Egon left the small room, giving Tim time to look around. Outside of a few basins of water and supplies for bandaging wounds, there wasn’t much to look at. There was a single bench in the center of the room where someone could sit or lie down.
A woman walked into the room. She stopped and stared at Tim, obviously questioning if she was in the right place. “Brother?”
Ahh, now he understood why she was so confused. He wasn’t wearing one of the traditional robes. It would be like walking into your doctor’s office and seeing a guy in a t-shirt and flip flops waiting to give you an exam.
At least my imaginary doctor had flip-flops.
“Hi, I’m Tim.” Oh, my God, he’d done it again. Why did he always default to his name as a response in stressful situations? She didn’t care who he was. The lady just wanted to know if he could heal her.
“I must have entered the wrong healing chamber.” She started to leave the room.
Tim would fail the quest if she left the room, but he couldn’t just grab her. He pictured walking back to his inn without boots. “Are you here for healing?”
“Yes,” she replied, turning away from the door. “It’s my arm.” Her left hand moved toward her right bicep, drawing his attention to her bandaged arm.
“Then you’re in the right place.” He flashed his best disarming smile. “I’m helping the brothers out while I decide if I want to join the order.”
The woman let out a sigh of relief. “I’m Cressida.” She took a seat on the bench and looked up at him expectantly.
“Do you mind?” Tim motioned toward her bandage. Cressida shook her head, and he moved forward to undo the bloodstained wrapping. “This doesn’t look so bad.”
“That’s what I told my dad, but he insisted that I come to make sure the wound didn’t get infected.” Her shoulders slumped. “What a waste of a day.”
“I know exactly how you feel.” Although he’d picked up a couple of quests, Tim wasn’t sure he was spending his time very efficiently. His hand twitched through the motions of his one healing spell. Each time he cast it, it seemed easier than the last.
The small orb of water hovered in his hand. Tim pushed the orb against the woman’s arm, and the wound closed instantly.
He left her sitting there as he took one of the basins of water and a towel from the rack. Tim quickly wiped off her arm, amazed at the fresh, new skin, where moments ago there had been a deep cut. Cressida didn’t even have a scar.
“How does it feel?”
Cressida bent her arm, then poked it a few times. Her face scrunched like she expected the spot to hurt, but the smile spreading across her features said her arm was pain-free.
“Feels brand new.” Cressida stood up. “Maybe this wasn’t a waste of time after all.”
“I hope not.” Tim smiled gratefully as she passed him a small leather bag full of copper coins. Cressida left the room, and Tim slipped the coins into the donation box as the next parishioner walked in.
Tim groaned. “I need a nap.”
The ninth parishioner left the room as Tim sagged to the floor. His mana bar was completely drained. Why did his head feel so fuzzy?
Slowly his mana began to regenerate. With each little uptick of the blue bar, he felt better. As his energy came back, Tim climbed to his feet. The next supplicant entered the room, and he motioned for the man to take a seat while he quickly checked on his pending notifications.
Skill Increase: Healing Orb novice rank nine.
Sure your healing orb is stronger now, but you’re still a novice.
Was the AI screwing with him again? Tim didn’t even care. He loved the snarky undertone the game had; it made him feel right at home.
A man in fancy robes sat down on the bench. He pulled up the hem, exposing his bandaged leg, and lay down with his back on the bench. The wrapping on his leg was stained brown, and Tim could smell it from where he was standing six feet away.
It was the kind of leg they would have cut off during the Civil War, but in The Etheric Coast, Tim could save it. Stepping forward, he cut away the man’s bandage and almost gagged as the foul smell sucker-punched his nostrils.
“You should have come in earlier,” Tim chided gently as he prodded the man’s leg. He wasn’t sure yet if examining and understanding the wound would enhance the effectiveness of his spell, but as far as he could tell, it didn’t hurt anything.
“If I wanted a lecture, I would have stayed at home and listened to my wife complain about my leg,” the man barked gruffly. “Like I don’t have other things to do. She wants the fancy-ass house, but she also doesn’t want me to go work.” The man grimaced. “How in the fuck can I do both?”
At least Tim’s quest didn’t involve giving relationship advice. He wasn’t qualified as a love guru, but he had just chased a girl into a gameworld for the next twenty years, so he knew a little something about going above and beyond for love.
He smiled at the man. He’d figure it out or he wouldn’t. Love was a fickle mistress. “Well, let’s just see if we can’t get you back to her sooner than anticipated.” Tim conjured his healing orb and splashed it into the wound.
The dark red tendrils of infection spreading from the wound faded slightly but returned as the water dripped off the man’s leg. The wound remained open, even though it had started to draw closed around the edges.
This was going to take a lot of work.
Tim looked at the man’s leg again as his mana regenerated. When he was ready, he cast healing orb again., but while the leg was healing, Tim wasn’t doing anything for the infection. Even with his leg healed, if Tim couldn’t cure the infection, the man would still die, just as if he’d never come to the temple. There had to be something more he could do.
Growling in frustration, Tim slammed his hand into the wall. What was he missing?
“It seems you’ve hit a wall,” Paul said, entering the room. “Both figuratively and literally.”
Tim’s cheeks burned, but he looked the high priest in the eye. “I’m having a problem with the infection.”
“Let me show you something.” Paul smiled as he reached out and placed his hand against Tim’s forehead.
The same spark Tim had felt the first time he shook Paul’s hand passed between them again. He looked away from the high priest and focused on the man’s leg. It was like he knew exactly what to do. His hands moved through the gestures of the spell as if he’d known them his entire life.
His new spell activated.
The man lying on the bench let out a sigh of relief as the infection disappeared. He stood up, testing out the leg.
Tim noticed the man was still favoring it slightly and cast another healing orb. The water splashed his leg, and he began to laugh. Spinning into a little jig, the man continued to giggle as he tossed a coin purse at Tim and left the room.
Tim put the coins in the donation box and turned back around to face the high priest. “Thank you for teaching me the Cleanse Spell.”
“You can thank me by taking care of what we spoke about earlier.” Paul left the room just as Egon returned.
“I’d ask how you cured the last man, but it seems the high priest has taken a shine to you.” Brother Egon glared at him. “As it stands, you’ve completed the cardinal’s quest. Here is your reward.”
Quest: Heal Ten Supplicants Completed
Reward: Old leather boots
You have successfully healed ten parishioners as requested. Despite receiving a little help, you’ve fulfilled the terms set out in the description of the quest.
“Just take the damn boots.” Egon slammed a pair of worn boots into Tim’s chest. “It’s time to go.”
Tim took a second to put the boots into his inventory and then equipped them. The leather boots molded perfectly to his feet. At least he didn’t have to worry about finding the right size, but he still needed to find a pair of socks or he was going to have some wicked blisters later. He took a few steps in his new boots, enjoying the feeling of not
being barefoot anymore. While the boots didn’t add to his stats, they were going to make the walk home a million times better.
Brother Egon didn’t waste any time leading Tim through the halls. It dawned on him that maybe they had wanted him to fail the test. Then they could get more work out of him before they had to teach him anything. The entire quest might have been rigged from the beginning.
I’m going to have to remember the person giving the quest is just as important as the quest itself before accepting any future missions.
Tim could see bright sunlight through the wide-open doors to the temple. For some reason, he couldn’t wait to get outside. The temple felt almost claustrophobic with all of the people near the entrance.
Or maybe it was the incense.
“Tim, do you have a moment?” Cardinal Jepsom called from beside the door.
Sweet relief was so close, but if he wanted any further training, he couldn’t risk blowing off the second-highest-ranking member of the church. “I will always have time for you, Cardinal.” Tim lowered his head and ground his teeth together to keep silent.
Jepsom put an arm around Tim’s shoulders. “It seems the high priest has taken an interest in you.” The cardinal leaned close, his lips almost brushing against Tim’s ear. “Did he give you something?”
Thankfully his head was still bowed, or else the cardinal would have seen his eyes widen momentarily at the mention of the letter. No. He didn’t mention the letter specifically. The cardinal was fishing for information.
Tim looked up and met Jepsom’s eyes, his dislike for the man making it easier to lie to him with conviction. “No, sir, he just came to check on my progress.”
The cardinal looked irritated. “Are you sure? I reward my friends very well.”
Quest: Deliver the high priest’s Letter
New possible outcome: Deliver the letter to the cardinal for an unspecified reward.
The cardinal might have followers, but Tim doubted very much if he had any friends. “I’m sure.” He held the man’s gaze.
“Very well.” The cardinal shook his head as if banishing a dark thought. “Then you may go on your way.” Tim turned to leave, but the cardinal grabbed his arm. “The offer stands. If you ever come into possession of information I might find useful, you know where to find me.”
Cardinal Jepsom made the sign of the lady over his chest and began to chant as he walked deeper into the temple.
Tim stepped out into the sun and tilted his head toward the sky. The warmth felt amazing after being trapped inside the cold stone building for so long. Life was looking up. He had boots and a couple of quests to finish. Plus, he couldn’t wait to see the look on the cardinal’s face if the high priest found out what he was up to.
This was going to be epic!
Chapter Fourteen
Am I being followed?
Tim peeked over his shoulder for the third time since leaving the temple. It took him a second to locate it, but he finally saw the same hint of orange around the man’s waist. The guy was pretty good at staying hidden, keeping at least fifteen feet back and a person or two between them at all times.
There was always a chance he was just being paranoid after the cardinal’s last-second ambush at the doors of the temple, but Tim didn’t think so. The question quickly changed from am I being followed, to why, and what in the fuck am I going to do about it. The why seemed pretty simple; there was only one thing he could possibly have that Jepsom wanted.
The letter.
Tim knew something was going on at the church, and the way the quest was delivered to him seemed different than what he’d experienced in most games. Whatever internal conflict was happening inside of the temple was about to bubble over.
Whoever Tim decided to deliver the letter to would gain leverage over the other, and while he felt like he was making the right decision, how many movies had Tim seen where the seemingly kindhearted person turned out to be the dastardly villain?
Maybe he should just read the letter.
What would the harm be if he just took a peek? Reading the letter might actually give him the information he needed to make the right choice.
Tim felt the weight of the letter in the inner pocket of his robes, but he’d never been one to give in to temptation. Doing things the easy way wasn’t his style. He was more of the repeatedly bash your head against a problem until you had an epiphany kind of guy.
So instead of taking the easy way out and giving the letter to the cardinal like a good little follower, he was being followed by a man with bad intentions. He needed to come up with a plan quickly.
Flame Burst was Tim’s only damage-dealing ability, and he hadn’t used it yet. Getting into a fight with an untested ability wasn’t very smart. He didn’t know much about the game, but he was pretty sure he could use his scepter like a bat. Also, if the person was above level five, he might only stand a chance if he bashed him over the head from behind.
“My way doesn’t seem very sportsmanlike,” Tim mumbled as he picked up his pace.
Provoking a direct confrontation seemed like an easy way to handle things, but he could lose, and losing meant death in this game. Tim wasn’t an adventurer yet, so losing also meant giving up all the progress he’d made in the game so far. He wasn’t ready to risk his life after working all day to raise his skills. Leading the man away from the crowded streets and trying to kill him wasn’t the only option he had.
What Tim actually needed was more people around him.
With more people around, he might be able to escape, or maybe even alert the city guards to the man’s stalkerish tendencies. The guards were stationed at regular intervals on the north side of town. It was a plan with a lot of promise, assuming, of course, that Cardinal Jepsom didn’t have the city guards in his pocket.
We all know what happens when you assume things.
If he couldn’t go to the guards, and a direct confrontation would probably result in his death, what was he going to do? The idea hit him like a head-on collision between a semi-truck and a compact. All he had to do was keep walking.
He’d gone to a few of those free protection classes on campus. Sure, they were mostly for women, but sometimes it paid to be in the know. One thing they always stressed in any potentially dangerous situation was to find a campus police officer or one of the blue emergency beacons.
If neither of those options was attainable, your next best chance was to go into a crowded place. Apparently, shitty assholes who were likely to attack a woman were less likely to do it in the presence of other people.
But there was something else Tim loved about crowds—it was easy to get lost in them.
Tim pulled up his map and adjusted his course to head toward the ocean and the marketplace. One thing he knew about medieval cities and their counterparts in games was that the harbor would be busy, and the marketplace would be insane. Once he was in the crush of people, it couldn’t possibly be too difficult to lose his pursuer.
The hardest part of Tim’s plan was walking slowly when he knew there was someone behind him potentially wanting to do him harm. All he wanted to do was run. Every noise threatened to push his growing sense of panic over the edge. He was like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun to set him free, and yet he managed to keep the same slow pace he’d had since leaving the temple.
The marketplace came into view, and Tim stared at it in wonder. He’d never been to one of the great open-air bazaars that were famous all over the world, but he had been to the swap meet a time or two. The sprawling commercial quarter was something Tim would have never imagined in his wildest dreams.
The marketplace might as well have been its own city. Hundreds of booths lined the open thoroughfare. Shops and restaurants occupied both sides of the streets. Every building was filled to the point of overflowing. There had to be tens of thousands of people moving through the lanes between stalls.
Seeing so many people in one place was kind of a shock after the desolate streets
of the slums. All of them were so packed together, it was hard to discern individual people from where he was standing. Looking down on the market from above was like watching schools of fish from a distance. All Tim saw were groups of color flowing down the streets.
The market was exactly what he needed to make a break for it.
A smile broke out across Tim’s face as he quickened his pace. If he could get into the press of people and cause a distraction, there was a good chance he could get away. All he needed was a chance. Otherwise, he’d have to abandon his quest to deliver the letter until another time and head back to the inn, where he’d be safe in his room.
There was work for him to do at the inn as well, and Tim had the distinct impression that he was going to need a good night’s rest before meeting the smith in the morning. Being a blacksmith’s apprentice wasn’t going to be easy, but it sure beat the hell out of cleaning up horseshit. Imagine signing up to scrape horseshit off the cobbles for the next twenty years!
At least those guys had one up on the guy cleaning chamber pots.
As he entered the market, Tim saw the man behind him try to close the distance between them. This was it; he had to act now. A man walked by carrying a crate of apples. Tim kicked out, catching the heel of the man’s boot as he passed. The merchant bumped into someone on his left and then pitched forward, spilling the crate of apples all over the street.
People milling around darted forward, stealing the apples as the merchant swore and swatted at their extended hands. Tim spotted the same flash of orange again, only this time he knew what it was. The man following him had an orange sash tied around his waist. Not exactly discreet, but most of the citizens here wore at least one piece of brightly colored clothing.
Were the colors people had on representative of factions within the city? Tim marked the thought for further examination as he wove through the crowd. Reaching out, his fingers closed around the notched wooden barrel full of salted fish. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Tim yanked on the barrel and sent it tumbling to the ground.
Rise of the Grandmaster Page 11