by Ryan Rimmel
Of course, the higher tier talents required more Talent Points to acquire. Combat Regeneration costs five Talent Points by itself. Everything past that, including Renew II, needed more than one.
“Did you expect them to all only cost one point?” asked Shart.
“I suppose not,” I considered. Combat Regeneration would be massively useful as a spell. Naturally, it required me to expend more Talent Points. “I’m surprised that more people don’t just save their talents and buy Combat Regeneration as soon as they can.”
Shart said nothing for a long moment. I got the distinct impression he was counting to ten. “Dum Dum, do you think you can buy Combat Regeneration at level 1?”
“Oh,” I replied dumbly. “What level do you normally have to be?”
“Without your UnBound trait, you would have to be level 55 to purchase that particular spell upgrade,” replied Shart.
“So, I should definitely save up to buy it,” I said.
“Indubitably,” replied the demon.
None of the other paths looked that attractive, so I invested two Talent Points into my Domain. I was now the proud owner of Renew II.
Next, I tried to figure out what to do with my Clerical perks. I was looking as deeply into the trees as I possibly could. I found an option quickly enough. Resist Disease was an entry-tier perk, but higher up in the perk tree was Disease Immunity. While I’d never been sick on Ordinal, assurance that I never would be was nice.
I broke out of my menus right around the same time I finished my blocks. Several bored children had gathered around me and were building a castle.
“We are bored, O’Really,” said one of the kids. His name was Nick, as was another one of the boys.
“I thought you couldn’t have duplicate names,” I grumbled to Shart.
“They don’t. There are seven Nicks in my trackable area. Each one has a unique name. They just stick on a few different middle names in Falcon,” replied Shart. I looked at Nick again. His name expanded greatly, until it was longer than he was. Julia got off lightly, with only five names.
“I’m going to make some toys,” I said.
“These blocks are fun,” said one of the girls. I glanced around. The four kids that had been there earlier had multiplied to nine. My carefully hoarded blocks took the form of a castle, a dollhouse, and something else resembling a ‘pile.’
“What do I need to do to get those blocks back?” I asked.
“Tell us a story,” one of the girls said.
Well, that was easy enough. With us traveling forward with few interruptions, I had time to tell quite a few stories. It was only a question of which one. Remembering Dragonheart, I said, “I’m going to tell you the story of a farm boy named Luke!”
“And his friend Han,” yelled one of the boys. Suddenly, all my blocks were being piled at my feet.
“And the princess,” giggled one of the girls, “Who was the best shot!” She dared anyone to challenge her. No one did.
“You’ve heard it before?” I asked.
“Yeah, lots of times.”
“Well, I’m going to tell it a bit differently,” I continued.
Chapter 22 - Meeting of the Dark
Hardragon watched the sun slowly begin to set. He wondered, not for the first time, how his life had turned out this way. He stared at the message Phillip had sent him, his piercing blue eyes hoping to find some more detail on his quarry.
“I’m bored,” said a cheery, almost childlike voice. Hardragon glanced up at Maggie. She was still in place, not yet bored enough to engage in her favorite pastime. He’d already lost one team member to her. He was not eager to see what damage she could do to him if he wasn’t wary enough.
“See here, if they followed the road, they will be here tonight or tomorrow,” stated the elf. His odd, nasally accent had a way of grinding Hardragon’s gears. Grebthar himself had declared the elven accent that of a 1920’s radio announcer, but Hardragon had never been able to figure out what that meant. Still, Hardragon was happy that the Elvish Monk was there. He could be trusted and would, hopefully, keep Maggie at bay.
Maggie looked particularly mischievous today, which was beyond dangerous. She was a short, lithe woman, whose stature conveyed nothing regarding her deadliness. Her short haircut highlighted her bright pink hair, giving her a feminine innocence. It was all part of the act. Rumors swirled that Maggie had developed her love of murder with her own mother, who had been found, in pieces, around a children’s park one sunny day. Maggie had only been six years old.
When the woman caught him looking, she grinned. Suddenly, she was his young, beautiful wife, her eyes twinkling merrily.
She poofed back to normal, as his hand went to his sword. He would have told her to stop insulting the dead, but it would have only encouraged her. Maggie was exceptionally skilled in one task and far more used to solo work. Despite occasionally being called in for group missions, she had never learned to play well with others. She was his problem for today and the boss’s problem the next. Assuming everything goes according to plan.
“So, do you think this O’Really fellow is going to be too much trouble?” asked the elf.
“Oh, Twinkle, I’m sure I can handle him,” grinned Maggie. She didn’t shift forms toward the elf. They were old and their natures were complex. If she’d decided to change into one of his former lovers, she might have been any number of equally attractive elvish women or men, or someone of a different species altogether. The act of transforming into a non-humanoid shape was uncomfortable for her.
Hardragon eyed Twinkle closely. No elf ever born had a name that was anything other than silly to human ears. No human had ever insulted an elf’s name and not lived to regret it. Twinkle was a Monk, a rare class in Falcon. There was a certain poetry in how Monks moved that needed to be seen to be believed, and it was on full display now.
‘Because he doesn’t trust Maggie either.
As an elf, Twinkle had the lean, almost childlike look of their race. When he was not ready for battle, the elf looked like a very well-mannered teenager. With Maggie in the room, his precise movements had the air of a stalking predator, ready for battle. Despite working with the elf for several missions now, Hardragon still didn’t know if Twinkle was a boy or a girl. Gender did not concern elves. Thankfully, Twinkle had indicated on his own that he responded to male pronouns. Perhaps it was just because Phillip had asked Twinkle if he was a male first. For some unknown reason, Twinkle found Phillip fascinating. It had been fortunate, because elven clothing, mannerisms, and culture didn’t give Hardragon any sort of idea.
Hardragon got the impression that gender was something elves viewed as amusing, rather than something they considered critical to their self-identity.
The fact that the boss had an elf summoned to Falcon was enough to make Hardragon concerned. He didn’t know what was going through her mind, but calling in a favor to get an elf out here seemed extreme. Despite being a Monk, Twinkle was still a Mercenary, with all that that implied. There was always the chance that someone had a larger purse or, more likely, a specific item that would tickle the elf’s fancy.
They had already finished the first part of the job. Whatever the boss was concerned over caused Twinkle to remain. Hardragon looked back over to Maggie, who was just short of hopping up and down. She was radiating uneasy anxiousness, waiting for her next target. She didn’t look like what you’d expect a Kingslayer to look.
Maggie grinned back at him, but the smile never reached her eyes. Those eyes were always a predator's eyes, cold and calculating.
He was terrified of that smile, and she knew it.
Chapter 23 - Story Time
“That was different,” said one of the children, after I’d finished giving them new hope. Unfortunately, the story didn’t translate well without spaceships, and the magic fortress I’d been using for the Death Star fell flat. They left the blocks, though, and slunk away in search of other amusements.
“It wasn�
�t that bad,” I said grumpily.
“Oh, you think it wasn’t that bad? You are truly adorable,” smiled Julia, as she plopped down across from me. “I always thought the Legend of Luke was kind of like pizza; you could never have a bad version of it. You, dear Cleric of Logan, have proved me wrong.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, Grebthar had told the story generations ago. Of course, they adapted it to work on Ordinal. I was saying something akin to the original version he must have told, and the people on Ordinal had a millennia to make it better. I thought the problem was that I was describing a movie, and they had turned it into a book. The book was always better. To do a book audibly, you needed a great narrator. It would take someone trained at Julliard to turn my rambling nonsense story into something people would enjoy listening to.
“Can you do any better?” I asked.
“Sure,” she replied, going over to where the kids had wandered. The children recognized her look instantly. They fell silent, waiting for Julia to begin. “Let me tell you all a very old story about heroes, villains, and the great war!”
“A story about Grebthar,” yelled many of the children in unison, making space for Julia to sit.
“Remember, these are in the very old style. You will have to pay close attention,” she said confidently. The children vigorously nodded in reply. “Which story shall I tell?”
“Season 2, Episode 14,” yelled two of the loudest children in unison. Julia smiled and settled in more. I checked with Shart.
“Season 2?” I asked.
“It's Falcon. Everything is a season and episode to them,” stated Shart. I blinked several times at that. What?
“This week’s episode is The Great Battle for Wind and Windfall,” she began.
Close up on Grebthar’s face. We hold on Grebthar for a long time, while scores of troops move behind him. Badgelor is sitting on Grebthar’s shoulder, looking wise. Grebthar starts to speak in hushed tones to the man beside him.
Grebthar:
Tomen, the armies of the Dark Overlord approach us.
Tomen:
As it is said in Falcon, “As long as there is Wind beneath my Wings, there is Hope.”
The shot pans out, circling Grebthar. The massive hordes of the Dark Overlord’s army march toward a massive wall. The shot turns slowly, ending on a furious Badgelor. Quick cut to Tomen, barrel-chested Master Paladin
Tomen:
Do not worry, dear Grebthar. You have been called, and Falcon stands at the Mayor’s back.
Grebthar:
Mayor, not king, eh? I have a militia and an untested wall. This place is barely a kingdom. I have yet to even name my town. I am unsure how you think I can stop the Dark Overlord.
Tomen:
You are Grebthar, mayor of your lands and king of the Falcon. Your wall stands against the Divine Wind of the Dark Lord. You have forged your militia into a mighty army, an army whose very name will strike terror to the forces of evil! The lands behind us will remain forever yours, Mayor. The Dark Overlord will not kill the Hope this day.
Grebthar:
I’ll never take you for granite, dear Tomen. Are you saying I should be boulder during my presentations? I’d make a joke about you standing there like a statue, but it isn’t the monument for levity.
Turning to face the gathered army, Grebthar has transformed. His indecision has vanished. Badgelor stands on Grebthar’s shoulder and roars a mighty War Badger cry. The Dashing Dandies look up to see their commanding officer in all his glory. Grebthar begins to speak.
Grebthar:
The Dark Overlord comes with his army to destroy all that we hold dear. He brings the might from the four corners of the world to scour this battlefield in his Divine Wind. He thinks that we are afraid. He thinks that we are terrified of what he brings, and who he is.
WE ARE NOT!
Have your spears ready, men. I’ll need them soon! This battle will be where the Wind Falls!
“Wait just one fucking minute,” I said to Shart, as Julia continued telling the story. It was rapidly devolving into a desperate series of engagements around what I recognized must be the Western Gate Fortress. “For Wind and Windfall is a thing I made up. I just pulled it out of my ass.”
“Seriously?” replied Shart. “You must have heard of it somewhere. It’s a long story, but Grebthar built a huge wall to stop the Dark Overlord’s army, the Divine Wind. After the battle, they named the valley Windfall Valley.”
“What was it called before?” I asked.
“Rotting Eggs Valley,” stated Badgelor. “There were huge sulfur patches in the northeastern part of the valley. Charles didn’t want his city to be known as Eggtown, though.”
“And the Dashing Dandies were a real thing,” I groaned. I remembered all the pushback I got for trying to rename the unit. Everyone looked at me like I was killing their kids whenever I suggested anything different. Now, I knew why.
“Yup. I’m actually surprised the big stupid one had heard of them,” said Shart. “Then again, it’s a popular story, and one that’s very old. He’s probably told Wind and Windfall to his wards more than a few times.”
“Dashing Dandies just doesn’t sound all that threatening,” I said finally.
“The name is a millennium old,” replied Badgelor. “They were super threatening, back in their day. The Dashing Dandies were a well-equipped, fast response force of elite soldiers. Just the name was usually enough to rally the forces of good for one more engagement against the Dark Overlord. You know, I fought in those battles.”
“That story makes it sound like you were a puppet,” I said. “Were you always that fond of shoulders?”
“Something to do with the Special Effects budget,” stated Badgelor. “In the old stories of Falcon, they always tried to limit large creatures on screen. Dunno why, but Charles explained Special Effects to one of the earlier Bards. It just took off from there.”
“Wait is Bard a class?” I asked, I didn’t recall seeing it in the Chamber of Souls.
“A dead one,” replied Shart as he gestured towards Julia.
“We’ll talk about this later,” I said, as Julia wrapped up her story. The children were already discussing which episode to listen to next. Putting that out of my mind, I looked up at Julia. She had a smug, happy smile. The children were super satisfied with her story and thought mine was hot garbage.
Julia stood up and walked over to me. Before she could say, “I told you so,” I handed her a train. She looked at it for a moment. “That’s kind of dirty, even for you.”
“What? It’s a train,” I said, examining the toy. My hands went through the automatic motions of crafting another one.
“Trains by Jim,” stated Julia, flashing the maker’s mark at me. “You are going to have the kiddies convinced that Jim the Curious Puppy made this toy himself. That’s kind of despicable.”
“Maybe I know a man named Jim,” I grumbled, checking my crafting interface. My name was listed as Jim, with O’Really marked as an alias. I had been making those trains with Badgelor, long before becoming a Remort. The maker’s mark setting was left on Jim; thus, all the trains I had produced would be listed as Trains by Jim. I briefly considered the problems that could have caused on Badger’s Night but decided it wouldn’t have been a big deal. It would be like finding your toys made by Snoopy rather than Santa. Any competent parent could explain that away in moments.
She snorted. “Who would name their son Jim? I mean, I guess it's on the approved list of names, but I have never seen anyone name their kid that.”
“Approved list of names?” I asked.
“Yes, there is a list of names that anyone from our kingdom can use. Some get reserved for the nobility, of course, but everyone else has several names from the list,” replied Julia. “Some are banned, for example Cumsom was the name of the original ruling house and they got eliminated 822 years back in Season 178, the Fall of the Tyrant!”
“I would have figured it would have been Channi
ng,” I said.
Julia pondered that for a moment, “They might still be a regional house in SoFal.”
“Southern Falcon?” I asked, “The country is mostly east and west.”
“Economically, it is easier to divide the country north and south,” said Julia, “Grapes grow best in NoFal.”
“So, Angela is super-common as a first name in Falcon?” I asked, imagining it was like the name Sarah on Earth. Or Jim.
“A tenth of the female population in any city you enter is going to be named Angela,” replied Julia, dangling her feet over the edge of the wagon.
“Well, at least you are unique,” I quipped.
“Oh, yeah, there sure haven’t been any Julias in the royal line before,” she grinned.
“You don’t seem very royal for a princess,” I said, as I finished another train and set it aside.
“Do I need to be royal?” Julia replied. She glanced around, before taking a seat in front of me. Her pleasant, playful nature vanished. “The First Order of Business is to be mindful of what we are doing. We need to ensure that we acquire proper resources for the remainder of our mission. You will protect me during this operation on the threat of painful exile, as well as the stain upon your eternal honor.”
“I take it back,” I said, as her eyes bored into mine. She hadn’t used mind control magic this time. She’d just used the tone of someone who fully expected that everything she said was going to go down exactly as she wanted. I knew bosses, and that was ball buster talk right there. Her ability to turn it on and off was a little scary, though.
Julia grinned at me again. “Don’t worry. I’ll eventually figure out what to do with you.”
Chapter 24 - Recruitment
● Caravan: Rank 2
● Vehicles: Grand Caravanner’s Wagon, Enchanter’s Wagon (2/2)
● Population: 78
“How many recruits is that?” I asked, as Cole and I strolled near the caravan. Strolling sounded better than marching for miles, which was what we were actually doing. There was a difference between hiking not bothering me physically, and hiking being super insanely dull. By the fourth hour, I would have preferred to listen to a concert of nails on a chalkboard, in b flat.