by Stone Thomas
“This reminds me of when I opened my builder skill,” she said. “Opening a skill requires a sponsor. The sponsor spends XP to transfer their knowledge, and the recipient spends XP to gain it. It’s that XP cost that stops people from opening new skills at random. You have to be really serious about it.
“The skillmeister spends XP too though,” she added. “Some deities and head priests refuse to transfer skills at all because of the XP spend, but the temples that allow it usually require a sacrifice.”
“He’s an old steed, but healthy,” the woman said. “It’s not enough to compensate for the XP cost, but he’s all we have.”
“The donkey is your sacrifice?” I asked. “I’m supposed to kill that animal, and use the XP to help unlock your daughter’s woodcarver skill?” I said it aloud so everyone would hear how barbaric and absurd it was, but all they did was nod.
Open both skillmeister windows at once, Nola said. You should see an option to transfer skills between them. Then you’ll know what this costs.
I did as Nola suggested, ignoring the dull pain that still throbbed inside my head.
Three thousand XP from each of them, and one thousand from me?, I asked. That’s a little excessive.
It is what it is, Nola said. If you don’t want to do it, you can refuse.
“Why woodcarving?” I asked.
“I want my daughter to follow in—” the woman started.
“I’d like to hear from your daughter,” I said. The girl was barely a teenager. She hid halfway behind her mother, avoiding eye contact this whole time.
“I want to follow in my mother’s footsteps,” she said. “We run a small shop out in the woods, from the cabin we live in. See?” She stepped forward and opened her hands, revealing a small wooden carving of a bird. “I can only do simple things so far, but with woodcarver skills I could craft faster and better. I could make items with special properties even.”
“Tell him,” the girl’s mother said.
“My mother, her hands hurt all the time now. Carving is getting hard for her, but it’s how we put food on the table. I want to be able to help.”
“How did you save up all the experience necessary for this?” I asked.
“I killed a lot of things,” she said. “Not donkeys! Spiders. Mice. Whatever little pests crept into the cabin. I’ve been doing it for years now.”
“And this is something that you really want?” I asked. She nodded vigorously.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
Vix stepped forward and handed me a knife while the girl’s mother led the donkey toward the altar.
Donkeys in my temple, Nola said. Donkeys. In my temple!
This won’t take long, I said.
I took the knife and held it against the donkey’s throat. “Is this really what you want?” I asked the woman. “This innocent animal will die. It will be quick, but painful.”
The girl’s lip started to quiver, but the mother was resolute. “Yes.”
I looked back at Vix. Her face didn’t register any shock at this sacrifice. Nola was distracted by Shane.
“No,” I said. “I won’t do it.”
“But you said—” the woman said.
“That I would transfer the skill and open the woodcarver class for your daughter, yes,” I said. “But this should be a happy occasion, one not drenched in an animal’s blood.” I put the knife on the floor. “Let’s begin.”
I opened their skillmeister menus, then spent down their XP to transfer skills. I was disappointed to see that my Precision Training skill didn’t reduce the cost for the sponsor, the recipient, or me. Opening skills was unavoidably expensive.
When I finished, the girl’s mother thanked me, bowed to Nola, and reached for the reins to her intended sacrifice.
“Leave the donkey,” I said.
“Excuse me?” the woman asked.
“You were going to stand there while I slit your animal’s throat and drained its blood for the small XP boost it would provide,” I said. “I don’t trust you with his life. He stays here now. You should too, to stay safe from the forest’s dangers.”
“No,” she said, letting go of the donkey’s reins. “Our cabin is on a small road between villages. That traffic brings our only customers. Thank you.” She hung her head as she led her daughter out of the temple and into the forest.
“Oh thank gods,” Vix said. “I was afraid I was going to have to Wallop you. You looked like you would really kill that poor creature.”
“You’re the one that handed me the knife!” I said.
“I know,” she said, smiling. “Maybe I was testing you, like you did with Lily and Ambry. I didn’t want you to make rules for the temple on my account, I wanted it to come from you.
“In the olden days, especially during the first god war, temples in the human lands used to take sacrifices,” she continued, “but not livestock, beasts of burden, or wild animals. Those deaths provided too little XP. Humans used to hunt beastkin to sacrifice.”
“That’s terrible,” I said. “The gods allowed that?”
“Many of them,” Nola said. “I’ve heard the stories. Gods in the beastkin lands never did the same to humans though. They didn’t think war justified doing something that dishonorable.”
Shane brayed in the background. I turned back and saw him mounting the new donkey from behind.
“This is why I don’t want donkeys in the temple!” Nola yelled. “They have no sense of decorum.”
“Aren’t they both male?” I asked.
“Now it all makes sense,” Vix said. “I knew I picked up on something. It was the donkey that was trying to seduce Arden this whole time!”
“At least he has a new friend to aim his affections at,” Nola said.
“Gay donkeys,” I said. “Halcyon welcomes everyone.”
“Just not inside the temple,” Nola said.
“So I’m supposed to interrupt this?” I asked.
“I’m not doing it,” she said.
“Shoo!” Vix said, waving her arms at the animals. After they broke away from each other, Vix led both donkeys toward the temple’s doorway. She looked back before she left and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Now, Nola, I said. About those adventurers.
Before you say anything—, she said.
I hate them, I said. All of them. Every adventurer that ever lived, because they’re all that way, aren’t they?
She sighed with her mind. Their egos expand with their skills, but they are a necessary inconvenience. And now that they’ve pledged fealty, they won’t lay a hand on your or me again.
And Cindra?, I asked. Or anyone else for that matter? Hork is a predator.
I gave him a boon of premonition, she said. His little brain is overwhelmed with images that he can’t process. He’s just lying on the guest house floor, shaking. He’s no problem for now, and once we have some kind of treasure to offer them we can send them on a quest and get rid of them.
For that, I said, we need Yurip to approve Halcyon. And isn’t attacking a head priest some kind of crime?
Technically, Nola said, we’re a “frontier” settlement until the empire decides to approve us. That means the empire does nothing to enforce criminal law here. We might as well be a brigand camp.
“Godsdamned empire,” I said.
“You should be more grateful,” Yurip said. The small man waltzed into the temple through the still-broken front door. “This is the longest era of peace and prosperity in all the lands, thanks only to the empire’s just and firm rule.”
“You call this peace and prosperity?” I asked. “The god of war has the Imperial City surrounded. The Great Mother is trapped, and powerless. The empire has no guards or defenses to offer the rest of us. Meadowdale is a steaming pile of rubble, and I just got smashed in the cranium!” My volume rose with each word.
“More defamation,” Yurip said. “The Imperial City is the strongest fortress of righteous power ever known. D
uul could not approach her royal metropolis, let alone surround it, without suffering harm that would render him a useless pebble of a deity.”
“You must have pledged fealty to the god of cognitive dissonance,” I said. “The Great Mother is in trouble. The gods are warring as we speak. You heard Kāya yourself.”
“Kāya,” Yurip said, “appears to be the newest goddess of chaos. As such, nothing she says is trustworthy. She seeks to sow discord, not truth.”
“Is that why you came for a morning visit to the temple?” I asked. “To tell me how wonderful the empire is?”
“No,” he said. “I’m here to tell you how terrible you are.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“I do not need my hundreds of checklists to see what’s happening here. Lack of sewers, insufficient food for population size, goblin infestation, an uncertified mine, and unmitigated street fighting that landed two men in the infirmary. This place is not fit to serve the empire as an approved population center.
“But what really ices the sweet roll, so to speak, is illegal skillmeistering. Every person here confessed to it, proudly. You, Arden Hochbright, are a criminal in violation of the policies the empire relies on to fund the work it does to maintain the peace. For that, you have earned a scofflaw’s curse.”
Yurip pointed a wan finger at me, and two blue circles illuminated in the air. They spun toward me, faster than I could step aside or raise my spear to block them. They landed on my wrists and burned a brilliant sapphire color before disappearing, leaving behind a stain on my skin that stretched from hand to elbow.
“I will return with guards to arrest you and bring you to trial in the Imperial City. Until then, this marks you as the lawbreaker you are.” I stepped forward with Razortooth, but Nola stopped me.
That will be impossible, she said.
“With the portal network down,” I yelled, “you’ll have a hell of a time bringing reinforcements anywhere near here.”
“Is it down?” he asked. “A temporary setback, to be sure. I’ll share the guest house with the fearless adventurers for now.”
“Not without pledging fealty first,” I said.
“Under imperial decree 908,” he replied, “no one other than the Great Mother shall require fealty of an imperial worker at a temporary post.”
It’s okay, Arden, Nola said. He’s harmless, unless he starts reading those awful law books to me. Boredom attacks are my weakness. A scofflaw’s curse is nothing to be blue about.
Very funny, I said.
I’m serious, she said. Out here, people aren’t as loyal to the empire as Yurip may think.
Yurip turned and left the temple.
Where is Gowes?, I asked.
Floating around the hill with Eranza trailing behind him like a child with a runaway balloon.
Good, I said. I like Gowes and all, but he makes frank discussion a little difficult sometimes. The settlement has gotten crowded, fast, and I don’t like how open we are to outsiders that show up and don’t leave.
We need Vix to repair that door, I continued. Who knows who’s going to wander in here next?
As if on cue, a man stepped through the open doorframe. He was beastkin, with a large flowing mane of blond hair. The upper portion of his face looked human, with carnelian red eyes, but his nose and mouth were like those of a lion, complete with whiskers.
Aside from the dark, sharp nails on his fingers, everything else about him looked human too.
Uh-oh, Nola said.
“Things have changed in the last 62 days, 9 hours, 47 minutes, and 10 seconds,” he said.
“And you are?” I asked.
“Brion,” he said, “Nola’s head priest.”
+18
“I think you’re mistaken,” I said, stepping toward the lionkin with my spear.
He’s telling the truth, Nola said.
What?!, I asked.
He was my first try, she said. Remember when I told you that the psychic linkup could go wrong? He’s proof.
“I calculated the odds of successfully growing a congregation in this location, and they were low,” Brion said. “There were, however, no better sites upon which to begin a temple, in part because the foundations of a temple building were already present here.
“After searching 100 square parcels of land, I returned with enough food to last 1.7 weeks. Now that there are 73 humans here, a gi-ant queen, and 1 other beastkin, I see this food is insufficient.”
You know your skillmeister menu?, Nola asked.
Yes, I said. I do happen to know that. Why?
He sees numbers like that everywhere, she said.
“Apologies,” Brion said. “I rattled off 81 words without asking who you are.”
Do you speak with him telepathically?, I asked.
No, she said. We didn’t connect. Arden, I feel really bad about frying his brain. Please be nice.
“I’m Arden,” I said. I left it at that. “You’re a lionkin?”
“Accurate,” he said. “You’re a human. Not small for your race, but still two and a half inches shorter than me. Shoe size, 11. Waist, 31 inches. Penis—”
“Stop!” I said. “I get it. You missed your calling as a tailor, but go run your mental tape measure up someone else’s inseam, would you?”
“I do nothing, the numbers simply come to me. A benefit of being a head priest,” he said.
He doesn’t know he’s broken, I asked, does he?
Not in the slightest, she said. Leave me alone with him for a bit, would you? I want to try to fix him.
Is that safe?, I asked.
I appreciate your concern, but whether it’s safe or not, I need to try. I did this to him. I need to make it right. And I need you to go to Landondowns.
And leave you here with Numbers McGee?, I said. No. He’s a few beads short on his abacus. If fixing him goes wrong…
If I keep you here, instead of sending you to save Biddy, I’ll never forgive myself, she said. Landondowns was my home for my entire youth. If Biddy or my mother did something to deactivate the bastion stone, there’s a reason. Recover it if you can, before another god like Kāya does. She’ll use it to fortify a city somewhere. Or she’ll suck the delicious energy from it. Oh, I’ll be so jealous if she gets another big juicy one…
Focus please?, I asked.
Right, Nola said. We need that stone, Arden. While you were unconscious, I tried again to peer into the future. Without a bastion stone of our own, we lose. Our walls will not withstand the final battle.
And I have to go all the way to Landondowns to find one?, I asked. Why are bastion stones so hard to come by?
The Great Mother has kept a very tight grip on energem mines, Nola said, and on any charged energems. No city can install one without imperial approval, and few have received approval to install a bastion stone. She didn’t want any one city, or any one god, to have too much power or invulnerability. We’re lucky we have a mine of our own, or we’d never stand a chance.
In the very least, I need you to save Biddy. I can’t bear the thought of her ending up in a dungeon somewhere. Especially considering all the good she could do here.
Good like what?, I asked.
She bakes a mean sweet roll, Nola said.
I don’t know, I said, as much as I love sweet rolls, I have a lot to do here to make sure Halcyon succeeds. The mine… Carzl… Yurip…
Managing a city is hard work, Nola said, no one ever said it would be easy to balance everything at once.
Maybe once we improve production from the mine we can hire a Mayor, I said. Mayors seem to like the administrative stuff.
You simple, simple boy, Nola said. You have no idea how politics work, do you?
Happily nope, I said.
The administrative stuff will wait for you to return.
And Kāya?, I asked.
I don’t sense her, Nola said. Or her anibombs. We have time, Arden. Use it in Landondowns.
Fine.
“Brion,”
I said, “I’ll leave you to catch up with Nola.”
“The silence lasted two minutes and five seconds,” he said. “In another fourteen it would have become rude.”
“Apologies,” I said, walking out of the temple. “Exactly six and a half of them.”
+19
The second I stepped outside the temple, I was greeted by a crowd of mostly agitated people that all started speaking at once.
“I held them back,” Vix said, “so you’d only have to deal with one visitor at a time in your feeble state.”
“My what?” I asked.
“You know,” she said, “because of your head wound. And all of the whimpering.”
“Whimpering?”
“In your sleep.”
“Thank you for your concern,” I said. “I’m feeling mostly fine now.” Turning to the crowd I yelled, “One at a time!”
“Your culinarian is rationing!” Ess was the first to elbow her way through the crowd, likely because she had so many elbows.
“Okay,” I said, “we’ll start with you. And yes, rationing is in effect for the time being.”
“You promised me food, leader Arden,” she said. “Make good on your promise or I will eat your farmers.”
“Noted,” I said. “Next!”
“Arden, friend,” Carzl said. “I’ve taken one of your residents under my wing, a girl named Jessip. She’s a quick study with items of all types. With her help, I’d like to set up a marketplace here in Halcyon while you have adventurers on premises.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “Your proceeds are your own, untaxed. When I get back, we’ll discuss how you’ll help Halcyon and Nola. That’s the guiding principal of life here. I won’t want your money, but I will want your help.”
“Fixing your spear, perhaps?” he asked.
“That would be nice,” I said, “would it take long?”
He took the spear from me and ran his finger along the bent tip. “Yes,” he said. “Metal takes a lot longer than wood or cloth, but it’s hardly worth the effort.”
“I think you’re mistaken,” I said. “This is adventurer quality Titan steel.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Titan steel is a gimmick. It’s not even real steel. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself, What is a titan? Do you see any titans around here? No. This is an iron spear with a shiny finish. It’s sharp, and the blade is nicely serrated, but its strength is limited by its material.”