Chapter 24 – Pre-Game Preparations (Patreon)

The next minute was confusing and alarming both. As I hit the ground, I'd lost an extra smidgen of stamina, leaving me unable to act, trapped as an observant inside my stunned body. Surrounding me was a cacophony of sounds and people and everybody seemed to be yelling all at once. Some seemed to be clamoring for my head while others tried to restore a semblance of peace. With my stamina slowly building towards zero, I might as well check out the one thing I could do something about. That said, I focused on the blinking notification, bringing up a pop-up.

[Quest updated. "Tall standards"

The warrior instructor Tarkos requires you to pass three tests before he will accept you as his patron. You have proved yourself in combat and by completing the Hazing Trail in second place.

- Convince the instructor to accept you (Games begin in 6 days, 23 hours and 32 minutes)

Quest reward: 

Entrance to the Honor Games

500 experience points

300 reputation with the Fallen of Nerit]

Damn - I'd only made second place. But how did that make sense? Doh. If I could move my hand I'd have slapped my forehead. Tarkos did mention that there were two spots left for the Honor Games, not one - this was a success for me. My attention returned to the chaos surrounding my fallen body and I waited impatiently for the final stamina point to recover, allowing me sit up in an unsteady fashion. Just in time too, as Tarkos strode into the finishing area, pointing at me with a furious look on his face.

"You. Half-breed scum. Explain what you did!"

"I - well, I spotted somebody about to throw a dagger at me, and I attacked them first."

His face darkened - a feat I didn't even know they were capable of. "What? You readily admit to that?" He turned towards the crowd and gestured for them to quieten. After a while and some threatening gestures from the warriors keeping guard, they did. "Condemned by his own words. He has broken the rules and we will..."

With a shout, I interrupted. "Oh PITS no. I have broken no rules!" I hurried onwards, ignoring the look of absolute fury on Tarkos' face. "And may Thracken strike me with lightning this very moment, should I be speaking a falsehood." Waiting a moment in theatrical silence, I turned back towards Tarkos and lowered my voice. "No potions. No spells. No attacking people on the trail. I can't remember your exact words, but that was the gist of it, right? Want to take it before Oath and see who's right?" Was this a moronic idea? I needed his assent in order to complete the quest, but it felt like there was something to gain here from prodding him and keeping him off balance.

He shook a finger at me, fuming, before he let it drop to his side and a small, smug smile grew on his face. He addressed the crowd again. "The winners have been confirmed." He proceeded to recite the order of the runners, arriving at last at me in second place, and the first place, Areck. He continued, "Only two of these persons will be be granted acceptance into the Honor Games, however. Usually, this process is closed to the public. This time, however, I will make an exception, allowing everyone present to see as Thracken's will is done. Contestants! Line up before me, in order of succession."

Hrm. That could be the exact opening I wanted. At least, now he'd have to make a decision right away - stalling and going for his old crew members wasn't an option. All runners lined up before Tarkos who had conveniently been able to arrange a piedestal to make himself visible to the onlookers - and appear superior, I added in my silent mind. There wasn't much time to deliberate, as the solemn Instructor called the frontrunner before him.

"Horack. Former hunter, now Anathema, three years hence." The formal words reeked of ceremony - a process repeated so often that the words had gone from mere question to something graven wrapped in ritual. "You have proved yourself before all of us. We have tested your resilience and resolve, your endurance and adaptability and found you acceptable for the Honor Games. What remains to be tested is your spirit, before Thracken and Nerit. Do you consent to this?" 

Horack bowed his head in assent.

"You were deemed Anathema for sloth and cowardice. On several occasions, you refused participating in hunts you pronounced too dangerous or unnecessary. You put your needs before those of the many. What has changed?"

Horack remained with his head bowed, but his voice came out strong and firm. "My time among the Fallen has taught me a lot. I now see how easy a life I have lived, how selfish my choices were and what it takes to help people who rely on you. From now on, I will not shirk my duties." Even those words seemed formal - like he'd rehearsed them beforehand.

They did the trick though, because Tarkos launched into a speech about the honor of admitting your failures, becoming a productive part of society once more...and o whole bunch of other stuff. I tuned out most of it, while my mental cogs worked overtime. Now I saw the trap Tarkos had lain - when he asked me the same questions, I couldn't come up with any reasonable answer. I'd been cast down in the first place - ostensibly by old man Thracken himself - because I was a caster and a tinkerer, and I couldn't very well change that. So unless I was willing to turn on Serune, I'd have to come up with an alternative. Perhaps...oh. Tarkos truly wasn't going to like this. Muriel was going to love the show, however.

While Tarkos droned on, I went over what I was going to say - and when he turned towards me, I was prepared.

"Archangelo." He spat the name. "Formerly nothing, now Anathema, two weeks hence. You have proved yourself before all of us. We have tested your resilience and resolve, your endurance and adaptability and found you acceptable for the Honor Games. What remains to be tested is your spirit, before Thracken and Nerit. Do you consent to this?" 

"Of course."

"You were deemed Anathema for pride. You were offered a generous chance to earn your place in Nerit in any of our castes, but refused. You even refused the words of Thracken himself. What has changed?"

I took a deep breath, and did everything I could to appear a proper, penitent fan of Thracken and all his wisdom. "I have changed. Now, I can see what I failed to understand initially. My belief was that Thracken would only ever accept casters in the church itself. Now, I have been allowed to pierce the veil and see that you are allowed to earn your place among the warriors of Nerit, regardless if your weapon of choice is sword, bow or magic. Due to that, I understand how wrong I was - and that my fervent desire is to earn my place among the warriors of Nerit." This, of course, was utter hogwash. In fact, the stocky old Liberator himself had said something like "We only accept casters in the church." Still, the fact that they'd allowed me to use my spells in two of the three tests to date made it somewhat believable hogwash, which was what I was counting on. Before Tarkos decided that I'd finished and started judging me, I hurried onwards, "My second, and more important reason is very personal, and I would ask you to listen to it privately first. If you decide that it should be revealed to everybody afterwards, that is of course your prerogative."

Emotions flittered over his face – suspicion and stubbornness followed by curiosity. To my advantage, curiosity won out, and he beckoned me forward. "All right. This had better be good."

Keeping my voice low and face neutral, I whispered. "Oh it is. See, there's this guy, Menerck." Instantly, Tarkos' eyes fixed on me, trying to stare through me. "Yeah, he ran away from home. Of all the possible places to go in Neyrus, he shacked up with my bard instructor. Small world, right? He's a talkative fellow though, isn't he?" I shook my head. "It took me a while to piece everything together, but eventually, I got there. Right, you wanted me to keep it short. Sorry. Yes, I know that you stole the dagger from the Liberator. Yes, I know where it is. Yes, this is blackmail. Either you let me pass or I return here with Menerck and the dagger to take you down."

"You. You are out of your mind. I will kill you here and now."

I allowed the side of my mouth to quirk up. "Reborn, remember? That won't help you much." I activated my High Tide skill, "I'll toss you a bone though. If you let me pass, I'll let the dagger lie where it is and will never approach Menerck again. Deal?" For a while, I believed that I'd pushed him too far. 

Tarkos' nostrils flared, and the hatred in his eyes was tangible. After an oppressive period had passed, he straightened and addressed the crowd. "I have reviewed the words of Archangelo. There is a weight to his arguments that holds true. I should like to share it with you here, today - but as Thracken learned, to his detriment, there is value in keeping personal things close to the heart. As such, I will respect his wishes - and congratulate him on earning his way into the Honor Games." 

Yes! Acting was not Tarkos' strong side, but he caved. He actually caved! I heard very little of what followed - it was all ceremonial and basically a protracted congratulations for the two of us, and a ‘better luck next year’ for the rest. I found it hard to contain the beaming smile that found its way to my face constantly. After the ceremony, a surprising number of Fallen came to congratulate me. Not a single warrior though - my rep was still too crappy for that. It took a while, but finally, I made my way out of the compound and found a quiet place to look at the quest update.

[You have completed the quest. "Tall standards"

You have completed all tests put before you by the warrior instructor Tarkos. 

Quest reward:

You have received 500 experience points. Experience towards next level: 1345/4000.

Your reputation with the Anathema of Nerit has increased by 300. (+20%) =360. New reputation 2410 (Liked)

Your reputation with Instructor Tarkos has decreased by -1000 (+40%) =-1400. New reputation -6250 (Hated)]

[You have been offered a new quest "Let the Games Begin"

Earning an entry ticket to the Honor Games of Nerit is not an easy task, but you have succeeded. The stakes are high, but the goal is in sight. Win the annual Honor Games in order to earn a place among the rank of warriors of Nerit.

Reward: 

Mark of Anathema removed. Reputation with the castes of Nerit restored.

1000 experience points

1000 reputation with all castes of Nerit

500 additional reputation with the warrior caste of Nerit.

A selection of items.

Accept/Decline?]

On top of that, I'd been rewarded with +2 to my Blackmail skill. So not only did your skills increase faster when your life was on the line, but also when the stakes were high. Thank you Exogenics! Just two more skill increases for Apprentice level – and to think I thought I’d never use it.

Dinner that night was a lively experience. They'd all gone off to see the run and had been kind enough to prepare a feast in honor of my victory. I couldn't deny being touched by their gesture. The evening meal was an animated experience, with all three taking part in the conversation.

Arack was the animated one, as usual. "And then, when that apple hit you, I thought you were done for. I wanted to bring something to toss as well, but Darek thought it'd be bad form - boring old man."

Darek contributed, "The one you said was going to attack you - it was Talen, right? I spotted some of his group among the onlookers. Even so, I had not imagined that he would stoop as low as this."

I was about to answer, when Muriel spoke over him through a mouthful of Darya's latest invention - smoked sausage stuffed with herbs. "Screw all that. We already know Talen's a backstabber. I need to know what you told Tarkos. Seriously. He looked like he was about to stab you, not reward you!"

I grinned at Muriel, taking my time to savor the contents of my own plate. "So you noticed that. Of course, my friend - I'd love to tell you. If only I hadn't sworn to keep it a secret." He tossed a piece of vegetable at me, and I couldn't restrain my laughter. "I need to tell you something else, though - all of you. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. If it weren't for you, I'd never have made it this far. Pits, I might just have ended at the mercy of Talen and his gangs. Your taking me in was a godsend - but everything after that? Well, I had never counted on finding friends in Nerit, but I'm thrilled I did." 

A moment of silence was interrupted by the arrival of Arack, who threw herself at me with a squeal, to give me a huge hug. "We love you too. You're crazy, but that's part of the charm."

I was still fending her off, as Darek cleared his throat. "Be that as it may - we need to talk." Donning a serious face, I nodded, and he . "You've made it to the Honor Games. I will be honest and say that I did not expect you to make it this far. Therefore, we have not gone over what the Games entail. We should do this and discuss what this means and how you should prepare."

"That's true, I guess. I thought it was supposed to change from year to year though, kept secret and whatnot."

"Only the initial quests where you need to convince your caste that you are worthy to represent them. The Honor Games themselves follow a ritualized form, though the approach may vary. We have three tests - Craftsman, Hunter and Warrior. If you aspire to become a Craftsman, you need only complete the Craftsman's Challenge. However, should you want to become a warrior..."

"You need to complete all three - got it. What about gatherers and farmers though?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "They need only pass the initial quests - having a gatherer complete a combat test would make no sense. As for the rest:

The Craftsman's Challenge is where the crafter's caste comes together to show off all the traps they have created over the year. They create a number of marked paths and you need to make it through it to the end, however you choose to do it."

"That...seems like it'd be quite a lot easier for crafters to complete than the rest."

"You should think so - except crafters have it harder - they get the added difficulty of having to dismantle the traps they encounter - they can't just dodge them or bull through. That is beside the point for you though.

The Hunter's Prowl is - a misleading name, to be frank - because you will not be the one doing the prowling. You will be given a task to perform within the Arena - and a select group of hunters will be stalking you and hinder or attack you. It is a test of both your observation abilities, evasion and planning."

My hackles raised at that. "A select group of hunters. So you're saying I'm bound to bump into Talen again?"

"Well - yes. Hunters are selected for their skills, but there is a certain amount of prestige involved. Both counts put Talen near the top of the list."

Cracking my knuckles, I nodded to myself. I was going to beat the everloving crap out of that annoying, murderous little snake - and then I was going to get creative. 

Darek continued, "The Warrior's Call is at the same time the most simple and challenging of the three tests. It's a simple duel, one on one. No limitations, no tricks and above all, no holding back. Fight until surrender. However, the warrior chosen for the task is among the top-ranked warriors of Nerit."

Shaking my head in disbelief, I asked, "First you have to outsmart the crafters. Then outfox the hunters - and last, beat the best warriors. How the pits do they expect a Fallen to achieve that? Especially, if they've lived a few years with bad food and no real training?"

Muriel interjected, "Oh they don't. I can't even recall the last time somebody was raised to warrior." He made a rude gesture at the ceiling.

Darek's stern frown caused him to back off. "First off, most contenders try for one of the lesser castes. Every year, a couple of us manage to obtain the mercy of Thracken and gain at least the status of Gatherer or Craftsman. You are trying to bypass the entire system and aim for the highest rank available. In all honesty, you should be pleased that it is even a possibility. Also, yes, it has been at least eight years since somebody succeeded as a warrior." 

I spread my hands in a placating gesture. "Apologies. I hadn't considered it like that."

He nodded, mollified. "On to the practical issues. We have a week to prepare. I believe we should spend some time focusing on the different types of traps before we..."

"Actually - that won't be necessary."

"Archangelo, you should not be flippant. The craftsmen of Nerit have shown considerable talent with their inventions."

I shook my head. "Trust me. I have this covered."

His tail swished back and forth in annoyance, but he damped it down. "If you say so. In that case, we should focus our efforts on avoidance and strategies."

Arack looked like she was about to burst. "And throwing! If you have more of those bombs with area effects - that was super effective."

Nodding along with both of them, I added, "Agreed. I have one final request for all of you, as well. Could we please talk only in your language from now on? I still have a lot to learn, and this might speed up my comprehension."

Muriel shrugged and continued in kobold. "I guess. We'll try to use small words, so you can understand us."

"Har har har. Dumbass. Was that correct?" I stuck out my tongue at him.

Teasing aside, that came to be the plan for the following week. Combat training and language training filled up the vast majority of my day. The only luxuries I allowed myself were my daily trips to play in the square and the occasional trip to see Darya and Atlas. Even with these restrictions, however, I was losing sleep. Well - 'losing' wasn't quite right - more like 'sacrificing.' The day of the Games was drawing ever closer, and I was running out of time. The secrets of Greck's book kept eluding my understanding. Having read the entire book a few times over, I definitely understood the gist of it, but there were certain passages that I just couldn't quite follow. As for the parts, I did follow - well, the short version would sound something like this:

Young Greck grows up oblivious, accepts all the stories told by the Church and other authorities as gospel truth. 

Greck joins the church of Thracken as a bard. His talents gain him praise and special treatment en masse.

In addition to additional praise, the growing talents of our bard earn him additional responsibilities. He does good. Promotions ensue.

Something happens. Not sure what. Greck starts questioning the state of affairs. 

He manages to get at some answers. Vague ones. He does not like what he hears.

He delves too deep. He gets the answers he wanted but he also alerts somebody to the fact that he isn't really with the program anymore. 

He's 'questioned.' by the Liberator himself. Not exactly kid friendly reading.

Our hero is banished.

To be fair, the book had plenty of filler. Greck used to have a penchant for flowery phrases and a touch of the dramatic and it could take him quite some time to get to the point. Still, I was certain that the book held the missing link I needed in order to understand the situation in the city and the power struggle between the church and the chief.  Maybe I'd even get to understand my drunken master a tad better.   

Regarding the combat training, it seemed we were moving on. Darek announced that my tactical understanding had reached a decent beginner level and the remaining time would be better off spent working on my actual skills. With that short introduction, we suddenly ended at the grinding sessions of hell I'd initially dreaded. The image I had of Darek as an even-tempered, experienced kobold dissipated, replaced by that of a whip-wielding slave master. We'd spend half the day alternating between working on my Unarmored Dodge and Acrobatics skills - as pain-filled a training regime as I'd ever tried - and grinding my spells. 

Darek allowed me to take part in deciding which spells to single out. At first, I debated sharing the love between all spells, but then decided against it, focusing only on the skills and spells that were close to Apprentice level. Some of the bonuses were pretty worthwhile and would be well worth trading a possible could of spell levels elsewhere for. The only exception would be Multicast which I’d be leveling regardless, since I was dead certain I’d need it.

My visits to the Beggar's Court became my daily breather and respite. I kept my performances to an hour - otherwise I'd just lose myself to the music and forget about everything I needed to do before the final tests. Following a discussion with Arack, I switched it up a bit, arriving at a different time and via a different route each day so as to confuse anybody with a grudge. By now, the few initial protesters had long since stopped their harassment and I was free to play without distractions. The Fallen knew what I was there for and accepted my presence. Most people went along on their merry way when I started playing, but there'd always be a solid crowd hanging around. 

To my surprise, some of them were warming up to me, chatting me up before or after my performances. Some taught me songs or melodies they would love to hear. Others simply longed for a friendly ear - somebody who'd share there plight without judgement. IRL, I'd never owned the 'bartender' gene - that intangible, but undeniable, presence. The one that made everybody spill their innermost secrets to some gloriously bearded guy named Charles after merely sniffing at a beer bottle. In Nerit, however, this was who I became. An outsider, but somebody to trust. A person who did not care for personal gain. Somebody who would listen. Who would understand. And who didn't judge you. I don't know how the rumor mill worked - especially since I was arguably all about personal gain - but just this time, it wasn't off target. I did care little about the rivalries and petty gains of the Anathema, and if my attention and silent acceptance was enough to ease their day, it cost me nothing. Also, as much time as I spent around these folks, it was easy to see that most of them were decent people put in a crumby situation.

On the third evening, I had just finished playing and was packing up, as a repeat customer came walking up. At first, I didn't notice him, as I was congratulating myself on finally hitting Honored reputation with the Fallen. As soon as I saw him, though, a smile rose on my face all by itself. Mathek was an elderly, scrawny kobold with a dirty mouth and a wonderfully dark sense of humor to boot. 

"Fiddle boy. Glad to see the church hasn't skinned your grisly hide yet. Or Tarkos, that sanctimonious old pecker." He lot out a loud bark of a laugh, and I joined in.

"Mathek. Good to see you. I'm impressed that bony carcass of yours is still standing."

"Hah. Once you've left this world, I'll still be around, telling everybody about this milky-white tone-deaf creature that walked around and somehow convinced himself he could sing."

I couldn't keep myself from laughing and patted his shoulder. Not too hard - the old geezer might not admit it, but he was a fragile creature. "How's life treating you? Keeping out of trouble?"

He looked to either side of us - for him, an uncharacteristic move - and lowered his voice. "I should be asking you that - except I already know the answer. See, I have a nephew who's an Alchemist. Bit of a prodigy that one - his hands are lightning and his eyes sharp as a soarer. He's dumb as a log though. So then he tells me everything about this fancy Talen fellow who asked him to produce a handful of bottles of Carnite dust in all secrecy, right? Of course, I tell him that Talen probably wants him to keep that a secret. It'd be a shame if somebody were to overhear it and spoil some kind of surprise, right?"

I swallowed. "That...would be a shame. Agreed. So Carnite dust. Not something you sprinkle on your morning steak?"

His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Not unless you want it to go kaboom and blind you in the process. Although...maybe it could do something about that pale skin of yours."

"Yeah - not my idea of a perfect breakfast. Listen, Mathek, I.."

"Can it, fiddler. For the past couple of weeks, you've given me something to look forward to - and that's rare in these parts. So you just remember to play that sailor song tomorrow. You know, the good one."

A knowing smile plastered itself on my face. "That wouldn't by any chance be 'Frigging in the rigging?'" I shook my head. "You're a dirty old man."

His cackling laughter was infective. "Maybe there is some hope for you still. At least your memory works. But make it saucy, ok?" He waved, as he left me, still cackling.

Three days before the Games, I finally got a chance to sit down with Darya and Atlas again. Atlas had been a constant, wonderful presence, always taking the time to pop by in the evening. Of course, he also constantly expressed how much he enjoyed spending the days near Darya, faithless dog that he was. Today, he was acting the role of faithful lapdog, however, depositing himself at my side with a satisfied groan.

"That'll teach you to have seconds twice, you big glutton." I said with a friendly poke. He responded with an annoyed murmur, ambling closer to me and sending insisting thoughts about something itching just there. I obliged with an indulgent smile. He really was a lovable buffoon. "Y'know, Atlas, I look forward to leaving this place and strolling around with you soon. Get ourselves into some trouble. How does that sound?"  The only answer was a huge sigh and a wave of bliss. It was probably more in response to the copious amounts of food he’d just eaten than as an actual response. Sometimes I wondered though. I found him more and more often reacting to my spoken words – he was really taking to the teaching fast. I turned towards Darya, who was busy carving away at something, a figurine, I'd guess. "How's he behaving with you? I sure hope he's not making a nuisance of himself?"

She looked up with a dazzling smile. "Oh, never. He's an absolute dear. I just want to keep him in real life. Of course, they keep me busy, so I don't have much time to fool around in the woods with him, but when I have solo tasks, he's ever so helpful." She beamed at him, and for a moment I became jealous. Of a reptile the size of a Great Dane, no less.  

"Speaking about tasks, how are yours going? You mentioned they weren't too unreasonable, right?"

She nodded. "My first tasks were for some of the small fry, but I'm moving up in the hierarchy. In fact, I just received my final test - looks to be an exciting one. They're being pretty close-mouthed about the whole thing, but I've been told that I'm going into the woods for the next couple of days. We might have to miss the games too, I was told." 

"That's horrible." I said with mock dismay. "Who is going to act the part of the fawning damsel on the tribunes, screaming at the sight at any danger?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I do remember a certain damsel in distress who had to be carried by the hero. Maybe he could play the part?"

"Ooh - low blow! Here I was hoping that you'd forgotten about that minor detail. Seriously, a person who looks and fights like you ought to have some negative perks - it's just plain karmic sense." Was that - a blush? 

"Oh shush you. Subject change. Here." She nodded at a heavy bag. "That's the last delivery of food I'll be able to make before we know the results for either of us. Also, you'll have to promise to take good care of Atlas - I believe it'd be a bad idea to bring him."

"Of course - I'll keep him out of trouble. Thanks a ton, Darya. I owe you so much - as do my kobold buddies. They'll be able to get on with no problem now though - they've been hoarding like there's no tomorrow. And Darya - I do know you're helping Grant's Crossing as well, but you've really been a massive help to me here - and somehow you've asked for nothing in return. Is there anything I can do to make it up for you? Anything at all?"

She looked at me. And then she really looked at me - her face more solemn than I'd seen her before. "Play me something. I'd like to think this over." She sat down cross-legged in anticipation.

Naturally, I did as she asked. Earlier, I'd come up with an idea I wanted to try out, and I went straight to work. Softly, I started playing, coaxing the emotion from the violin, slowly adding in intensity and volume. Meanwhile, I paid attention to her features as I played. She appeared lost in thought, but after a while, her lips curled up ever so softly, as she recognized that Dearly Beloved song from Kingdom Hearts. I gave it a while longer, until I switched to the next one, which she recognized even faster. My impromptu medley moved all through the gamut of emotions, and I could easily see the moment she recognized a game. After a while, she was swaying in tune to the stirring melody from Banner Saga with her eyes closed. When I let the music die down gently, she placed her elbows on her knees, facing me. 

The look on her face was guarded, "At first when you said you couldn't tell me what was going on, I figured you were being facetious. That, or you were trying to appear interesting by being secretive. Except – that's not you, is it? So that's what I want. The truth."

She didn't press me or elaborate – and of course I knew what she was alluding to. For weeks now, I'd been balancing on a precipice, wondering which way I'd fall. Darya's earnest demeanor truly made me want to spill every last detail, except...I was a wanted criminal. There was no way she'd just keep quiet about that. "I...I can't." Her eyes fell, and she made to turn away, but I lifted a hand in supplication. "Please hear me out. I can't tell you everything, because you'd become embroiled in the whole rotten situation – and I'm not willing to allow that. The thing is: There are people looking for me – in here – in the game. That's why I had to leave Grant's Crossing."

Her gaze turned intense and she rose, walking over to face me. Her quiet scrutiny made me feel uncomfortable as the silence lengthened. In the end, she nodded and quietly said. "I believe you." Her voice had a tang of surprise to it. "Here I was expecting...never mind." Suddenly reserved, she looked down and a couple of loose braids fell down over her face. 

I gathered my courage and stepped up close to her. My hand rose to guide away the braids and I held her gaze as my lips slowly rose to meet hers. One tiny moment she froze - and then she melted right into my arms. Weird, fleeting thoughts flew through my mind. How soft her skin felt. How it wasn't weird at all that she was taller than me. Barely registering in my mind, the thoughts dissipated just as quick, and I lost myself in her presence.

I'm not sure how much time passed, but at some point Darya buried her lips into my forehead and murmured something inaudible.

"What was that?" I asked softly, inhaling the scent of her.

""You're trouble." she said before she grabbed my collar and my sense of time faded to the background once again.

Later, Darya softly caressed my neck with a thoughtful expression, before she sighed. "I really need to go. Hunters get up before dawn and - well - dawn is way too close as it is."

I gave her a wry smile. "Roll a bard next time - bards sleep in."

The majestic half-orc stuck her tongue out at me and turned to walk away. "Oh, and Daniel. Don't think I'm so easy to distract each time."

I automatically shot back. "This was easy?" Softening my voice, I added "Take good care of yourself, Darya."

With a final smile, she slipped into the darkness. Her final words lingered with me. "It's Mila."

As I went to sleep, I could feel my lips tugging upwards in an irresistible smile. Whatever else happened, I'd found one wonderful thing inside the game.

The following evening, I took Atlas for a walk. I wanted to take some time to re-establish our communication and get used to each other again - and apart from that, we had some reconnaissance to do. To begin with, we toured the outskirts, keeping away from any kobolds. It felt good, spending some time with Atlas again with nothing pressing to do. I'd missed his childish exuberance and constant happiness. It didn't take long before we were back to the usual back and forth. That meant Atlas playfully asking to play, eat or listen to music. I humored him a lot, coming up with small games and giving him treats. After a short walk, I felt reassured that his camouflage would keep steady as long as he kept a healthy distance.

After a while, the Court towered up before us, impressive in all its massive decay. When I first arrived, I'd been too overwhelmed by the entire scenery to pay much attention to the huge edifice. Right now, for some odd reason, the place took up a lot of space in my mind.

When I asked Muriel the day before, he brushed off my question. "What do you want to know? That old sack of bricks is getting uglier by the year and it's not like they use it much."

"Yeah, but...what do they use it for? And why that name – The Court?"

"Court of Souls for the nitpickers. Darek would probably tell it as a grand story with plenty of important happenings – except, it really isn't. The Chief uses it for the occasional official announcement, the Games and...well, a duel or something from time to time. It's just a fancy name. What it really does is collect birds droppings and crumble."

Regardless of Muriel's irreverence, the Court of Souls was an imposing sight. It was a huge hexagonal stone structure with little thought to decorations, but the size itself was daunting. The walls stood twenty meters tall with heavy, reinforced sections between the walls. Age had taken a heavy toll on the place. It was hard to tell if the numerous cracks and damaged sections originated back to the crash landing of the huge floating platform or were due to subsequent decay and lack of maintenance. Atlas and I circled the walls at a stroll and quickly figured out the basics. The walls were undamaged enough at the base that you couldn't just sneak in. Also, a couple of bored guards had drawn the short straw and were stationed near the only entrance to prevent, say, overly ambitious trap-layers from sneaking in. Still, I wanted a look at where I'd be standing a couple of days from now. When we reached the back of the Court, I reassured myself that there was no-one nearby, sat up against the wall in relaxation and reached out to Atlas. My mind slid into Atlas' perception without any issues, and I sent him a mental image of himself climbing to the top of the wall. Within moments, he'd traversed the rough wall, and was reclined in his full length, taking in the sights. 

In all fairness, I have to admit that it was a sight. Even in its current decrepit state, the majestic vision of the Court's heyday shone through clearly.  It was formed very much like a baseball field, with a sizable arena in the middle surrounded by a wall and plateaued granite stairs on all sides for seating. At the opposite side of the entrance sat a balcony, presumably for the VIPs. What captured my eye - and that of Atlas as well, once I asked him to focus - was the arena itself, however. It was late evening, yet there were still kobolds toiling in different sections of the field. Overall, the arena was open, with a packed dirt floor and large stone pillars at random intervals as the only thing to break the monotony. One entire third of the arena had been walled off, however, restricting access. This was clearly the Craftsman's test, and I watched as they moved to and fro, fiddling with gods know which types of deadly concoctions. Unfortunately, they had been unkind enough to wall off the entire area - with twelve separate entrances and a huge tarp thrown over everything to hide the contents from prying eyes. "A labyrinth, filled with traps?" I mused to myself. Yeah, I wasn't going to risk Atlas' hide investigating either of those entrances. The remainder of the area didn't reveal any secrets for the program, but I did get a chance to familiarize myself with the layout - and those pillars gave me a crazy idea I knew I was going to mull over later.

The evening before the big event, it finally happened. Darek and I had agreed to skip this afternoon's round of exercise - the risk of a long-lasting debuff from a clumsy dodge wasn't worth the miniscule gains I could get from the session, and I was able to take stock of the results. 

Multicast had increased to 7 and Cuirass of Sound barely hit 8. I’d been unable to ding 10 with that one, which annoyed me to no end. Still, the remaining pop-ups were a joy to look at. Acrobatics had increased to 8, thanks to Darek’s merciless hounding. The real kickers, however, were:

[Congratulations.

Your skill Concentration has reached Apprentice rank. You are able to shut out the rest of the world as if it did not exist – at least when you are not in the chaos of battle.  

+5 to Concentration outside combat situations.]

At the very least, it’d be a help in crafting and training situations – I would’ve given quite a bit for this skill back when I was training with Greck.

[Congratulations.

Your skill Stun Blast has reached Apprentice rank. Its range is increased, allowing for greater use in combat situations.

Range increase from 10.0 to 15.0 meters]

That one was going to be a life saver. 

[Congratulations.

Your skill Unarmored Dodge has reached Apprentice rank. You have learned to move with the blows. Even if you fail to evade a blow entirely, you may be able to avoid part of the damage.  

A successful Agility check allows you to reduce damage on anything but a direct hit.]

Hmm – Unarmored Dodge proved a bit disappointing. With my Agility, this probably wasn’t going to have any effect whatsoever. For an Agility-based class, it would be a godsend though. 

Still, the results for the week had been great, and I felt more prepared than ever.

With the rest of my day suddenly free I embarged on a boredom-inducing reading marathon from hell, re-reading Greck's book end to end in the vain hope of finally experiencing a breakthrough. All hope had long since left me, when a pop-up arose out of nowhere at 8 in the evening. With blurry eyes, I had to read it twice to ensure that it was the one I'd been looking for.    

[Quest updated: “When in Nerit...”

You have gained an intermediate understanding of the written Kobold Language. Few written words escape your understanding.]

Apprehensive, I leafed back through Greck's book to the first section I was having troubles with - and I finally got it. A shaky laughter escaped me and I bent back over the book.

"Things are not what they seem. My tasks in the Church are intriguing and the importance undeniable - but certain facts do not add up. Today, I was ordered to entertain in the Court of Souls with a rendition from Thracken's first time in our midst. The order was crystal clear. 'Make sure that you emphasize the importance of Thracken's ruling that we should keep away from the evils of substances that dull the mind.' Everybody knows that the First Guard is often seen with a bottle of Ache in his hand - but why would they want to enhance the cleft between the Church and the Chief's force? There is strife enough as it is."

All right, so that gave me a little to go on - the power struggle had been ongoing for at least twenty years - and intentional on part of the Church, at least. I leafed forward to the next passage.

"They intend to overthrow the Chief and enforce the rule of the Church over the entirety of Nerit. This, I believe with all my heart. I just cannot fathom why. The faith is real. Thracken is real. His message is real. Why cause strife, when Thracken's teachings clearly state that we are one brotherhood, working towards the same goal under Thracken? I must investigate further - with proper caution. Already, I may have been asking too many questions. Perhaps my latest findings can help me."

Wow. Ok, at least he'd stopped with the vague hints. A power struggle is one thing - but this sounded more like a coup. With trepidation, I located the last section - if this one didn't give me any clear answers I might have to shiv him next time I saw him.

"It's all a sham! Thracken does not respond any more, and the Liberator knows. In fact, he is the one who perpetuates the web of lies. My latest spell allows me to guide sonic flows, in effect channeling sound waves towards me - and the Liberator was discussing with the head of the Church Protectors what they ought to do to a new priest who was having doubts. They bloody knew! This shall not stand - I am going to blow it all open. I will hide this book, just in case."

My head conked back against the wall. This was crazy. Of course, I'd had my suspicions with the way they'd named me a Fallen to begin with, but maintaining a web of lies for that long, merely in order to stay in charge? This was some Borgia level type of religious leadership right here. It also fitted together all too well with the general theme in the city - but I had problems fathoming everything that this meant and the possible repercussions. Oh - it struck me - I'd also been unable to read the postscript of the book itself - it was probably nothing, but I wanted to see for myself anyway. I flicked all the way forward.

"I failed. On my very last performance in Nerit, I started to shout my accusations sky high for all to hear - but the Liberator cast a spell on me before I could disclose everything. An hour later I was tortured, then banished. Hopefully, I managed to set back their plans, but I dare not hope. I dare not care either, as I can never return, on pain of death."

Ouch. A lot of Greck's behavior made more sense to me now. Still, I couldn't deliberate on his plight right now - I had to concentrate – formulate a plan of how I was supposed to use this. Suddenly invigorated, I went to work.