Book 3: Chapter 36 - 40 (Edited) (Patreon)

Chapter 36 - Jealousy

The thorn in one’s foot is of greater concern than the knife in another’s guts.

- A Quassian Aphorism

You have gained 1 Luck.

Such simple words, bound with so much meaning. It was a hint, as strong as any, that I was on the right path. The universe itself was bending over backwards for me.

Or a sign that I had avoided a most unfortunate outcome. Regardless, my outlook remained optimistic. I've always been the type to see the glass as half full.

Bounding up the stairs, sometimes two or three at a time, I was on the verge of whistling, my spirits high. Despite the unsettling and bewildering moment experienced upon touching the stone, I was, on the whole, quite pleased with myself. The game seemed to have presented me with what appeared to be a chain quest. Should I manage to see it through, the rewards promised to be significant. Already quite monetarily rewarding, I realized, thinking on the few valuable notes I received..

In a rather tangential, yet valuable, learning experience, the Necromancer's impromptu experiment with various holy books had shed some light on the lore of this world. In particular, I had learned something about the various gods and divine beings who vied against one another. 

It proved to be quite enlightening, albeit a touch perilous at the outset. The whips of bone had been intimidating, though, I believe they served more of a distraction while the Necromancer prepared a more damaging spell. I would have to learn more tact in dealing with him in the future.

Fortune, the fickle whore of gamblers, was favoring me.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I scanned the area for a familiar face. A sudden tap on my shoulder caused me to whirl around in surprise. It was Zariyah, her expression a blend of mild concern and playfulness. 

I saw a veritable armory descending the stairs and feared you might have kicked over another hornet's nest, she chided, her brows knitting together in an endearingly worrisome way.

“Worry not, all is well,” I assured her with a grin, only causing her to look even more concerned.

In truth, I wanted to lift her up and spin her around in joy. Only my reserve and society’s expectations stopped me. It could, however, not stop the stupid smile that was spreading wider across my face. 

“Hey, lady… who’s that?” interrupted a voice followed by some raucous cheers.

The smile froze on my face, and my few moments of joy shattered like brittle glass. 

A group of typical adventurers, looking as if they had stepped off the pages of a poorly written fantasy novel, sat drinking around a table. Raising cups, mugs, and tankards in raucous joy, they were singing some awful-sounding ditty. A grimace stole over me, as a red-haired female of their group drunk from a helm, with a spastic grin on her face. I would have found the scene amusing were it not for weapons at their belts, or the ones leaning against the table.

They would not take no for an answer, she shot at me guiltily. Was there a hint of a smile on her lips? Of course, there was.

Seconds later, she had rejoined this rag-tag group, all bright-eyed and in good cheer.

I had come from a struggle, my life hanging in the balance, as I defied the gods. Now I returned, only to find the person who was supposed to be waiting for me was instead partying with a bunch of lugger louts.

“Come over and finish your drink! But you don’t have to bring your friend!” a handsome blonde man with chiseled clean-cut features shouted out in our direction. “Just joking and yanking your chain! You can drink with us, but buy your own! You got to be a troublemaker like to have old Ezlas after you so soon! An’ let me tell you all of that time when I fought a Watcher, single-handed and the like,” he exclaimed, slapping on the table with good cheer, ignoring the chorus of forced groans from his friends.

“Lay orf with that worn tale, Guy!” a dwarf grumbled good-naturedly with no real malice. 

Jealousy danced with my natural aversion for the likes of Guy. People were drawn naturally to types like those. Like butterflies to beautiful flowers. The perfect ones. The lucky ones. Put on a pedestal by those who sought to worship them and, high on their own popularity, they soon learn to get exactly what they want. Every now and again they would dole out a kind word or a small deed, and, like Mana from heaven, people licked it up. Men, and women, like Guy, reveled in the natural order of society that bent itself to serve their whims. Insufferable.

Was I overthinking things?

Guy reached for Zariyah, grabbing her. She put up only a token of resistance as he laughed and deposited her on his lap. Hate, that irrational and constant friend, flared hot and high.

“We were just leaving,” I delivered flatly through gritted teeth. 

“Come now… you are in the company of friends! We could all meet our end tomorrow. Best to live it now!” wheedled Guy, catching my eye in challenge as he bounced Zariyah on his lap. The girl coyly covered her mouth, stifling a silent giggle. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

If it was not one thing, it was another.

“You know better than be a causing trouble again. Your silliness has been costing us our proper place up the ranks… stuck on Bronze for far too long because of the likes of you. Leave things be an’ let her go, you moon-kissed loon,” warned the dwarf grumbling.

Thank you master dwarf, I whispered to myself. Thank you.

I took the time to look over the group, trying to ingrain their features upon my memory. The temptation to use Identify was there, but I was still leery of it since my encounter with the Necromancer. It would do me well also to keep in mind that not all conflict should be solved with the simplest of methods, though tempting it was.

I weighed my options.

A group of five, the first was the current object of my ire, the blonde man, Guy, in a heavy coat of chain. The redhead was wearing civilian clothing, a tight yellow-stained blouse, and a pair of garish loose blue trousers. Her clothes were stained, recently doused in fresh drink, and I could see the wet cloth clinging to a rather muscular frame. If I was in a generous mood I could have admitted she was vaguely attractive. 

The dwarf was black of hair, a long braided beard trailing down past his portly waist. His demeanor, typical of his race, added a certain gravity to his presence. Even garbed in thick gray robes, I still noticed the telltale hints of armor underneath. 

The remaining three were enigmatic, their features so common it was challenging to remember them. Perhaps siblings, they shared the same dull brown hair, dull brown eyes, and average nondescript features. I found it hard to commit them to memory. Like the sotted redhead, they were in civilian attire, garbed in dull reds with the loose clothes of the local cut.

“Perhaps the lady wants to stay a bit longer?” ventured Guy, as he downed some more of his drink with his free hand.

“And perhaps you would like to make an enemy of a Magister of the Guild,” I tried to say, coolly, of course.

Before he could splutter a response, the trio decided to add their opinions on the matter.

“We saw…” one of them started.

“…him go down,” continued another.

“Ezlas not soon after…” said the last one.

“A stormcloud of anger is Ezlas. Scary man,” the first again commented.

“Old man Ezlas was thunder,” added the second one.

“This one is not afraid. We think he is a friend of the dark one. Do not press. Do not,” they begged together, at last, their voices in disturbing harmony.

Though their speech was annoying and disjointed, I still couldn’t help but sneer as they made my case for me.

“Oh Aye, let it be, Guy. I’ll treat ya lad later for a tumble and turn at the best house in the Flower Quarter. S’not worth it mate,” rumbled the companion dwarf in warning.

“That is rather an insult to the lady, comparing her lovely company to a common whore. We have just met, but I certainly must say I feel a certain something for this one. The eyes are of an enchanting shade,” he drawled, tracing a line down her inner thigh. As his fingers sought their destination, she met my gaze with a challenging look that was most irksome. 

A provocative, coy smile then played across her lips, acting like a matador's flag taunting a bull. It was clear. She was goading me, daring me to react. The woman was enjoying this.

Making eye contact with me, he pantomimed a whisper loud enough for all to hear, “Like the taste of something forbidden. This one doesn’t make a sound. Sets the imagination on fire.”

Faux shock played with girlish shyness on Zariyah’s features.

“Bit of a challenge to make this one scream. I can see why some develop a taste for the crimson sluts,” Guy guffawed, showing some of his true colors. The girl visibly stiffened in real shock. She had not expected this. Zariyah overplayed her hand, I noted to myself with a small sense of satisfaction. 

My face colored with held-back rage. Despite the clear childishness on her part, he had said too much. Too much. Provocation or not, it had been a long time since I felt anger for someone other than myself. 

My vision narrowed to just encompass Guy, and Zariyah was feebly struggling to escape his grasp. I could feel myself preparing for a fight. Anger rose in a flood. It was too late, the dam would burst. But I was saved.

“Stop messing around like children in the yard,” commanded someone from behind me. A voice that cut through the hubbub. A voice I knew. 

I turned around slowly, taking in the presence of my savior. It was the intimidating Ezlas, with a jovial smile on his face that was at odds with the fearsome garb of his profession.

In the presence of greater power, Guy visibly shrinked, pushing away Zariyah as if she were made of hot coals. 

“Just a bit of fun Ezlas, no need for any…” he started in explanation, the waver in his voice betraying his cowardice.

Zariyah’s desultory glare at Guy was confirmation enough for Ezlas. How many victims, I wondered, had fallen prey to Guy’s ‘little bit of fun.’ That was the problem with coming to a world, place, or time, as socially and culturally backward as this one.

I offered Ezlas a quick spoken thanks, focusing more on my formal bow, palms pressed to the back of my head. He accepted it with a small professional nod, before walking off to whatever it was that he needed to do.

Despite all of this, a part of me could not help but feel that I had been betrayed in some manner or another. A sneaking shard of negativity that wormed its way through the emotional cracks as I thought about it more. 

Guy was muttering in his cup, his attention now focused on the Ezlas’ retreating form.

I took Zariyah by the hand, escorting her out of the Guild and into the still-bright afternoon sun. The heat was almost palpable, the shimmering air above the hot stones of the courtyard evidence of the fact. 

The red-eyed girl shot me a dirty glance, realizing our hands were still clasped. Without thinking, I offered an apology.

I thought I asked you not to touch me like that in public, I've tolerated unwanted advances for too long, she stated clearly with her hands before crossing her arms. 

I sighed inwardly, seeing where this was headed as I studied her stance and expression. Even at my young age, I understood enough about women to recognize the signs. The girl was gearing up for a verbal skirmish. Preparing myself, I decided that a preemptive approach was the best strategy for handling the situation.

Still, pathetic as it was, I was hurt. Her words, silent though they were, rung loud enough to cut through to the truth of the matter. I remembered her initial hidden smile with Guy, the way she had looked at him. The spark of simple attraction. I had been blind until I had been presented with a comparison. It was a rejection of me, just another thing I had to cope with. Another raw deal.

More than that, she had thought to use me for whatever fickle reason she had. For fun, if anything else, was my best guess.

“Thank you for today. I can make my own way back,” I said frostily. It did me no good to be led around the nose by a woman. One needed detachment.

Is that so? You would have an unmarried woman walk home unescorted, she told me, her hands indignant in their motion.

“It is a new age for personal liberty and the accountability that comes with it,” I snorted. The words felt hollow even as they left my mouth, nothing more than broken wind.

You are trying to punish me, then. So be it, her hands stated as she sniffed at me. Turning her back to me, she unfurled her new parasol and crossed the courtyard. A part of me almost expected her to throw the gift in my face. 

But, she was thicker-skinned than I gave her credit for, I realized as I watched her make her escape from me.

*****

I wandered aimlessly, my feet moving with the flow of the street traffic as I delved into memories of the past. Unlike positive ones, negative memories had a way of resurfacing and consuming us. It was as if humans had a masochistic tendency to dwell on their own pain, like picking at a scab, unable to resist revisiting moments of turmoil and sorrow, again and again. And, I was no different, it seemed. Still human, the emotional core of me, at least.

It was late afternoon and the sun was losing its battle against the creeping encroachment of the evening. The usual bustle of the city had quieted down, leaving the air feeling stale and listless. The scents of incense and spice, once almost omnipresent, had vanished, leaving behind only the pervasive stench of densely packed humanity.

The architecture here bore the marks of neglect, a stark contrast to the more affluent areas. Buildings, dilapidated and worn, showed the scars of time and misuse. I saw a once grand structure, now defaced with graffiti scrawled across its grimy walls. An industrious vandal had even climbed up to deface the friezes' carved faces. To make matters worse, an old beggar had chosen the building's side to relieve himself. This quarter of Al-Lazar lay steeped in poverty, a sharp departure from the city's general opulence.

Despite being far from where I believed I should be, a curious, almost voyeuristic impulse drove me to explore deeper. For reasons I could not quite articulate, there was a sense of safety here, as if, in a twisted way, this place felt more genuine to me than anything else in this fantastical realm. Witnessing humanity at its lowest somehow lent this place an air of authenticity.

As I ventured further, the scene grew more dismal. The people here were destitute, devoid of hope, resembling walking corpses with lifeless eyes, lacking even the will to beg. From descriptions I had heard, they were, for the most part, Dust addicts. Their eyes were hollow and lost to an old dream. 

I had expected violence in this rougher part of town, but two desperate-looking thugs saw the dried blood on my clothes, the blade at my waist, and thought better of it. 

Two feral dogs snarled and tussled over what I initially mistook for rotten meat, only to discover it was a human limb. 

Grim realization hit me hard. This quarter must serve as the city's dumping ground for human refuse. The invisible and unwanted of society. 

Then why did I continue to stay? Why did I choose to explore further of my own volition? Was it because I wanted to believe? Surely this place, no matter how authentic in its depiction, was ultimately a facade. Reality lay elsewhere.

"Please, sir," a high-pitched voice interrupted from behind, breaking me away from these depressive thoughts. 

I started to turn, pausing for a moment as an inexplicable hesitation seized me. It was as though I stood at destiny's crossroads, with the sense that my impending decision would significantly shape the unfolding narrative. The moment carried the unmistakable aura of a pivotal, perhaps scripted, event.

The owner of the voice was a small grubby child, dangerously thin. Her hair cascaded in loose tangles of dull gold without luster, framing a visage marked by the rigors of want. Clad in the merest of rags, her form seemed more a wraith than that of a child's, a specter of deprivation.

"Good mister ser, a trifle for my mother, ill and in dire need," implored the waif, her voice a whisper, but sounding as if a cacophony.

Ignore her, a voice, one of many within, warned. At worst, this is a lie, a trap, if nothing else. At best her mother is a Dust addict who deserves her fate. A harsh sentence, indeed, yet within her counsel lay a kernel of wisdom, bitter though it was.

I looked once again at the child. Truly seeing her. Her eyes, deep pools of liquid brown, held the weight of a life unkind. In the depth of their hollow gaze, I saw an honest entreaty.

“This day has been long and you entreat powers beyond your comprehension, little girl. What led you to me? I am the end of oblivion itself,” I answered in a hollow voice that was not quite mine.

'You alright? You sure talk funny, mister ser. So, you can help, right?' she persisted, extending her hand towards me.

Here, in the heart of urban misery, I found no compelling reason to aid her. Absolutely none. Despite having grown in power, the motivations that spurred me on seemed shallow, the kind that only a naive youth might harbor. Was it to impress someone? To overpower obstacles? To prove a point?

Saving her mother might seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Yet, considering life's inherent meaninglessness, succumbing to nihilism was not the solution. Could not be the solution.

True power was not just the ability to vanquish foes but also the grace to save. To spare and shelter those whom I chose. Ultimately, it represented the freedom to make choices. Even in a world that might be nothing more than an intricate digital illusion, the decisions I made still shaped me. 

My thoughts shaded everything. What I chose to do colored my path.

With this conclusion, I felt something change, like the click of a lock falling into place or the first turning of the hand of a once broken clock.

“You have my attention. Take me to this mother of yours. My hand shall save,” I declared with bold confidence.

The beggar girl could only look at me with total surprise, her eyes widening to a ridiculous degree with newfound hope.

“First though, what is your name child? And be quick about it. I do not have all day,” I requested, lowering myself to one knee to her level.

“Theo,” she responded nervously. Uncertainty laced in her voice and her eyes grew big as teacups.

“Very well, Theo,” I said in all seriousness as I took her small, grubby hand in mine. Her eyes managed to widen even further, her mouth shaping into a perfect 'O' of surprise."

Chapter 37 - Mercy

The closing pages of a courtesan’s are that of a withering flower. Beautiful color and fragrance are forever soon lost, with nobody caring to spare the once subtle bloom a second glance. For youth flies as fast as the fleeting clouds, and fortune passes without lingering.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Together, the little girl and I ventured into what seemed like a labyrinthine warren, populated by a neglected segment of humanity. The buildings and streets we navigated resembled the decaying ruins of a fallen civilization rather than a part of the city where people lived. Along the way, we encountered many suffering the harsh vicissitudes of human existence. Some were blind or missing limbs, others visibly ill, and many appeared to be dead or dying. Those who were relatively hale and whole of body, like Theo, looked haunted. They carried in their eyes a weight of suffering that made me feel guilty just looking at them. 

I questioned why anyone would choose to be here. However, as I thought upon the manner, and ignored a few more entreaties for help, I realized that it was a foolish question. Choice had little to do with their current predicament. Rather, it was the harsh hand of fortune and circumstance that had corralled them into this forgotten corner of the city.

As I waded up to my knees in the mire of these depressive thoughts, I sensed a shift in the atmosphere of the place. Were this a forest, the sudden silence of birds and insects would have signaled the presence of a predator. I felt that same primal warning here, a sense of danger in the air. Then came a muffled cry from some distant alley. This was quickly stifled, but soon followed by another. I paused, the hackles on my neck rising as another scream came, this time closer, then another. It had the feeling of a bitter harvest, and each cry sent a shiver down my spine. Something was approaching.

Where were the cries of alarm? Were the people here so meek that they would just accept their fate? The streets were full of debris, human and otherwise. One could not travel them at such speeds unless…

A thought intruded upon me, prey hardly looked upward.

I searched around, scanning upwards for the source of my disquiet. A tile fell from a nearby rooftop, smashing into fragments on the street. A heartbeat later, a slender figure, clad in funereal black leaped from what must have been three stories. Masked, long hair tied in a braid whipped behind this new mystery like a snake as it landed in front of me with almost inhuman grace.

Damnit, another fight, I thought to myself as the figure leaped at me, in attack. 

No, not at me, I realized. It was little Theo who was in danger. The dastardly thing was targeting the weakest first.

Instinctively, I positioned myself between her and the threat. The mysterious attacker’s fists, encased in spiked gauntlets, hurtled toward me with sudden velocity. Reflexively, a web of worm-like threads knitted together to form my Mimic shield, my primary defense. The Mimic intercepted a heavy punch, but that was not without cost. Bits of the Mimic’s false wood and metal exterior were sheared off by the blow and its Health dropped significantly. What's more, these fragments soon melted into a grayish goo. Stone sizzled and hissed where this matter met the stone of the pavement. A few drops found themselves on my opponent's upper arm, melting black cloth to reveal a fine dark silver mesh beneath.

Suddenly, with my shield obstructing my view, I lost sight of my assailant and found myself swept off my feet, crashing to the hard stone ground. She had taken my legs from under me with a sweeping blow and was even now spinning into the combination's next move. Reflex, or perhaps the Dodge skill, made me immediately roll to my left as a heel came crashing down that would have smashed my skull.

By some miracle, I was able to rise lightly to my feet in the same motion. 

My attacker had the air of someone who was performing a necessary, but unwelcome, task. No battle cry or challenge came forth. The blows kept on coming, but there was no anger or emotion behind the strikes. He, or she, just seemed to be, almost playing with me. Drawing the dagger at my side, I tried to weave in a few attacks of my own, but my small blade found only air.

With the fluid movements, my attacker dodged the sharp edge of my weapon and delivered a rising kick that snapped my head back, jarring my brain. She flipped away, leaving me staggering as my vision blurred momentarily.

“You should be dead,” remarked my attacker in a flat feminine voice. A woman then. Of course, it would be. I would be taking no joy in this.

I wiped some blood off my chin, grinning to myself as I felt the wound already starting to slowly close. “It speaks,” I spat back. That last attack, in truth, had been dangerous, taking off about forty points of my Health.

Unluckily for her, my Health was already slowly recovering and my Mana was basically full. Stamina, too, was also just over three-quarters. If this became a battle of attrition, my victory would be all but certain. I had a feeling that this represented something deeper, but I had to deal with the here and now. To add to my problems, my Mimic’s Health had been worn down to just a little over half.

All the while, Theo looked on, stock still, gobsmacked and helpless at our exchange. I was tempted to warn her to run, but that would make finding her later difficult. Another chore I did not need.

It was time to stack the deck in my favor.

She must have noticed something different about me and I could not help but to let a smirk make its way across my face. I called Entropic Aura to me and the magic flared to life with a great pulse. Waves of it emanated off me and I could feel the dark echo that was the mark of my magic. Caution now colored the mysterious figure's stance.

Rust, too, heeded my call, the sibilant spell forming itself before I sent it out at the masked woman. Almost simultaneously with the spell's completion, she lunged at me again.

The silver on the exposed part of her arm momentarily glimmered as vines of black lightning from the spell attempted to corrode the metal. Even emboldened by my Entropic Aura, the spell could find no soil to take root. Utterly confounded by this failure, I was left with no choice but to endure the subsequent barrage of blows that steadily depleted my Health. As the spell withered and faded away, my surprise and dismay impaired my responses. I had been certain the spell would have sealed her doom.

A heavy blow landed, an open palm strike of all things, that smashed against my sternum and caused my heart to skip a beat. Tasting the copper-iron of blood, a system message obnoxiously popped up, which I soon dismissed, as my Health dropped even further. Almost as if in response, my Mimic shield smashed itself against her side, causing her to let out a grunt of pain. 

Still disoriented, I employed Dash and managed to put some distance between us. A part of me seethed at the realization that I was being bested in close combat. My opponent was swift, significantly faster than me, even without the encumbrance of my armor. My mind raced. Unlike the others I had encountered up to this point, she posed a genuine threat.

Then, something whizzed past me, twin slivers of metal going in the general direction of the woman. However, I heard only the sound of metal scraping and careening off stone.  

Was I saved? Or did I face yet another foe?

Distracted, I looked to find the source of the flying metal but found only an empty alley behind me. When I turned around again, ready to re-engage, my mysterious enemy had disappeared.  Where had my attacker, or attackers, gone? I continued scanning around as I cast Heal on myself, cursing the seconds it took to complete as I ignored its holy song of purity. With My health more or less restored, I searched for her, launching a few Identifies in random directions, but only received useless explanations for buildings and old rubbish. 

Cursing to myself, I gathered up an unresisting Theo and quickly left.

*****

We ran for a few minutes before continuing at a controlled ambling pace. To go at a run in a place such as this would be inviting trouble. Predators had a habit of being drawn to running prey and it would draw attention to us. Though the encounter with the hateful woman had yielded few gains in experience, I had received a point in Constitution for surviving what probably were two near-fatal blows. Who would have known? Perhaps I had made a mistake in focusing on just being able to absorb damage. All it meant was that I would just die slower, I thought bitterly. I resolved to invest some points in some of the more offensive attributes on my next level up.

Eventually, we reached what a somewhat shaken Theo referred to as home. It was a makeshift structure, cobbled together from random pieces of wood and assorted debris, barely resembling a lean-to shack. 

“So… thanks for earlier mister ser. For saving me! That was a fight like the stories!” the small girl piped. She continued to blabber on for a bit in incredulous thanks, but I simply nodded in return. I wanted this day over with.

“Before I go in, who, or what, was that?” I breathed.

“That’s prolly the Monster… they say you don’t see her and get to live,” she answered fearfully. I could even hear the distinct capitalization. “Say, like, it kills the unfortunate. Some folk ‘round here have been calling it Mercy on because that it’s like a mercy if you… or something.” 

“If that was Mercy… then I am Justice,” I proclaimed, trying to comfort her. Even as the words left my lips, I couldn’t help but cringe. Very off-brand. Oddly, I sort of felt responsible for her and though the words were in half-jest, they felt sort of right. Something approved. 

The shelter seemed precarious, as if it might collapse at any moment. Yet, when little Theo pulled aside a piece of cloth that served as the door, she gestured grandly for me to enter, her smile beaming with misplaced pride.

“Theo…” a woman’s weak voice called from within.

“I brought help, Mama,” the little girl offered back.

The last dregs of an early evening’s sun filtered through the many holes and cracks of the shelter, creating a sort of half-gloom. The stench of disease, stewed for too long, hung in the air like the notes of an overplayed song. Lying on the pallet was a woman ravaged by what I assumed to be disease. I drew a sharp breath in disgust. Sores and pustules ran across her arms and face, and her eyes were rheumy and almost unseeing. 

Seeing my reaction, she smiled sadly. For all of her disfigurements, when she smiled I saw the clear familial resemblance to Theo. The woman lifted an arm, pointing to their collection of meager things.

“Theophania, remember… your manners, give our… guest some water at least,” she said faintly, a hint of stern iron in her voice. I saw in her the pride of the poor. 

“Yes, Mama!” Theophania exclaimed, whizzing off happily. In almost record time she produced a dirty and chipped cup and a vase full of dubious water. 

With a certain seriousness, Theo poured water into the cup as if it were the finest of wines. When she finished, she bowed in a courtly manner and offered me the cup. The moves were rehearsed, like a stage play.

“My thanks to you for your hospitality,” I replied in turn, giving her a curt nod. In the formal way, I held the cup in both hands and raised it to my lips, pretending to drink from it.

“Leave… us now, Theo. Keep a lookout in case the bad men come. The gentleman… and I have things… we must discuss,” the sick woman commanded.

With one last curious look shot in my direction, she parted the cloth of the entrance and left their humble abode.

“Thank you… stranger. My name is Elenora… to whom do I speak?” she managed to get out, before she was overtaken by a fit of coughing.

“Gilgamesh is my name in these lands,” was my reply. Automatically, I sat down by her crude pallet to better hear her words.

“Your answer… leads to more questions. A man of mystery. But… I am growing tired. There is some money over there,” she pointed weakly at the corner. “Not a lot… but enough to see for my funeral rites. You have a look about you…” she paused, drawing a weak breath. “ I did not actually think that Theo would succeed in finding someone willing to help. I had sent her off to find Mercy so I could be alone while I took poison. An end for both of us. We are a pitiable pair, failing to do both. My daughter, in finding Mercy and finding a swift end, and me a coward for clinging onto this worthless life. But perhaps something can be saved from our failure. Ah, a Copper badge, you must be an Adventurer, yes?”

“Yes, I am. And you, you are a sick creature to send a child off like that.”

She avoided my eyes, instead focusing on my badge. “Who are you to judge me? That badge proclaims that you have killed, too, like Mercy. Every day I have prayed for deliverance. Then I… ask you… please end my life,” she pleaded.

“Are you sure that is your wish?” came my frank response.

Temptation clouded my mind as my hands sought to wring out what little life was left in her, just for the experience. It was not every day that something was served up to me, meager though it might be. A twisted part of me even whispered that it would be rude not to accept. Also, it would be a form of justice for Theo.

I shook my head in denial.

“Please… I lack the strength to take even my own life,” she rasped, before another round of coughing overcame her.

I felt angry. Anger at myself. Anger at the world. “My hand will save,” was my stern response. In an almost sympathetic reaction, Entropic Aura burst out of me, uncontrolled.

It was too late to hold it back, and I wished to experiment. It was as unstoppable as the urge that compels someone to throw a stone into a calm pond, just to witness the disruption—the expanding ripples, the aftermath. What would happen if light intertwined with darkness? I commenced the Greater Heal spell, feeling its threads resist my call as though coerced. The pure melody of righteousness emerged. Chords of light clashed with the waves of gray and funereal black. Strands of gold managed to interweave, morphing into a new liquid bronze. The normally vibrant auric gold faded, becoming as muted as the evening’s light.

As if in complaint, the textures of the world failed to load properly, morphing into strange shapes and anomalies. My vision glitched as the world turned monochrome before color returned. Was this spell bugging out the world? An error that could be exploited? 

For a brief moment, I believed I was on the brink of uncovering an irreverent and unholy truth. However, that insight slipped away as the spell took effect on the woman.

The flesh of her body filled out as vitality flowed into her. 

Emaciated, skeletal limbs grew healthy and whole. The sunken areas of her face filled in, vanishing right before my eyes. Her hair and eyes shimmered with renewed vitality as magic, not quite of this world, ran rampant through her. More Mana was taken from me, sapping my strength and vitality. Far more than was normal for the spell, and my Mana dipped into the single digits. More worryingly, my Stamina, alongside my Mana, was being drained at a prodigious rate.

Time itself seemed to halt and then rewind, smoothing out the traces of its passage. Yet, where her illness had marked her, an unusual phenomenon occurred. The sores and cankers seared into her skin, forming intricate patterns that shifted with each pulse of entropy.

Eventually, like all things must, the spell reached its conclusion, The woman before me gave a gasp of renewed breath as surprise and wonder filled the hollow places of her soul.

"That was the healing of the great temples… only those sanctified by the gods themselves can perform such acts after being supplied with sufficient offerings…” she uttered in a tone now that was a surprisingly deep and pleasant timbre. Her next words sounded hollow, the echo of spent emotion. “Only those sanctified by the gods themselves can perform such acts...,” she said, her voice imbued with disbelief. “I would not have expected it... especially not here, of all places. To think that hesitation and cowardice saved my life.”

The woman’s gaze wandered, searching, until a decision was reached. With a nod to herself, she cast aside the rags serving as her bed and rose, clad only in her scant undergarments.

Despite regaining her health, Elenora's figure was slightly thinner than I preferred. However, even with the smudges of dirt on her skin, her attractiveness was undeniable. Her doe eyes met mine, challenging, as she asked for her clothes with a commanding yet unfazed tone. “Could you pass me those?” she requested archly, smiling knowingly at me and pointing at the pile of only slightly better attire.

Blushing, I found myself caught in her momentum and I complied. After passing her the clothes, I turned around. Shortly after, Theophania burst into the room, radiating joy, and leaped into her mother's arms. They embraced, breaking the spell Elenora had cast over me with her presence.

“You're walking again! You look nice! Everything can be like it was before! I just knew it!!” the happy girl said, bouncing in her mother’s arms. “No bad men this time, of course!” she added as an afterthought.

“Oh, Theo, I'm so, so sorry,” she whispered over and over, tenderly stroking her daughter's hair. Tears welled in her eyes, a tumultuous blend of guilt, happiness, joy, and sorrow stirring within her.

“Why are you sorry, Ele? I did just fine, right?" Theo asked, confusion evident in her eyes. 

“You did more than fine,” she paused, her voice almost breaking. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she replied, embracing Theo fiercely. 

A cynical part of me had the feeling that those words were for more to her own doubts than anything else.  

“And you, Master Gilgamesh…” she paused, sampling the unfamiliar sound. “You, you have my heartfelt thanks. I will always be indebted to you,” she stated bluntly, disentangling herself from her daughter and wiping away her tears. She looked away, hissing almost through her teeth before shaking her head. Looking at me imploringly she added, “I have nothing to offer you. Yet, I must ask for more help, shamelessly so.”

“Please, help me and my daughter. We cannot stay here any longer. I prayed for only death, and you appeared. There must be some meaning in that. Perhaps, I am being rewarded for a past life more virtuously lived than this one,' she half-mused, looking away momentarily before her gaze returned, filled with steely resolve. 'If you leave us now, we will only die here. Your gracious actions will have been nothing more than a stay of execution. Please, help us. I beg of you. I feel that there is a link between you and I,” she begged, bowing deeply and guiding her daughter to do the same with her free hand.

I did not need this responsibility. There was no benefit for me.

Silent, I waited, almost expecting the world to signal a new quest to provide justification for what my conscience impelled me to do. No such sign came. 

Yet, despite all of this, my mouth formed the next words as naturally as breathing, “Very well.” The answer had with it an air of finality that served to irk me no end.

“A thousand thanks, samasa,” came Elenora’s reply, which was echoed shortly after by her daughter.

“You are also too trusting… what if I am some kind of monster seeking to take advantage of you?”

“Take advantage of someone who has nothing? I do not think that would be the question a monster would be asking. Besides, if you wanted to kill us or have your way with us there was, and is, nothing stopping you,” she replied blithely.

Joy beamed about Theo’s face for salvation found, a path out of this mire.

Chapter 38 - Save Point

Fearing the things that are alien to us is a sign of our insignificance.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

Thankfully, extricating ourselves out of the dump was relatively simple and uneventful. According to Elenora and Theo, their former home was ironically called the Silk Quarter. Al-lazar had fought back the encroachment of night with a host of artificial lights, both magical and mundane. The mark of a higher civilization. The Dome of Becoming, the tallest monument, glowed almost as brightly, its majesty barely challenged. Not so for the poor Silk Quarter, for their night had landed truly, causing me to be cautious almost to the extreme. I was fearful, not for myself, but for my charges. Every shadow held a potential threat, every wayward glance in our direction a warning. It was like one of those hated escort quests that had always annoyed me.

I tried badgering Theo’s mother about their past, but for the most part, I had received only evasive answers. Not wanting to be rude, I decided not to push further. Theophania, on the other hand, was a never-ending stream of questions, her curiosity seemingly unaffected by the day's earlier dangers.

More oddly, I found that Elenora had forbidden Theo from calling her mother. When pressed, she simply stated that it made her feel old.

We arrived tired and bedraggled at the Begonia’s Shade. The day had been long and hard, and coming back here gave me a certain sense of closure. As if this inn acted as a central hub where I could save my game and so forth. It was a shame that I could not save the game.

 The first sight to greet me was that of Kidu in the common room, his large presence drawing the eye. Unlike the barbarian I expected him to be, I saw him eating delicately at his meal with the correct utensils. Larynda, sitting next to him, was devouring a side of mutton in a manner more fitting of my initial expectations of the northern savage, creating a striking contrast. Today was full of surprises.

And of Elwin, there was still no sign. The man could be a ghost at times.

“Gilgamesh of Uruk! You look like you were in a fight with something out of the storm. And lost,” Kidu commented, laughing between mouthfuls. 

I responded with a dry, “Thank you, as always,” while the pair behind me offered polite bows.

Naira, the innkeeper, approached after attending to another table, her gaze assessing. “I presume a bath is in order? I’ll prepare the room and water for,” her eyes briefly settled on Elenora and her daughter before returning to me, “three.”

“That would be perfect, along with a change of clothes for me. My harness and gambeson?”

“Ready in two days. Tomorrow evening, if he does not drink this evening.”

A pleasant surprise, if not a curious answer. “Very good. And, of course, the Lady Zariyah?”

Amused by the title, Naira smiled. “The lady is in my room, resting. She mentioned that today's excitement was too much. It seems too much excitement can unsettle both heart and soul.”

“I couldn’t agree more. These are Theophania and her mother, Elenora. For now, could you please attend to their needs?”

*****

After giving the smiling serving girl Ninurta the remains of my bloodstained and torn clothing outside the inn’s baths, I informed her that I would be taking my evening meal in my room. 

I was able to enjoy a moment of peace, free from violence. Taking a moment to unwind, I looked over my body and tested it, moving my limbs and testing their range and movement. Miraculously, it seemed my magic had prevented any lasting damage. There was a fleeting concern about potential internal injuries, but it quickly dissipated, likely a mere shadow cast by the stress I had endured, washed away by the warmth of the water.

Dressing in clean clothes afterward felt extraordinarily luxurious, a simple pleasure magnified by the day's trials.

Going to my room, I made sure to put on my sword, fashion and convenience be damned. I just sat on the edge of my bed and reviewed my character sheet.

[STATUS] Calling: Gilgamesh lvl.14 Paladin/Reaver

Strength: 32

Dexterity: 26

Constitution: 47

Intelligence: 25

Wisdom: 22

Charisma: 16

Luck: 24

Entropic Mimic [Creature of Entropy - lvl.25] 

Health: 387/537

Stamina: 26/65

Mana: 1/1

Adaptive Defense (lvl.2)

Shield Form (lvl.2)

SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES

Pain Nullification (lvl.3) 

Power Strike (lvl.4) 10

Endure (lvl.5)

Stealth (lvl.2)

Rest (lvl.4)

Backstab (lvl.2)

Dodge (lvl.3)

Polearms (lvl.3)

Dual Wield (lvl.2)

Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.4)

Improved Unarmed Combat (lvl.1)

Hammers (lvl.4)

Flails (lvl.3)

Maces (lvl.3)

Shields (lvl.3)

Medium Armour (lvl.4)

Improved Heavy Armour (lvl.1)

Axes (lvl.2)

Daggers (lvl.4)

Throwing Weapons (lvl.2)

Double Throw (lvl.1) 5

Shield Bash (lvl.2) 10

Riding (lvl.2)

Dash (lvl.1) 10

Swords (lvl.3)

Crossbows (lvl.4)

Blind-Fighting (lvl.2)

Rush Strike (lvl.1) 20

Tracking (lvl.1)

Trap Detection (lvl.1)

Frenzied Strikes (lvl.2) 30

Monster Taming (lvl.1)

SPELLS & MAGIC

Heal (lvl.5) 5 

Rust (lvl.4) 2

Identify (lvl.3) 1

Silent Casting (lvl.2)

Mana Regeneration (lvl.2) 

Purify (lvl.2) 3 

Greater Heal (lvl.2) 10 

Holy Aura (lvl.3) 2 

Decay (lvl.1) 1

Drain (lvl.5) 2 

Entropic Aura (lvl.3) 2 

Inferno Bolts (lvl.2) 2

GIFTS

Curse of Entropy: -20% to all starting attributes.

Mark of the Paladin:  10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical.  

Touch of the Void:  10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.

Mark of the Adaptive Helix:  5% resistance to Physical, Minor Regeneration

Experience to next level 208/1283

Health: 404/441

Stamina: 42/76

Mana: 4/18

A few points of experience from combat and four points of ‘organic’ attribute gains were not a bad haul for a single day. Still, it was not commensurate to the amount of effort I had exerted, nor the suffering I had to go through body and mind. Didn’t games like this tend to have a reverse difficulty curve? Weren’t things meant to get easier as I progressed? I thought I had a solid build…

More interestingly, my Mimic had grown along with me, as it had gained a level with the subsequent increase in attributes. Also, its skills had risen which meant that, like me, it experienced organic growth.

There was a small knock on the door.

“Sir, your meal,” came Ninurta’s small voice.

“Come in,” I replied brusquely and she opened the door.

A smell of curried meat wafted in with the serving girl and my eyes feasted on the evening meal. Until then, I had not realized just exactly how hungry I was. Along with the meal, Elwin sauntered in with a look somewhere between knowing amusement and genuine worry.

“You were up to a lot today. Mind if I join you for a bite or two?”

I took a small breath before fixing a polite expression. “Not at all. Ninurta, if you please, a little more food and wine for my guest.”

“As you wish, samasa,” the girl answered seriously, skittering out of the room after placing down the meal and drinks on the low table of the room.

“The big man seems to be enjoying real civilization, can’t blame him for it. Been a long hard trip on the road with not really much in the way of anything. We should all have a talk, jus’ the three of us, you know. The original crew that fate has taken down this merry road,” he explained casually, shrugging his shoulders.

I looked him over, searching for anything casual observation might have missed. “Are you in a maudlin mood, Elwin, or is there something else you wish to say?” I asked, not much in the mood for anything. Company, even Elwin’s company, might be a better companion than stewing myself in my own thoughts.

“Now… let me just get a quick sip. Throat’s mighty parched as I’ve heard that a certain someone has been busy in the great city of Al-Lazar,” he replied saucily before sitting down cross-legged on the carpet. 

Wishing he would just get to it, I nonetheless joined him. Not that I had much choice. “What do you mean?”

“Picking fights with the furries. Oh, and consorting with probably practitioners of the dark arts, more picking fights, saving some random women in the slums from the depths of poverty for no reason, and you guessed it… more fights. The last one, by the look of it, she would have had you if I didn’t put my best foot forward. Took me ages to find my blades after that… Yes, you can thank the magnificent Elwin for that. Took one good look at me and thought better of it!” he answered smugly, helping himself to some of my evening repast.

“Cowards that prey on the weak and vulnerable often turn tail at the first sign of real resistance,” I remarked blithely, cracking my neck.

Curried meat of unknown origins lay before me on a bed of saffron-yellow rice. The aroma of it tantalized me, coaxing a fresh hunger to gnaw at my belly. A part of me suddenly regretted allowing Elwin to join me, as I sat down cross-legged, opposite him.

“Right random it all is. Pretty long list for a day’s activities. Wonder where you find the time for it all? And why for that matter,” he commented between mouthfuls.

Taking a moment to savor the first bite of the meal, I idled in my response. How had he known? Perhaps he had spoken with Zariyah and Elenora, but his last comments suggested that he had witnessed things firsthand.

“You followed me?”

“That I did. ‘I saw that savage animal start it, I did!’ sound familiar? Always got your back I do! And, I can tell you, it seems that I have not lost my touch. I don’t know if you’re worthy of respect or just plain stupid at times. What’s the word the big man always uses, god-touched right?”

“That was all you then…” I replied a little sourly. Still, I was in no mood to chastise anyone and still a little mentally exhausted. “If you want to help, just make it a bit more obvious next time.

“So?” he insisted, gesturing with his hands for me to explain.

“So?” 

“Why you do it? All of that?” he insisted again.

“Because it felt like the right thing to do? Do I need any other reasons?” was my arch reply.

“It’s just that, now don’t take offense here, but you just don’t seem to be that type. As I said before, it just seems so very random,” he continued placatingly, pouring a glass of watered wine for him and me.

With a grin that I hoped annoyed, I gave my blithe answer, “Perhaps, it is because the fates and the gods will it? Praise be to the goddess and all of that.” 

I enjoyed his expression as I finally enjoyed my evening meal, bland though it tasted. 

Chapter 39 - New Purpose

There is nothing more contemptible and pitiful than the bravery of the weak and powerless.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

A night filled with dreams of familiar horrors that, by now, felt almost cartoonish in their extravagance. I awoke, shaking off the dread of the night with a casual yawn. It was nothing short of amazing how swiftly one could grow inured to even the strangest of things.

Still, life was filled with surprises. That morning, Kidu brought breakfast, the tray of food looking almost comically small in his giant hands. 

“It is time we talk,” he stated simply, setting the table.

"Very well, my friend, what's on your mind?" I responded with a smile, ready to engage in conversation.

"No… first we eat, then we talk. It's best to settle the stomach before settling other matters," he replied gruffly, setting the tone for our interaction.

With that, we shared a slightly awkward breakfast of gruel mixed with fresh fruit and honey. While it wasn't the year's highlight, it was decently palatable.

"We do not open our mouths and speak as much as those from the warm lands. I believe words should be sparingly used, only to enhance the silence. Yet, there are words that need to be said," he started in explanation, his words coming out as if almost forced.

“And so, first, I must thank you Gilgamesh of Uruk. I have never truly said it. By your actions, I was freed. And not just from the iron chains,” he stated without reserve.

I shifted a little embarrassed by the praise, well-deserving though it was.

“No thanks are necessary. We were all in the same boat, as it were, and we all did what was necessary. Nothing more and nothing less,” I replied, laughing weakly. 

This whole exchange, for Kidu at least, was quite possibly a version of verbal diarrhea. I wonder what had suddenly brought it on?

He looked me directly in the eyes. “There's no need for the kind of humility that disappears with the spring thaw... I've learned a great deal from you." He paused to take a deep breath, his broad chest expanding as if he were a great bellows, then exhaled slowly. The large man interlocked his fingers, rubbing his hands together as he prepared himself. "I have a confession to make...”

My spoon stopped halfway to my lips.

“I hated violence. Always hated it,” he said.

What had I been expecting? The world, of course, did not revolve around me, I thought to myself wryly. Was I already suffering some sort of main character syndrome?

I felt a profound sense of relief. Despite my progressive beliefs, which include the acceptance of homosexuality, I preferred to keep such matters at a distance from my personal life. While the notion might be flattering in a detached sense, it could undeniably introduce significant awkwardness into our relationship.

“I have never told anyone this, not even my sister Aruru. It would have made me weak. Yet it had gnawed at me. Violence, I had always believed, was the worst thing you could do to another being…” he breathed, desperate to let it all out at once.

Was Kidu going into a philosophizing mode? It was like watching a sheep sprout wings and start breathing fire. Kidu abhorred violence?

He looked away as if living a distant memory. “The taking of life… I could not stand it. My spear would often fly with an aim to miss its mark, my arrows without purpose. Even fighting against others in the deep months of winter, I sought to impair and to intimidate, rather than to kill. But, kill I did, and the grief and guilt weighed about me like a heavy stone. And… and… I got better at it. If just to end things quicker. I built about me a shell of lies that grew with each year until they changed into something resembling truth” 

“It was a weakness. You have shown me otherwise. You have shown me the joy one can take from it. You have shown me the truth of it. Thank you. It is thanks to you that I was able to grow to be a better person,” he confessed.

I had mixed feelings about receiving a compliment such as this. At the very least, I think, I might have made him a more decisive person.

“Good for you, Kidu… err,” I replied awkwardly between another bite. “And Larynda, how has she been? I am sorry to have foisted her off on you and Cordelia, but I have been busy with other matters.”

“The little one is well. She progresses quickly, well quickly for a girl. There are limits.”

“Perhaps you should not say that, in quite those words, when Cordelia is around”

“Perhaps so. There is wisdom in those words.” he guffawed, slapping the table. “But best you impart some of your wisdom on the little one. She pesters me constantly with questions I can not answer.”

“I think I will do just that.”

*****

In my conversation with Kidu, I realized that I could potentially deeply influence those around me, although the specifics of how I could do so remained unclear.  For instance, what event or dialogue choices were necessary to get the desired result?

Fulfilling my promise, I spent some time sharing the knowledge of my world with Larynda. For some reason, she showed a peculiar interest in the human circulatory system and the mechanics of blood flow. To satisfy her curiosity, I sketched a basic diagram on a rough piece of paper, detailing the functions of the heart, veins, and arteries. This initiative eventually led me to explain respiration, though I encountered some difficulties. Larynda lacked the foundational knowledge to grasp some of the concepts fully. Elwin, who joined us later, seemed to find the information quite enlightening, murmuring to himself as he listened.

More rewarding than all of this was the message from the world, telling me that I was on the right path.

You have gained 1 Wisdom.

This experience made me wonder if this was how the first missionaries felt. However, unlike them, I was spreading scientific enlightenment instead of religious misinformation, which I found liberating.

Yet, this sparked a series of selfish and dark thoughts as I shared a simple lunch with Cordelia. 

Staring at me with a convert’s fervor, her next words intruded, “You are in contemplation?”

“Yes, one could say that. I am pondering on the nature of reality. If this, all of this, the world itself that we live in, is nothing more than something like a dream?” I speculated, throwing out a well-worn point.

Her response was almost chillingly like that of the conclusion that greater minds than I had come up with. “Yes, it is the common curse of man to seek explanation for simple truths that are, of course, self-evident. We think, do we not? To question our very capacity for thought and the agency that comes with it, to acknowledge these simple truths, or to deny our role in a plan or purpose leads us only down a path of nihilism and existential despair.”

“And what of the plan your Goddess has for me?”

“That is something only She can know. But rest assured, you are playing a part in it. You are the very embodiment of her will. Your existence gives meaning and order to all around you. Your words are her words. Her will is your will. That is simply how things are. To doubt that is to doubt that water is wet,” she stated with deep conviction, the fire of faith in her eyes burning bright.

If only she knew half of the truth of the matter. I had thrown off her shackles even before coming to this world. Cordelia’s words, now instead of filling me with dread, became the seed of a grand plan. I spoke with the voice of the Goddess behind me. That could be used.

What if I used religion to my advantage? Cordelia revered me almost as a Messianic figure sent from her Goddess, which, in a manner, I was. Just her very presence next to me, a Temple Knight wielding a holy blade of the Goddess lent great credence to my position.

But this led me to question the morality of exploiting religion in such a way. Was it right to inflict religion in such a manner on these unsuspecting natives? Was it right to draw deep from that well of lies?

More importantly, what inspiration could I draw from the falsehoods of my own world? If my Charisma was high enough, would it be possible?

Around and around these thoughts whirled, their future forms still indistinct, hidden thick by the mists of time. 

These thoughts swirled in my mind, their future shapes blurred and obscured by the mists of uncertainty. I awaited guidance, a sign from beyond to illuminate my path. Yet, no such message arrived. This silence, in its own way, provided the clarity I sought. The decision was mine to make and mine alone. I would keep it in reserve for now, a card I could play once I had grown more fully into my power.

“Perhaps you should spend a little time with the young Larynda. It is often in the innocence of children that we can find answers to once simple questions, now clouded by worldly sensibilities,” the beautiful woman advised, placing down her utensils with almost religious reference.

I stopped an exasperated sigh from making its escape at the last moment. Was this the world's answer? Spend more time with the half-elven child?

*****

The rest of the day was spent in idle contemplation and in rest. I was quickly learning that all the skills and magic in the world did little for simple mental fatigue.

The next morning, I spent a little time dilly-dallying here and there in the early hours. For reasons that I knew nothing about, Zariyah had left early. I took the time instead to check on Patches, seeing her contentedly lying down on a bed of hay. Rather remarkable, I thought to myself, a compliment to the stablehands. Donkeys and horses only lay down in areas where they felt safe. Bravo. 

Upon feeding Patches a local purple fruit, for which she showed scant gratitude, I decided it was time to review my finances with the owner of the Begonia’s Shade. It didn’t take long for me to realize that my expenses were steadily draining my purse. Purchases here and there, meals, drinks, laundry services, and so on, were all adding up. During the conversation with Naira, I broached the subject of possibly finding some form of employment for Elenora. If anything, it might help curb some of my bleeding.

I chose to defer the matter of the mother-daughter pair that I had picked up until later. 

Going through the kitchens, back into the inn proper, I espied  Larynda stealing a honeyed snack with her sticky fingers. I stopped her, my hands shooting out faster than I expected. I dragged her outside.

Her eyes grew as wide as moons in surprise, but almost in reflex an excuse was already making its way out of her lips.

“Dun’t mean nothing. Cook said I could have it, like…” she blurted.

I looked at her, caring nothing for the act of larceny that I had just witnessed. 

“Just don’t steal from me. And, if you are going to do it, best not do it so close to home, eh? Now, get your things and help me into my armor?”

“Where we going?” she asked, confused.

“You wanted to be an Adventurer, right?”

Chapter 40 - Sewer Rats

When dragons fight, it is the trees that are burned.

- A Quassian aphorism.

Through a raised visor, I munched on some laverbread, the flavor almost an afterthought for me. Encased in solid steel, I felt more confident and safe. Skipping beside me, Larynda was her usual whirlwind of effervescence. She had decided to wear a dagger at her waist and took with her one of the wooden practice staves I had bought for her long ago. The staff looked a little different now, strange symbols were carved upon it, in the design of animals and plants. Kidu’s work, if I was not mistaken. 

Words continued to spill forth from her mouth in a cascade of curiosity and praise. In the midst of her relentless inquiries and scattered compliments, my mind drifted to the events that had led to my current predicament. A task that I would take no pleasure in.

*****

It all started as she had helped me into my plate harness. Whoever Naira had commissioned to repair my armor had done a good job. The thoughtful innkeeper had also acquired for me some iron bolts for my crossbow without any prompting. Free of charge, I hoped. 

As we slowly put on my armored skin, I remembered the fight I had with the masked woman in the Silk Quarter. With sufficient levels and points invested into my attributes, I was sure I could eventually match her skill and speed. That was, after all, the nature of the game. What I could not match, at least not yet, were her lithe and flexible motions. An inkling of an idea on how to rectify this formed in the back of my mind. I would require Kidu’s help.

I found the wild man in the common area, drinking already, despite the early hour. His deep laugh was infectious, his brash ribaldry causing some of the female staff to blush. However, some had chosen to linger a touch closer, and a touch longer, than would be expected. 

“Morning to you, Kidu! I see this morning finds you well!” I called out.

“Yes, this city life. It agrees with me much. No hunting for five hours in the snow. I can see how the warm landers grow soft! Though this place is hot, not warm!”

“Just so! I have come to ask a favor from you. It requires your great strength,”

“Ask,” he returned gruffly, looking away as he swallowed another bite of his breakfast.

*****

The experience had been surprising and, admittedly, a bit costly in terms of Mana. Larynda watched on in astonishment as I began to instruct Kidu. Ensuring I was at full Health, I had him force my body to stretch, tearing away unsuspecting ligaments and muscles. I then cast Heal on myself each time to mend the inflicted damage. Larynda winced painfully at the sight, but it was important to demonstrate that some achievements require sacrifice. After all, as the saying goes, ‘No pain, no gain.’ Fortunately, in this world, I could conveniently do away with most of the pain if I was careful.

Thus, I became more flexible and limber in movement than I had ever been before.

“It is as Elwin speaks. You are an odd duck,” stated Kidu a little unbelievingly, his usual deep voice a shocked octave higher.

“No, it was as you said. God-touched, yes? Without them, I would not have been able to do this. I just decided to use their blessings a little creatively,” I stated simply.

The small half-elf looked at me as if I were a loon. “Why you have to go that far, though? I know you didn’t cry out, which was scary an’ all, but it still musta really really hurt like… So why?” interrupted the small half-elven child.

I thought about the encounter with the masked woman again, remembering being bested. Searching for an answer, the real reason was just experimentation. Primarily, it was to see if I could, and to do what was necessary to improve the state of my body, to get whatever small advantage I could get. However, I doubted that would be a satisfying answer for the child. Remembering the guards’ of the caravan blatherings, I decided to make that the answer.

“The Festival. I intend to enter. It will be a good test of might and will require a small degree of flexibility, no?” I answered glibly.

“I guess so,” she replied weakly.

“If Gilgamesh of Uruk is entering this Festival, then so too is Kidu of the Three Bears! These warm landers will learn how real men do things!” roared Kidu in declaration.

“If Kidu is doing it, it must be fun. So I might too!” bubbled the little girl as she stood a bit taller, getting caught up in the flow.

I quickly turned my sneer into a smile and shrugged my shoulders at the tall man, realizing that my eyes barely reached his chest.

“But before that, a little training is required, no? I have always believed that to learn by doing is usually the best. Larynda and I were going to do some tasks for the Adventurer’s Guild. Will you join us?”

“Pah! Not unless I have to… I must do my own training. This Festival is a test of might with no weapons, yes?”

Larynda visibly paled at Kidu’s words.

“Just so,” I succinctly answered. “No matter. Suit yourself, son of the Three Bears. Come now Larynda, we must register you with the Guild. This was your dream, right?”

*****

Registering Larynda at the Al-Lazar branch of the Guild had been a relatively simple, if not expensive affair, at six silver. More surprising than the cost was that it was allowed at all. Such contrivances that we all took for granted, such as child labor laws, simply did not exist in this world. 

The woman who had taken down her details was a timid creature, too pale by far for this part of the world, and her skin was paying the price. Freckles had invaded and taken over much of her face. Still, she was efficient, and that was all that mattered in the end. Her name was Aldina, if I remember correctly.

She led the little girl upstairs to meet with the Guildmaster, no doubt to touch the Bonding Crystal and say the oath or whatever initiation rituals the Guild required. I waited on the ground floor, availing myself of the services provided. Purchasing a Health and Mana Potion, I could not help but think that the prices were, of course, horrendous. But that was the price you paid for convenience.

Like a miser checking over his hoard, I kept on checking my Mana. I willed it to rise, debating whether or not to consume my recently bought Mana potion. In the end, thrift won out and Larynda came back with a new copper badge and even more skip to her step.

Should I check on the Necromancer Vincenzio? No, I decided. The man had said he would send word, so wait I would. I would be amply awarded for my patience so I decided to let the matter rest for a bit longer.

Now was the matter of getting a job.

Walking over to the large board, only a few scraps were left, even at this time of the day. The inconvenient, impossible, or simply loathsome requests were all that were left behind. I ground my teeth in frustration, ripping out one of the notice requests.

Slay 20 Sewer Rats (Tails Required) - 8 Silver, the notice read. A hollow laugh escaped from my lips as I registered the contrived silliness of it all. Receiving a few odd looks and I worried frown from Larynda, I simply had to admit to myself one thing. If this wasn’t proof that this world was nothing more than a game, then I do not know what would. It was almost as if the universe itself was mocking my earlier resolution to take this world more seriously.

*****

The walk to the nearest entrance of the Perfumery, the city's sewer network, was relatively uneventful, despite its location in the Silk Quarter. As I passed by the rough tanneries and rougher dwellings, a disheveled individual, a desperate Dust addict with glazed, wild eyes, accosted me. He begged for a few coins, but my response was a quick kick, sending him on his way. As expected, the city folk around us didn't spare a single glance in our direction.

“Whatever you do, don’t grow up to be like one of those,” I suggested to Larynda.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. That’s exactly what I don’t want to be like!” was her surprisingly mature response. I had expected an entreaty to be kinder.

Turning a corner, I stopped suddenly. Larynda skidded to a halt behind me, bumping into my back. I stood in front of some serious-looking gates guarded by some very mean and rough sorts. The construction was decorated with hellish imagery, the dark wood banded with steel. Before the gates, were what I assumed to be the Perfumers, the maintenance workers and de facto guards of the sewers. The greater part of them wore heavy armor of varying quality, type, and styles and only a few of them were in civilian clothing. However, they all wore the same uniform lantern at their hips.

A sour stench, just a hint of it, for the time being, emanated sinisterly from beyond. We had arrived at our destination, the entrance to the sewers of Al-Lazar.

To supply a city as dense in population as the City of Dust with water was a monumental proposition and ensuring its sanitation with the limited advancements of this world, doubly so. Along with the briefest of explanations, the receptionist had provided me with a rough map of the sewer network, and from my cursory study of it, it truly was almost as impressive a feat of engineering as the city above. The maintenance of such a sanitary network alone would cost a fortune daily. 

And thus it was the Perfumed Men, the sewage workers of the city, that this humble duty fell upon. Funded by the Council of Al-Lazar, they were essentially an arm of the local government, and like most things run by governments, woefully inefficient and ineffective. It was the Guild of Adventurers that took up the slack, culling the multitude of things that bred in the dark depths of the sewers. It was an example of outsourcing, the lazy last resort of failed administrators.

“You one of the new ones? Copper rankers, right?” a large bulky man asked, stepping up to me and not-so-subtly blocking my way.

I looked at him square in the eyes, willing my expression to be a pleasant one. On a basic human level, I found it to be difficult to treat such an ugly person in a pleasant manner. A scraggly beard did little to hide a face that had never recovered from its war with acne, and his eyes looked in different directions like a crazed chameleon. Despite his ugly excuse for a face, this man was more muscle than fat, if the thick exposed neck above his armor and wide shoulders were anything to go by.

“Aren’t the pair of you… well a little scrawny and young to be going into the Under Gardens? Ain’t exactly the place fer…” he continued, nattering on like an old woman.

“I am stronger than I look. Likely more so than you. And the girl, she can probably kill everyone here with a few words. We are here on a ridiculous quest to kill twenty Sewer Rats. Now step aside and let us in,” I commanded, still in my most pleasant voice. Larynda stuck out her tongue at him.

“Ho! Ho!” he laughed off my claim, “The brazen balls on this one!” His toothless comrades chuckled alongside him. “Be our guest. Just thought of giving you a piece of advice. People have died down there, is all. Lost a few mates over the years. You can’t be careless down there,” he answered placatingly. I noticed there was an edge of nervousness in his voice. 

“Mate, just you know you ain’t the first to be going down today. Another groups has been down there since yesterday evening. One of you lot,” he commented. “Also, likes, you should probably be at least taking a torch or lantern down there. We can rent you one out at a reasonable price… All of you be needing one if you want to go down.”

“We will be alright, but thank you,” I stated tightly, 

“Perhaps, you don’t get it. You be needing one to go down, and the price of a rental goes up the longer I’m talking,” he stated no-so-subtly.

“As I said, we will be alright,” I replied firmly, unwrapping a cloth bundle from my boiled leather satchel. A bright piece of Zajasite answered his suggestion.

He wiped his forehead with an armored forearm, the gesture more symbolic than anything else. “Well I’ll be, that’s a stone from the Travelling People. They don’t give ‘em out or sell them to outsiders,” he said awestruck, the flame of avarice burning brightly in his odious features.

“They don’t. Now, may I enter, or must I make a formal complaint to the Guild? Step aside,” was my simple and flat response.

He looked around nervously, probably thinking to make light of the situation. I looked at him with eyes, dead in their seriousness, willing him to say anything out of order so I could have the merest of excuses to end him.

“Yeah, can we go in now or do I have to kill 'em all like you said, Gil?” Larynda cut in with childish innocence, drawing worried glances from the men around them.

“Mate, no need for any o’ that now. Is the rules that you have to pay us for the service,” he answered worriedly.

Something was afoot here, the receptionist at the Guild had made no mention of this. This whole thing, truly, stank of simple corruption. 

“No. No, you were not. I know your type. You were trying to threaten me. Now you are probably wondering how you can rob me. See this stone? Take it from me if you can. I invite you to it,” I offered, giving them each a confident smile. “I dare you all.”

The big man looked for support from the men behind him but found none. Perfect.

“Likes I said, now, there be no need for that. That stone be more than enough to pay fer going in for a year…” he said, nodding to himself as he came closer. 

I answered him with an armored backhand that knocked him almost spinning to the ground. He reached for a round mace at his waist as he tried to regain his feet, but I simply kicked at it with a steel boot, knocking it out of his grip.

“You… can’t be doing this,” he wheezed, a bloodied and broken nose adding to his beauty. “I’ll be reporting this to the City Guard and your Guild I will!”

I noticed his friends looking in different directions, slowly edging away from him at an appropriately cautious speed.

“The contemptible blatherings of the weak. You will do no such thing, because if you do… well you won’t be able to do much after. Let’s leave it at that. Oh, come to think of it, you have wasted quite a bit of my time on what should have been a relatively simple procedure.”

“Was a shakedown if you ask me, Gil,” commented the little girl, her childish voice at odds with the content of her words.

“Yes, you are most likely correct. That it was. Here I was thinking for a moment that this city was meant to be civilized. Disappointment, it follows me wherever I go,” I lamented comically, as I sent out my searching spell. A trick I had learned to keep people off balance.

Arif Rashid - Sewage Worker (Human lvl.12)

Health: 101/147

Stamina: 28/31

Mana: 7/7

“Don’t you think I deserve a token of apology for this heinous waste of time? Arif Rashid,” I demanded.

I had grown to love this Identify, for its utility in breaking down a person’s worth into objective numbers.