Last Words chapter 69 (Patreon)

The next hour was much less dramatic and impressive than I had expected. I had already gotten most of the dramatic secret lore, and Galen’s subsequent briefing was full of important information, but most of it was pretty tame. Basically, it could be summed up as the circumstances behind the war, why he’d been sucked into it specifically, and a little bit about what the speakers were doing at that time, though that was mostly hearsay.

“So, that begs the question,” I said as he finished. “Why haven’t YOU tracked down the fragment yet? Like, you’re nearby guarding it, so I’m sure you know where it is. Why not go retrieve it yourself and…get rid of it somehow?”

“Because I can’t,” he sighed. “I’m dead. The protections extended to me by my master ARE fading. The battle with the lich taxed me deeply, and at this point, exposure to the shard might be enough to finish me. As I said, tonight will be my final night on this planet. I held on long enough to speak to you, and that alone is more than I dared hope for.”

Frowning, I nodded slowly. “I understand. So the question becomes what do we do now? Not to make this about me, because you’re dying and all, but like…how can you help me? Because I would personally rather NOT die, and I have a strong feeling that shard isn’t going to be as easy to collect and sell off as I was previously hoping.” Whatever horrible death magic was imbued into that thing could clearly still do damage.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “I understand. The answer, of course, is that you must acquire the holy pattern of my order.”

“Can I even DO that?” I asked slowly. “I mean, it sounds great, but I’m sure your patterns are powerful. Can I buy higher level ones like that? Because I’ve never really tried, but aside from the obvious power disparity, I’m kind of concerned I might not be able to even afford whatever pattern you have.”

He shook his head. “I suspect you are correct, at least about my more advanced patterns. However, I do, of course, have a foundational pattern. Every mage must start somewhere. For my order, that beginning is with the pattern “Shield of Faith”. This Grandmaster tier spell is the foundation of the order of Aradnia. It is a mighty spell, but as with all Grandmaster tier abilities, requires quite a bit of time to refill.”

Grandmaster tier patterns were patterns that required ten mana at Beginner, as much mana as one would need to rank up to Journeyman in the first place. Obviously this wasn’t one to one, because mana refills and you can spend days pumping it into a pattern, which is much easier than improving personal capacity, but it DID mean that any Grandmaster tier spell was, by necessity, an ace in the hole that couldn’t be used frequently, and therefore a huge commitment for your only spell slot at Beginner.

Which made them very rare. I wasn’t clear on the exact distinctions between the tiers in terms of rarity, but my own Barkskin was Master tier, and it had served me pretty well since I’d gotten it.

While I’d love to gather some of the OTHER patterns Galen must have had, the ones he’d used to advance past Beginner, it sounded like this one would be integral to our mission and survival, so I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The only real question was…”How much do you need for it?”

“I assume Delyrans are still in use?” he asked with interest. I nodded, remembering the ancient cave I found with Delyrans in it. The Windvein Empire must have been using that currency system for a long time. Galen, fortunately, seemed familiar with the value. “Very well, for a Grandmaster tier pattern…two thousand Delyrans. It’s a steep price, but these are the secrets of my order. I will also pass along the location of a temple where you might obtain future patterns in the series. Is this acceptable?”

I couldn’t help my wince at the price. It was fair, of course, for such a powerful pattern, but still. Two thousand Delyrans was equal to one hundred thousand dollars US. It was a sizable chunk of my current nest egg.

But ultimately, money was for spending. Nodding, I made him the offer out loud to cement the deal. Galen Croftborn, I offer you the sum of two thousand Delyrans for your Shield of Faith pattern. Do you accept?” 

“I will,” he said slowly, pulling back on the deal momentarily. “But first, I require assurances. This pattern was not gifted by my master, but by the order of my goddess. In order to pass it to you, I require your solemn vow that, should you find yourself able to do so, you will do your best to uphold the tenants of the faith of Aradnia.”

“That kind of depends on what those tenants are,” I said slowly. “I can’t promise to swear myself to a lifetime of service to a goddess I know nothing about, but if the tenants are things I can accomplish without derailing my goals, I’m certainly open to hearing about it.”

Straightening up, I could almost feel Galen’s sincerity as he began to recite the precepts of his order. “Protect the land and its people from foreign threats, protect the innocent when they cannot protect themselves, and always offer aid to those who find themselves sinking into the pits of despair. This is the Golden Code of the Lady of Sunlight, Aradnia the Dawnsister.”

As he spoke, the light around us brightened slightly, taking on a golden tinge. I looked closely but couldn’t find any place it might be coming from. That said, his words made me consider something interesting. Was Aradnia herself a speaker? I knew we could eventually become gods, and that this world was in fact the CREATION of such a god, as were all wordworlds. If Aradnia was a goddess of this realm, did that mean she was the original speaker? Or was she a native born god? Did those even exist? I felt like Alistair had mentioned other gods before.

Regardless, I wasn’t against any of that. I was willing to try to live by that kind of code, but I still needed to know how seriously he took it. Was I taking something like a vow of silence, where I needed to live every second of my life in service to Aradnia from this point on?

Rather than make a promise I couldn’t keep, I decided to just ask. “Not to be indelicate but…how strictly do I need to FOLLOW this code?”

He chuckled. “A reasonable question. Everyone’s journey through the mysteries of the Dawnsister is different. Some pay only lip service, some dedicate themselves entirely. As long as you do your best to hold Aradnia in your heart, even for my sake, I have faith you’ll find your way to the light.”

“Ok…” I said slowly. “Noted. I’ll do my best not to let you down. So, can I buy the pattern?” Since he was dead, I didn’t think the skin contract would be necessary. Actually, considering he didn’t HAVE skin, I was curious as to how I could even MAKE this purchase, but since he was able to talk and move I figured it was just advanced undead shit that I didn’t understand and decided not to dwell on it.

Chuckling, he nodded, and I flexed my Purchase skill. There was a flash of golden light, and suddenly…I knew. Shield of Faith. A powerful holy defense spell. Triggered automatically in times of great distress, Shield of Faith lasted for a full three minutes, and during that time basically nothing below Journeyman could hurt me. In terms of magics that could be considered “dark”, the shield’s efficiency was even higher, capable of holding up briefly even under attacks of a higher grade.

It was, quite frankly, one of the most powerful spells I’d ever SEEN (not that it was a long list), but that wasn’t even the important part. I blinked in disbelief. “Wait…what is the ink for this made of?”

“Heartfire Jade,” he said solemnly. “It’s an uncommon and costly first grade material that can only be found in a certain mountain range nearby. Occasionally you’ll see a piece of it in some of the caves in the area, but it’s vanishingly rare. One of the main reasons the pattern was so expensive was that the information should contain the secrets of preparing Heartfire ink. If you can find a piece of the jade, each reasonably sized chunk can make about ten vials of ink.”

I gaped. “Wait…it makes HOW many vials?” I sputtered. “How many vials are needed for the Shield of Faith?”

“Just the one,” he said cheerfully. “It’s a relatively compact design.”

“Can I…give this to other people?” I asked slowly. “Like I have a lot of friends I think could benefit from this spell. What are the requirements for me to pass it on.”

He just shrugged. “Pass on the Golden Code,” he said simply. “There are many mysteries in the vaults of the order, but Shield of Faith is only a foundational pattern. We have a duty to safeguard its use, but as a defensive spell, its potential for being abused is rather low. Pass it on as you see fit, so long as you attempt to spread the precepts of our faith as you do.”

That made a lot of sense. Something like Shield of Faith WAS kind of hard to abuse. Not impossible, obviously, it was still power, but it didn’t seem like the kind of spell that was prone to misuse. “Noted,” I told him solemnly. “Now, can you tell me the location of this temple, and then if you have any messages to pass on, you can give them to me. I owe you a lot for the information you’ve given me. If there’s anything I can do-” It honestly sucked, the fact that he was stuck down here for hundreds of years and was just going to…die.

“My loved ones have long since passed from this world,” he said kindly. “I go to join them soon, and to join my lady in the hereafter. Do not grieve me, young lord. I lived a good life, and I will be rewarded in the afterlife for my service.”

I nodded. I imagined he was probably pretty tired at this point, too. Standing up, I bent at the waist, bowing deeply to the armored figure. “Thank you,” I told him solemnly. “For everything.”

“I simply regret I cannot do more,” he sighed. “My ectoplasmic shell will dissolve upon my final passing, and as such, even the echoes of the patterns I hold will vanish. If it helps, you may sell my armor. Perhaps the old pile of scrap will be useful to you. It’s hardly in any fit state, but even frayed and tattered as it is, it is no small armament.”

I looked over the suit slowly, noting the quicksilver gleam of the metal. “I’ll do that,” I told him respectfully. “Thanks. What should I do with your…you know. Bones?”

“Place me upon the altar,” he nodded to the carved platform he’d defaced. “It should cleanse my remains to prevent them from being used in necromancy. I daresay that once my soul is gone, the animation of my skeleton would pose quite a problem for you. An unlikely eventuality, though admittedly a possibility. Best to avoid it. ”

Somehow, I didn’t doubt that. I agreed, thanked him again, and then sat beside him. At the end, he talked about his brothers and sisters in the order. His master. His goddess. His sweetheart back home. He told me about his childhood and his family and his friends. He talked about a life well lived, until he stopped talking altogether. And then I sat there, beside the body of a man who gave his life for honor, and thought about my own, and what I was doing with it.

I thought about my friends, my family, my subordinates. What was coming for all of us. And then I got up and began removing the armor so I could lay his bones to rest. I had work to do, but I still had time to honor a last request from a friend.