people who had. Different armed forces had different idiosyncrasies and different tics, but one thing seemed to unite them, one motto that crossed branches and even nations and cultures: Hurry up and wait. Brin used that time to watch through his Invisible Eyes, of course, but there wasn¡¯t much to look at. No one was doing much of anything. He found Lyssa, marching across the field headed somewhere. He found the different commanders from other Orders, all watching the line from a distance. He eventually found Galan and¡­ score! Galan stood side by side with a man in beautiful white armor, trimmed with golden vines and leaves. This could only be him. This was Lothar, the sole member of the Order of the Golden Ivory. Brin moved his Invisible Eye in for a close look, and the Lothar immediately turned his head to stare directly at it. His helmet obscured much of his face, but Brin saw piercing green eyes staring confidently and knowingly directly at his Invisible Eye. He dismissed it out of reflex. That¡­ that had to have been a coincidence, right? Lothar was probably looking at something else. Still, Brin didn¡¯t dare to summon another Invisible Eye to check again. Another half hour passed. Finally, a horn sounded in the distance. The knights who¡¯d drifted out of place quickly got into line again. A voice came across the field. Amplified by some kind of Skill, it wasn¡¯t painfully loud but sounded crystal clear in Brin¡¯s ears. ¡°On my order, you will charge!¡± Already? He didn¡¯t know how to charge! He figured they¡¯d walk them through it the first time, or at least tell them what to do or what to expect. Was he supposed to get his spear out? He¡¯d sort of practiced galloping a couple times, but Derec the [Horse Master] had never had them charge before. The voice called out again. ¡°[Charge!]¡± Brin charged. All thought was gone, all doubt was gone. He knew exactly what to do, how to move, and so did his horse. He was leaning forward, his spear already out and facing forward. His legs were tensed, and somehow he knew his body was positioned just right to help his horse get every ounce of power into the charge. It wasn¡¯t that the Skill was controlling him exactly, more like it was helping him understand what to do that was best. He could turn away if he wanted, but there was no part of him that wanted to. He felt a connection with Nobility that he¡¯d never felt with anything before, not even with Marksi. He felt the Vitality in his body moving with and mixing with the Vitality of his horse, pulling together and putting all of it into the Skill. The Skill in turn pushed them forward, and Brin felt power like he¡¯d never felt before. The only thing he could compare it to was when he¡¯d first gotten [Scarred One]. The quick influx of power was intoxicating; he didn¡¯t ever want it to end. All too soon, however, the power dried up. Brin stopped. Nobility slowed to a stop, his coat covered in sweat and his mouth hanging open and panting. Brin immediately felt a wave of dizziness and swayed in his saddle, only staying mounted with supreme effort. The wave of lethargy soon faded, but a certain amount of weariness stayed in place; that was the after-effect of [Knight¡¯s Charge]. Incredible power, but it came at the cost of stamina. Could Brin fight right now if he had to? Probably, but he wouldn¡¯t enjoy it. He waited for orders, to see what else they¡¯d be doing today, but they never came. The knights dismounted their tired horses and eventually started leading them slowly back to the corrals, which was the first point that Brin realized how far they¡¯d come. That charge had lasted seconds, but they¡¯d ridden an entire mile. They wearily made the journey back. They brushed, groomed, fed, and overall babied their horses. Then they walked back to their campsite and collapsed down onto the ground, no one ready to set up their tents again. Brin thought he¡¯d be able to take a nap right there, and honestly, nothing was stopping him. Except for notifications that took that moment to make themselves known. Through training, you have earned the following attribute: Vitality +1 Alert! You have advanced an Achievement. Knightly (Common) You have utilized the [Knight] Skill [Knight¡¯s Charge]. You have an improved affinity towards martial Classes. You have an improved affinity for the [Knight] Class. You will be offered a combat Skill at your next Skill selection. Brin tried to force himself to be excited, but he was still too tired. He could understand, analytically, that this was amazing, even if his heart wasn¡¯t in it. If this was what it was still doing at Common rarity, how much could he look forward to when it was Rare? Eventually, the men recovered well enough to be hungry. They¡¯d rested all the way through lunch, so Cowl prepared them a doubly large dinner. After that, a [Watchful Knight] came by to deliver a slip of paper. Order Of the Long Sleep Fifty-First Lance Herein is a reporting as to your conduct and performance in the first day of joint exercises. In your setup and position of camp you are awarded: 6/20 Camp orientation was south-southwest. Eastern orientation is desired. In your readiness you are awarded: 20/20 You were adequate in your ability to exit your tents in a timely manner in appropriate attire. In your polishing of armor you are awarded: 7/20 You were slow, disorganized, and uncoordinated in your polishing of armor. Hedrek, Aeron, and Brych had points confiscated for insufficient work. ¡­ Much of the awards were exactly what Brin had expected. They hadn¡¯t done particularly well at taking down camp or sharpening their weapons. At the end of the list it gave them a total score, 136, and also told them that they were in 152nd place, which meant that even though they were slow they¡¯d placed above a full 48 other Lances. Brin had to admit that most of that was due to Hedrek. His tips about sleeping fully dressed and going the extra mile with grooming the horses had really paid off. Brin was frustrated when he read that he was the only person who got dinged for not sharpening his weapon well enough. It didn¡¯t need sharpened! Well, that was easily solved. He could just replace his Bog Standard spear for a random steel spear for the remainder of the exercises. In fact, he could already see a dozen things they could do better. When he showed the score to the other men, they were all very pleased to find they hadn¡¯t done terribly, and when Brin started giving his ideas on how to improve, he got a lot less pushback. The score and the feeling of [Charging] with the army of knights had given them a confidence boost and now they were starting to feel some enthusiasm for getting points. Brin realized why he¡¯d been so obsessed with points all day. This was what they needed. They needed a win. The entire time they¡¯d been together, they¡¯d been the screw-up Lance, the Lance that no one expected anything from. That was why it was so hard to unify them; no one wanted to be the loser team. Victory is what united men, and now they had a chance to win at something. Tomorrow, they wouldn¡¯t be aiming to avoid embarrassment. Tomorrow, they¡¯d be aiming for the top.