Chapter 125: Offerings (Patreon)

This was either the best idea she ever came up with, or it would go down in history as the complete and utter annihilation of her social life. Ellesea couldn’t believe she was actually going through with it. But Jessica goaded her on too much and Alastair was right.

They couldn’t stay inside forever.

​

The anxiety and suspense of not knowing what was going on back in the demon lands was killing everybody. They knew something was wrong the moment Melia asked her [Retainers] to escort the party away. But what could they say? They understood they were being dismissed. As much as the [Retainers] doted on them and honored their requests, most of [Sunrise] likened the treatment to a rich person caring for exotic pets.

And things only got worse the moment the [Retainers] froze, took on a pale look that spoke of panicked horror, and sprinted back through the portal.

Now, [Sunrise] could have followed. But they weren’t idiots, and they knew whatever could terrify the [Retainers] to that degree was well beyond their league. The best way they could help was to stay exactly where they were.

However…that was two days ago.

Now that they were back in Horizon, there were things to take care of, and maybe keeping themselves busy was exactly what they needed to keep their minds off the growing uncertainty and unease.

Or so Ellesea convinced herself as she decided to go to class.

Now, deciding to go to class and actually getting to class were two separate matters. She could walk, take a carriage…since she was at the Queen’s private residence, she might even be able to borrow a horse. Her teleportation studies weren't advanced enough to let her [Teleport] to the Academy.

In the past, on a normal morning when she didn’t wake up late and panicking, Ellesea would walk until she no longer enjoyed wandering through the city and it became a chore to reach her destination. Today, however, Ellesea had something in her inventory she never had before: her [Flying Carpet].

The thought of flying freely through Horizon air was both exhilarating and intimidating. Unlike riding through the desert with her private party, here she would be seen.

Besides contractors related to the Transportarium, such as [Gryphon Masters] or [Wyrm Tamers], very few people traveled through the sky. And to Ellesea’s knowledge, none of them were on a [Flying Carpet].

It was early morning and the sun was rising; she’d be as visible as a flock of birds.

But wasn’t part of the plan to be seen? Wasn’t that the point? Yes, she'd had an astronomical amount of help getting there, but Ellesea provided the final enchantment. She made this fancy rug. Nobody could take that from her. The thought of cruising above the heads of her peers, looking down on them as they stared up at her in wonder, was both intoxicating and a little worrying. Ellesea was not prideful, but she did have a sense of pride.

But it wasn't just the academic side of things; her fellow students and colleagues wouldn’t be the only ones judging her with critical eyes. She was in the Royal compound and she’d need to fly over the Nobles’ District to get to school. People who outranked her— powerful people, petty people —would see. How would she explain to, say, a Duke that a Baron’s daughter was gliding through the air on a piece of enchanted upholstery?

They would be jealous. They would demand answers.

But…let them.

Previously, that realization would have paralyzed Ellesea with indecision briefly before settling on a decisive reconsideration. She would have ultimately kept the carpet in her inventory and lowered her head, forcing herself to go unseen and hopefully unnoticed to maintain the status quo.

But in the last few months, she’d come to realize something. Family was important, yes, and lineage played a role in paving the path for one’s life, but only the individual could walk that road. Only she could choose to become a [Mage] and subsequently evolve into an [Arcanist]. Nobody else could do that for her…or force it on her. Her achievements were a triumph.

So let them look, Ellesea decided.

She ate a moody breakfast with her team, who were still on edge, wondering about the fate of the dragon and the [Saint]. The Queen had returned briefly, once, several hours after they initially took the portal to Horizon, but she seemed incredibly distracted and only told them that things were…stabilizing.

[Sunrise] didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. They knew things had gone wrong, and that something had happened to the elf and gnome, but nobody could give them a definitive answer. Alastair had sensed Celestara’s return and he was anxious to head to the Bastion, but how exactly that came to be, [Sunrise] wasn’t certain.

Jessica figured somebody else must have died.

Surprisingly, it was one of Jessica’s more well-reasoned moments. Normally, the [Hunter] fired from the hip, fast and loose with her thoughts, letting them rip the moment they entered her brain before any sort of quality control could analyze them. Essentially, Jessica occasionally said some pretty stupid stuff.

But here, her hypothesis had merit.

She first submitted that the group knew the Demon King was dead. They’d seen him die; that was immutable, since Letharion, god of war, briefly took over his body. And they watched the vessel collapse once it could no longer support the god’s presence. That didn’t complete the quest…but several hours later, Alastair froze in place, pivoted toward the Bastion of Light, and stared through the walls as if seeing something no one else could. He was sure, and everyone believed him, that Celestara had returned.

That meant there was only one reason Meliastraza would send them away: she was about to do something she didn’t want anyone else to see.

Because Queen Moeldywn and the [Saint] remained, it also had to involve those two.

By process of elimination, because the [Retainers] looked like they’d seen a ghost and the Queen rushed through looking haunted, Jessica assumed it had to be either Meliastraza or Eluna Brandywine.

Ellesea knew how most people felt about the [Destroyer of Worlds]...and, after consideration, it made sense to believe the dragon was the real Dark Lord all along. In fact, she had felt that way too, until she met Meliastraza herself. But since she had, Ellesea no longer felt that way and she was as confused as she was frustrated. Obviously, the Dark Lord couldn’t have been the [Saint]...so did that mean Meliastraza killed Eluna? Simply impossible. From what Ellesea knew, the dragon was far too fond of the [Saint] to let anything happen to her.

With no new information forthcoming, all they could do was wait for the Queen to return with answers. But sitting around was torture, and Alastair had put off his holy duty to make a pilgrimage to the Bastion as long as he could, and he felt compelled to leave. He felt obliged to offer anyone who wished to confirm the goddess’ return the chance to accompany him, but he understood when nobody volunteered. Halfheartedly, he also suggested that at least 1 of them remain in their quarters in case somebody returned, though he seemed to understand that everybody was highly strung and badly needed a distraction.

Y’cennia was most likely going to remain, as she immediately dove headfirst into her [Alchemy].

Ellesea, in an effort to take her mind off things, complained about homework. Not because she had any, but because it was an easy thing to complain about. Jessica then asked offhandedly if she was going to show off her [Flying Carpet] to get extra credit.

Ellesea paused for a moment too long.

Jessica grinned and then spent the better part of 10 minutes trying to get her to fly her around town.

While Ellesea didn’t take Jessica joyriding, she did end up caving into the desire to fly her new [Carpet] to school. It might have only been a couple of days, but it felt like an eternity since she'd felt the freedom of floating several feet above the ground. Not wanting her nerves to get the better of her and spend the rest of the day waffling around indecisively, Ellesea followed Alastair to the door, bid him farewell as he headed to the Bastion, and brought out her [Flying Carpet].

Her mere touch activated the fabric as it unfurled from a roll and it hovered exactly at the most comfortable height for her to sit effortlessly. She looked at it fondly and smiled in appreciation. When Meliastraza says she wants to make something, it is never less than the highest possible quality.

Even the modified Branes Family Crest looked like it had been woven by a [Mastercraft Tailor].

Which, now that she thought about it, it obviously had.

Ellesea slid smoothly onto her [Carpet], cross-legged. She no longer struggled awkwardly and nearly fell off; to an outside observer, it would have seemed as if she’d been sitting on a hovering bolt of cloth thinner than her little finger for her entire life. She let out a contented sigh, always pleased that it managed to caress her body perfectly while maintaining a rigid structure. The [Carpet] itself undulated in rhythmic waves, as if begging to be told to take off.

“Okay then,” Ellesea muttered to herself. “Rise.”

She did so, flawlessly. A little part of her would always worry that the [Carpet] would go shooting out from underneath her into the great unknown, and she was relieved when it didn’t. Once bitten, twice shy, as the saying went. Maybe they needed to add an addendum for flying mounts? Once dumped, hesitant to lose another priceless [Carpet]...?

It needed work.

Ellesea rose into the air and waved at the rest of her teammates who’d come to see her off. She leaned forward to nudge the carpet into a faster pace and quickly picked up speed. She rose into the sky and frightened a crow out of a tree, luxuriating as the wind brushed across her face.

…Perhaps a quality hair tie might be advisable, as she suddenly found herself chewing on several long strands as they whipped around wildly.

Ellesea maneuvered across the street, keen to keep her sense of direction steady. One thing she didn’t expect was how easily she got disoriented the moment her usual iconography disappeared. Looking down at houses created an entirely different city, as if it somehow shrunk and became small. A slight turn would send her much further off track than walking down a random alleyway.

As she made her way above the crowded boulevard, she could hear the startled gasps of surprised pedestrians as they were engulfed by her shadow. She frowned and nudged her [Carpet] upward, floating high and away from the street. Just because she could no longer hear the crowds creating a commotion didn’t mean they couldn’t see her. The family crest, modified with the roaming dragon, was clear as the puffy white clouds high in the sky. The dread Ellesea had been fighting back returned. She knew it would be recognized, no matter how modified it was. Somebody was going to find out who it belonged to…it was only a matter of time.

But that was tomorrow’s problem, or whenever she got around to visiting her parents again. It occurred to her that she hadn’t been back home since the day they were attacked, when the Marquis tried to pressure her into a marriage. The thought of her worried parents made her slightly homesick, but she still needed more time before she went back. Ellesea floated leisurely high in the sky, impervious to the politics of the city below, as she steadily made her way toward the academy.

As she approached the training courtyard in the Advanced Magical Studies wing, Ellesea smiled wryly. A large crowd had gathered, impatiently awaiting her arrival. Word on the streets spread faster than she gave it credit for, and for a brief moment she wondered what would happen if she simply…didn’t land. Noticing that there was more than one Professor in the crowd, she didn’t feel like tempting fate to find out.

“Where did you get that?” A student she’d never talked to before demanded the moment the [Flying Carpet] was within hovering distance. It stalled at the perfect height to slide her legs off the side and stand up, but she needed to shoo several people away so she could actually dismount. More than just the noisy individual wanted to get a closer look.

“Is this [Glimmerweave]?” Asked a girl from a different class. “Where did you find it? I’ve heard it’s impossible to buy, even on the Auction House!”

“I’d rather know who you got to [Enchant] it,” said a final boy. He gingerly pinched the top and bottom of the frame of the left lens in his large, circular glasses and stooped in so closely his nose was practically shoved into the material. “This is quite good work. Are they available upon request?”

Honestly, so many new students bombarding Ellesea was a little overwhelming, since there were about 50 people in the training ground and that number was only climbing. She saw a few of her classmates around the perimeter, but when she locked eyes with them, they weren’t of any help. If anything, they looked more determined to pry the secrets out of her than everybody else. I took considerable discipline not to let out a low-powered [Arcane Explosion] and push everyone back.

“Give the girl some room,” a sharp voice called. One of the [Librarians], though Ellesea couldn’t think of his name, whom she supposed also wanted to inspect her [Carpet] but was being professional about it. The students reluctantly backed away, though many wore mutinous expressions. As soon as Ellesea found her way to solid ground, she quickly stowed the [Carpet] in her inventory. A great groan of disappointment rose throughout the training grounds.

“Miss Barnes,” the [Librarian] said, stepping forward. “As I assume all of us gathered here are, I am greatly intrigued by your choice of conveyance this morning. I took the liberty to [Inspect]. A [Flying Carpet]? This intrigues me. We haven’t had recorded sightings of a [Flying Carpet] in a hundred years. Our records suggested the art of making them vanished with the Visitors. Would you be amenable to sharing the tale of how you acquired one? I could offer you premium access to the [Privacy Booths] during finals week.”

Ellesea’s eyes widened. [Privacy Booths] were a scholar’s best friend! They featured the expected noise-cancellation enchants and comfort-control, but rumors said the higher-end nooks also included sorcery to improve concentration and lengthen attention span, effectively doubling the amount of research one could do.

And she wasn’t the only one who saw the value in such an offer. A cry of outrage rang out as somebody instantly complained.

“[Scholar] Tidus, that’s not fair!” A boy shouted. “Those are booked weeks out!”

A girl from the School of [Enchanting] had a different offer.

“Forget the library! If you show it to me first, I’ll give you a [Self-Writing Notebook]!”

Ah? Ellesea turned to try and find the girl. Was this…a bid war she smelled?

“I’ll buy you lunch!” An unfortunately useless claim was made.

“I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the semester!”

That offer had more value, but was no more enticing. Not when she had Meliastraza in her back pocket.

…Or, at least, she might. Ellesea frowned as she was reminded of the uncertainty back home. Perhaps she would need to look into new sources of sustenance; no way would she ever go back to cooking for herself. Ellesea’s patented [Black Matter] would never see the light of day again.

“Now now,” said a cool, calm voice, silencing the yard. The crowd parted like a river being diverted, revealing a man Ellease was not at all surprised to see.

“Headmaster,” she bowed respectfully to the head of all things magical at the finest institution in Horizon.

“Let us remember that this is a place of learning,” he said, admonishing the people trying to buy their way into Ellesea’s good graces. “Not the stockyards.”

The Headmaster paused next to the person who’d proposed buying Ellesea’s lunches for the foreseeable future. It was a tall, lanky girl with discomfortingly green hair.

“At least offer to take her to Penny’s,” the Headmaster stage-whispered, earning a round of laughs. He stood tall, clapped his hands several times, and addressed Ellesea.

“For those who are unaware, our dear [Arcanist] here has recently found an illustrious master. She’s even recently evolved her class! Instead of surrounding the poor girl, let us instead congratulate her for her achievements. Perhaps, if she is so inclined, we will be allowed to study this fascinating…[Flying Carpet]. But until then, I believe many of you have lectures to attend. Don’t tarry now, attendance waits for no man!”

Ellesea was grateful to the Headmaster for stepping in, but as she tried to shimmy away, he stopped her. She was worried at first, but as she caught the mischievous glint in his eye, she relaxed.

“It would be improper of me– or any staff –to bribe or coerce a student. All matters pertaining to school activities must be strictly scholastic. It is a pity, but I cannot allow you to accept [Scholar] Tidus’ offer and I’ll be having words with him soon enough.”

Ellesea nodded, but she heard something interesting muttered under the Headmaster’s breath.

“As if the old cad thinks he can get a foot up on me.”

Ellesea repressed the grin that so badly wanted to spread across her face, especially seeing the Headmaster’s lips twitch. He leaned casually to the right so he was closer to Ellesea’s ear and whispered.

“Independent research outside of school is another matter entirely. I could propose a…project, an exchange of information, if you will. I would very much like to see this [Flying Carpet] in action, oh, who am I kidding? I want to ride it. And if you find yourself, say, at Research Station Abbyton, I think you might find the doors quite open to you.”

This time, Ellesea laughed. She still didn’t know if flying her [Carpet] to school was a good idea, but at least now it was a lot more interesting!

​

Alastair left the castle with only a single thing on his mind: Celestara had returned.

He could feel it, he could sense it; and more than just a longing in his heart, Alastair knew his Goddess was back. Ever since that moment of revelation during the first several hours of their long wait, Alastair knew the shackles of her prison had been released.

If only Eluna were here to share her insight with him, he would be relieved. Instead, Alastair was forced to return to the second most reliable source regarding Celestara…her Bastion of Holy Light.

And now, more than ever, did the impressive cathedral live up to its name.

Sometime in the middle of the night, a pillar of golden light appeared over the building, and it took all of Alastair’s willpower not to abandon his friends and teammates the moment the light called to him. He would go to it, and soon, but he could not leave them in their time of need. Now, walking with a barely constrained gait one step away from a hurried rush, he was eager to greet the coming of Her Radiance.

And it seemed he was not the only one.

Alastair noticed an abundance of [Priests], [Paladins], [Templars], and other pious classes heeding the same call. The streets were filled with throngs of [Clerics] making their way to the Bastion. Even in the light of day, the golden pillar piercing the heavens, likely rising from the statue of Celestara herself, was clearly visible.

“Brother, it’s time!” A [Monk] said to Alastair as they drew together while ascending the path. Alastair had never seen this man before, but his affection for the goddess and his genuine relief were clear as day. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Alastair smiled.

“Indeed it is, Brother. I can hardly believe it happened in my lifetime.”

“As can I!” The [Monk] laughed. His tanned, leathery body was shirtless and displayed the physique of a man who weathered time quite well, but the way his wooden [Prayer Beads] bounced jovially on his chest suggested the man never lost the spark of life, even into his later years. “I did not think I would make another pilgrimage to the Bastion in my 60s. I thought I would retire in the countryside, and even if I wanted to return, the cost of an [Atherstone] would be too great for a humble farmer like me. But would you believe it? When I tested the [Stone], knowing my coffers would not suffice, I found the cost removed! It was free! A sign, I tell you; it could only be a sign! Celestara has returned, and she draws us to her.”

Alastair could only nod and admire the man’s simple faith.

As they drew closer to the cathedral, the crowds grew. Alastair never knew there were so many holy classes in the city, but he supposed, like his [Monk] companion, they could have traveled from anywhere around the world. If, like the [Monk], their travel costs had been removed, they could be looking at the largest gathering of Celestara’s followers in the history of the world. Despite the bustle of the crowded street, they naturally formed an orderly line. Perhaps it had something to do with the [Templars] littering the area, but Alastair liked to think it was simply a blessed day.

The line slowed to a crawl when he finally reached the cathedral courtyard and it wrapped around the impressive building twice. Alastair was unbothered; he had all the time in the world. He took his place in line and wondered what he was about to see.

He doubted Celestara manifested in person. The gods rarely did, often choosing to speak through [Champions] and [Saints] instead. Plus, Celestara had recently been released from a hundred years of captivity. Surely she needed rest.

Perhaps one of the church's higher-ups would act as a conduit. Could she inhabit a [Cardinal]? Or maybe a [Paladin] of sufficient rank? Alastair wasn't hoping to be the one afforded such an honor, but it was a passing thought.

The line moved painstakingly slowly, but it did move. To combat the day's heat, Bastion clergy moved along the line, handing out refreshments. Small cups of [Diluted Wine] and wafers of [Unleavened Bread] were hardly filling, let alone a replacement for the meal he was about to skip, but they were holy sacraments fitting for this day. After a cup of wine and a wafer, Alastair sent his prayers of thanks and gratitude, and was relieved to receive a much larger portion of [Wheat Bread], [Cold Salami], [White Cheese], and [Chilled Water]. The church must have reached deep into its stores to provide this simple meal for the hundreds present here today, but he supposed, to everyone here, it was worth it.

Alastair didn’t enter the cathedral until noon. As he did, he felt his breath escape him and he understood why the line was moving so slowly.

The statue of Celestara had turned golden, the pillar of light surrounding it, and it had sprouted fiery wings. Even as the smallest representation of her angelic beauty, it was still a margin of manifestation. Every high-ranking member of the church was present, and the first several rows of pews were filled with men and women in crimson robes. Alastair spotted the Bishop he often saw visiting the abbey standing at the statue's base. Pilgrims would approach the statue, Celestara’s golden light would fall on them, and the Bishop would sprinkle them with [Holy Water] while they said their prayers. Then, if they were so inclined, the pilgrims would leave a token of their affection, reverence, or piety upon the altar before stepping away. As they left the building, an [Altar Boy] would retrieve the item and take it to be sorted in the many storerooms while the Bishop ensured the incense burner was still filled.

As he stood in line, Alastair wondered what he might give to the goddess. Compared to those around him, he was nothing special. He wasn’t as highly ranked as some [Templars], nor as learned as the [Scholars]. He wasn’t as pious as a [Priest] nor had he spent a lifetime delving into the scriptures like a [Cardinal]. He was a simple [Paladin], and his skills leaned more toward violence than toward Celestara’s healing, but he knew he was accepted nonetheless. He would never have received his class, otherwise.

But what could he give?

He didn’t have money. He had seen others drop off piles of gold, as if they could buy the goddess’ favor. He saw some leave behind pottery or priceless works of art, as if their worldly value transcended to the heavens. Of course, he saw many other things, often given in moderation from a thoughtful heart, but Alastair didn’t have much to give.

To him, Celestara wouldn’t care about worldly possessions anyway. She cared more about the matters of the heart and the goodness within. As cliché as it always was: it was the thought that counted. So as Alastair inched slowly forward, he considered his inventory.

What would Celestara want after 100 years of solitude and silence?

An intrusive thought forced a chuckle from his lips, and before he could stop himself, he laughed. Several nearby brothers and sisters gave him peculiar looks, but he schooled his face into quiet contemplation.

The thought that invaded Alastair’s brain was simple. What would he want? And, perhaps because all he’d had to fill his belly was a small plate of meat, cheese, and bread, he was hungry. Food. He’d want food.

And because he’d been so heavily invested in fine food culture lately (thanks to a certain gnome), Alastair couldn’t help but think of all the tasty food he’d eaten in the last month, and all the wonderful dishes he still had yet to try.

Which then reminded him of the Benediction of the Blessed Avocado, and how Melia had made two dishes to present to the goddess…with which she seemed very pleased.

Alastair didn’t have an extra golden avocado to hand out, but he had something he hoped might come in at a distant second.

Melia, in her good cheer, abhorred anything tasteless. That included things that were meant to be bland, even if the flavor was sacrificed to preserve longevity. As such, she took great issue with their standard [Travel Rations], always tossing them aside whenever she saw them and replacing them with something else. The exact item changed each time, but they were all [Cooked] by Melia herself. And as it so happened, Alastair had a stash of emergency backup food on him, since Melia would never let them travel without it. He closed his eyes, found it in his inventory, and brought it out. He stared at the card-sized object filling his palm, a mixture of mirth and exasperation on his face.

​

[Pop Tart]

​

Level: 0

Rarity: Uncommon

Quality: 5-Stars

Made by: Melia the Magnificent

​

On use: eat the entire pastry to become [“Well Fed”]

On use: toast the pastry before eating to also gain [Delighted].

​

Do not let the shiny exterior fool you: cram is still cram.

​

Alastair always found the flavor text on this item to be ironic. Doubly so, because it could be taken many ways. For one, [Cram] was slang for tasteless rations travelers used to fill their bellies quickly and portably…at the cost of any and all flavor. He’d tasted some before that made cakes of sawdust sound appetizing. For another, there was something simply amusing about using flavor text to describe flavor.

But that wasn’t the only interesting tidbit about the food, as he inspected [“Well Fed”]. The usage of quotation marks intrigued him, as if to say that one would not become well fed.

​

[“Well Fed”]

​

Forget about how hungry you are for the next 4 hours. Does not actually fill you up.

​

[Delighted]

​

There’s enough sugar in this thing to make you smile and keep you smiling until the buff wears off.

​

…What kind of item was this?

But Alastair didn’t have time to consider Melia’s bizarre sense of humor for the things she cooked, as the Bishop motioned him forward.

“Welcome, faithful [Paladin], to the Bastion of Light. May Celestara’s Radiance shine down upon you today; be blessed.”

Alastair bowed his head and felt the trickle of water splash across his forehead and sprinkle onto his shoulders. On his way up here, Alastair had thought long and hard about what he wanted to say, since this was likely the closest he would ever get to Celestara. But now that he was here, he was at a loss. His fancy words and prepared prayers failed him. All he was left with were wandering thoughts, and he faltered.

Celestara, Alastair prayed, Keep my family safe. Both my mother and my father— yes, those who gave birth to me —but also my party. My friends, my teammates. I…don’t know what’s happening in the demon lands right now, and I feel powerless. I…don’t think there’s anything I can do, anything I could have done differently to change things. I…am afraid. I fear for Eluna, your [Saint], because she’s grown close to me. I’ve seen her smile and I’ve received her compassion, and she’s like another sister to me. I don’t want to see her hurt. Please keep her safe. As for Melia….

Alastair struggled to complete the thought. It almost felt too irreverent.

…I know she’s up to something. I can only suspect it’s crazy. Please don’t be too mad with her, whatever it is. She’s good at heart, I know it; even if she ends up being the Dark Lord.

Alastair felt nothing as he opened his eyes, but that wasn’t anything new. He didn’t know whether the new golden effect from the statue would actually respond to prayer or if it was little more than a glowing trick. He was about to turn to leave when he remembered the offering.

Oh, and here’s some food. I know…I think you enjoyed the Avocado from your tree. The toast and the dip were both excellent. I don’t have any of those with me, but I have something else Melia made. I must confess, I haven’t tried it, but it’s supposed to have strawberry filling. The white stuff on the outside is icing and the crunchy sprinkles are like crushed candy. Please enjoy.

Alastair placed the pastry on the altar and figured what was done was done. Other people had left food; it would probably get thrown out at the end of the day so it didn’t start growing mold. But as he turned to thank the Bishop, something amazing happened: the [Pop Tart] vanished!

It wasn’t as flashy as when Celestara accepted the [Avocado Toast] or the [Holy Guacamole], and it didn’t seem like anybody else in the cathedral saw a thing. The only other person who noticed was Bishop Larkin, who gave Alastair a very speculative look.

But Alastair’s attention was wholly consumed by a status screen.

He had just received a class evolution. Something called a [Valorant]. He didn’t know what it did, but he knew he had to accept. Celestara herself was offering it. He took it, closed his eyes as an indescribable sensation washed over him, and sighed. He felt…at peace.

“Congratulations, my boy,” Bishop Larkin whispered. “[Valorant] suits you. A class for those who both protect and heal; I think we’ll expect marvelous things from you.”

While those words might add a little dread to a situation worth celebrating, Alastair felt no hidden agenda coming from the man. In fact, if anything, it was the opposite.

“Now, you should get out of here before anyone questions why you’re taking so long and suddenly have a rare class. Celestara’s Light be with you.”

“And you,” Alastair said reflexively, but as he left, with a spring in his step, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

Author's Note:

Good morning.

I...am not good with social stuff. I know I haven't thanked everybody nearly as much as you all deserve, and it's because of your generosity and kindness that I have a job. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but sometimes I have difficulty expressing myself. Especially since I'm the type of person who doesn't really know how to receive a compliment.

I mention this for two reasons. First, thank you. Sincerely. Without you, neither of my two stories would be written.

Secondly, I wanted to bring up something I read in the comments.

Engagement.

I...don't really know how to engage. Yes, I do sometimes wish we had a vibrant, thriving comments section (or discord for that matter), but I know I'm not doing anything to really help in that regard. I do read every single comment, and I'm very grateful for those of you who take the time to leave them, but I don't know where or how I'm supposed to interact with them. Other than thanking people for helping point out my mistakes and inconsistencies (which are plentiful, I apologize), I'll be honest, I have no experience here.

For example, I do appreciate the people who leave silly perfunctory comments like TFTC. But do I respond to that? I...don't think so? Again, I just don't know. As somebody with very limited social skills, it's easy to clam up and do nothing. This job is very different from retail, where everything had a list of operations to follow. Yes, even talking to people! You see somebody in your area? Greet them and ask them if you can help them find something. If they say yes...do that. Ask relevant questions to narrow down their search. If they say no...thank them for shopping and tell them to have a nice day. Even an introvert like me can handle that. So what am I supposed to do when people post theoreticals in the comments?

This is a genuine question. So far, my response is to remain silent most of the time, because I don't want to spoil things for people. How else can I engage? Do I post an "eyes looking" emoji? Just to show I've seen it? Is that stupid? I really don't know how to do this and I feel like I'm doing a bad job. The only thing that I think I'm decent at is being open, honest, and sincere.

And how about when people give me praise? Again...honest question for those of you who know how to receive a compliment. Some people are very kind in their comments and have written very flattering things...and I don't know what to do with that. It does make me happy...but because I am the way I am, they also make me feel awkward and like I'm a fraud who doesn't deserve it.

Polls were also mentioned.

...are polls something people want to see? What kind of polls? I feel slimy if I'm putting a poll up that says "Do you like my story? Huh? Huh?" (even if that's something that keeps me awake at night), and I don't want to put a poll that has "fake answers" just for the sake of being funny because I feel like it devalues the time you take to answer.

I don't know exactly where I'm going with this note, other than I saw the comments and I don't want to make people mad or upset and I do read what you have to say. You are my audience, and I want to meet your expectations. Thank you very much for reading, I hope you have a great day.

~Dee