by Ryan Rimmel
“That brings us up to thirty-two troopers, partner,” stated Cole, knowing full well that I could have easily checked the Caravan menu for that information. I gave him the side-eye, and he sighed. “I’d reckon maybe eight of the recruits are worth keeping. The other four aren’t cut out for the work.”
“But we have nothing else for them to do,” I said, and Cole shrugged. The last town had spoiled me. Their pilgrims had brought what they needed with them. The new batch believed in traveling light, so light that they didn’t bring anything with them. Money or food would have just weighed them down.
We had to find something useful for them to do, though. The caravan was not a charity. I’d suggested we just leave them, but I got outvoted by everybody. Julia even gave me a horrified look for my sensible suggestion. One did not abandon pilgrims.
“So, we keep them on lookout duty,” Cole suggested. Smiling proudly, he continued walking. I tried not to roll my eyes. It was hard. We’d gathered up a few more people as we traveled toward the city of Union. None of them were remarkable in their talents or abilities.
The area we were entering marked the start of wine country, which made up the last 100 leagues of the Silverado. We’d crossed nearly twenty leagues since I’d respawned. I was acting on the somewhat hopeful assumption that the hostile adventurers had lost our trail. A long as we kept our heads low, there was simply too much traffic for them to find us now.
Julia stepped off the back of the wagon and walked over to us. Cole nodded respectfully at her and continued his patrol. She had a skip to her step, and she approached me happily. “Have you ever been to Union before?”
“No,” I replied, peeking around at the nearby farmland. Unsurprisingly, there were lots of grapes. We were almost to the top of a large hill. Union had to be close, by the look of things. That was funny on its face. If I were driving a car on Earth, I’d be minutes away. On Ordinal, even if Union were right over the hill, we’d still be walking for more than an hour to get there.
“Union is the first major city we are going to be passing,” Julia explained. “I checked with RonJared. He said we are going to stop for at least several hours, possibly all night. It depends on how his trades go. However, he assures me we will be leaving, at the latest, by mid-morning. We will be in Salvador before the Dragon’s Moon rises.”
That was the crux of the issue. I hadn’t noticed, but RonJared did quite a bit of trading. He had a massive amount of goods on his wagon. The reason I hadn’t noticed before was that he didn’t bother with the smaller stops. That’s not to say he didn’t sell some goods, but he usually did it through the crew in the shops. Union was different. RonJared was going to make a show of it, which meant we would be here a bit.
Julia and I walked companionably for the next hour, until we finally reached the top of the hill. Union stretched out before us. Thousands of people must have lived there. It was bigger than Windfall, but not by much. With my Administrator’s eye, I realized that parts of it were less developed than Windfall. There was a substantial downtown area, but the rest of the town spread out in all directions. It was attractive, in a European sort of way, but I was eager to actually get into the city.
It took another forty minutes of walking, as the city before us became thicker and thicker. Union was divided into two sections, neatly bisected by the road. The northern half was the commercial side, and the southern half was the industrial side. In Union’s case, most of the industry was wine-related. Someone had chalked in lanes, and a few traffic control people were trying to get the wagons into some semblance of order. They were having varying degrees of success, as Hubert didn’t appear to enjoy being told how to drive.
“Are you going to the temple?” Julia asked. “I checked. There is a temple to Logan here.”
“Do I need to?” I replied. I already got my Cleric of Logan badge, so to speak. The idea of wandering into a temple seemed redundant.
“Only if you want the Talent Points,” she answered coyly. “Most of the time, that’s why Clerics go on these pilgrimages. They are trying to earn more Talent Points by swearing their oaths in as many temples as they can.”
Earn Talent Points? I could swear an oath if it got me Talent Points. Logan’s oath seemed to be pretty straightforward, “I’m the best there is at what I do.” Right on the money for him.
“Wait, you can earn Talent Points by just visiting temples?” I asked, considering my other classes.
“You can earn Clerical Talent Points by visiting temples. I’m a Zealot. I’d have to give a big speech in front of a bunch of people and get them fired up for my cause,” she said.
“What is your cause?” I asked, curious.
“Depends on what time it is. Zealots are nothing if not fickle,” she replied, winking at me.
“Can other classes earn Talent Points by doing things related to their class?” I asked. “I thought you only earned talents from gaining experience.”
“Well, you could. It would take forever, though,” replied Julia, reverting to her lecture mode. “My understanding is that each class earns Talent Points for doing specific actions based on their chosen subclass. A Knight earns additional Talent Points for his armor, horse, and any actions involving those. An Assassin would gain Talent Points by assassinating people.”
“How many Talent Points can someone earn?” I asked, reviewing my Clerical talents.”
“It depends. You’ll get your first one by swearing at the first temple, then another at the third, sixth, tenth, and so on. You also have a bunch of milestone activities that you can do to earn Talent Points. However, each time you earn a Talent Point, the threshold gets much higher.”
“So, an Assassin would need to kill more people the more they level?” I asked, while my mind wandered to Talent Points. Had I been earning extra ones and not realizing it.
Julia coughed into her hand. “Actually, for an Assassin, they have to kill higher-level targets.”
I looked at her askance.
“Hey, I’m a princess. You learn about these things,” she retorted hotly. “If you ever want to hire a Mercenary army, give me a holler.”
“I already have a Mercenary army,” I muttered.
“What was that?” Julia asked, looking at me with her pretty, hazel eyes.
I coughed. “What are you planning on doing in town?”
“Dunno, I’m tapped out. I’ll probably wander around the main square. I could use some artesian WakeUpJuice or some wine, but, alas, no coin.” She looked over longingly, as various street performers began barking for customers along the highway. Several of the children ran from the caravan to watch the juggling and dancing.
“I thought you were the princess. How can you be flat broke?” I asked, turning away from a fire-breather.
“I can’t just walk into Union, head over to the Temple of Rogers, and say, ‘I’m the princess! Give me money!’ It sucks,” she pouted prettily.
“The Temple of Rogers gives out money?” I asked.
“Give is a strong word. The Clerics of Rogers are great patriots. Of course, they would do anything in their quest to help their respective nations. They have discovered that short term gifts of money are often the greatest boon they can offer,” replied Julia piously. “As such, it’s better to say that, while they will give you money, you had better be ready to give it back. It is customary to give a little extra when you do repay them.”
“That’s a loan,” I said.
“It's a gift with strings attached,” replied Julia.
“So, they are a bank?” I asked.
“Basically,” she shrugged. “Just don’t tell them that to their faces.”
“I thought they would be about Truth, Justice, and the American Way,” I said.
“The American Way? Wow, that’s an old expression,” chuckled Julia. “If you go way back, to the great war against the Dark Overlord, the Temple of Rogers was more noble. That was a thousand years ago, though, and they are a church. There have been doct
rinal schisms, ecclesiastical infighting, and real-life for them to worry about.”
“The ideals didn’t hold up?” I asked.
“Nope. The reason their temples are the biggest is that they need space for a vault,” stated Julia. “Heck, if you look at the entire pantheon, I doubt any of the gods would be recognizable from Grebthar’s day. Take the Temple of Tony. He used to be the god of iron, mining, and innovation. Now? He’s the god of Crafting Guilds. His clergy all spend their time ensuring that you use the proper recipes for any crafted item.”
“So, no improvising?” I guessed.
“If they found out about your train, you would be in deep trouble,” she stated, as we brushed the side of the road. Julia had been steering us in that direction. She reached down and plucked a small, white flower, placing it behind her ear. It made her look younger and cuter. I realized that was her intent, as she sauntered back toward me.
“We are almost properly in town. Due to those men of iron, I won’t be able to use any of my better skills to earn money. They are real sticklers about maker’s marks. Anything I tried to sell would be labeled with my name, Princess Julia Angela Claudia Carrington Ewing Gioberti Napa Ewing,” she grumbled, giving me a judgmental look. As she walked, she adopted her regal bearing for a moment, before reverting to a more mundane, commoner walk.
“I take it that would be bad,” I said. Julia gave me another affronted look.
“Of course, it would be bad! I’d be recognized right away. If I could sell things, I’d be brewing up a mass of potions. Instead, I’m completely destitute, headed into one of the best shopping cities in NoFal.”
“You seem pretty blasé about it,” I said. She realized she might have laid it on a bit thick. The princess had stopped just short of using puppy dog eyes.
“What? So, there is a civil war going on. I’ve lived through three of them, and I’m a princess. It's not like I’m in any real danger.”
“You are a target, though,” I said.
“Yup, if I’m recognized, I’m going to be stuffed into a bag and dumped back into a lodge somewhere. If that happens, you aren’t going to get what you need,” she said.
We walked for a bit longer in silence. Finally, I asked, “What do you actually need for the summoning?”
She glanced around, frowning for a moment. Deciding we were out of earshot, she responded, “A summoning circle of at least the seventh tier. The larger the circle, the easier the summoning. The seventh tier is the lowest I can go.”
“Is there a circle like that in Union?” I asked.
“Nope,” she grinned, eyeing me. “I think there is a ruin to the north. My father once ordered a demon-worshipping cult out of it. I believe it contains the closest summoning circle.
“Should we go off and look for it?” I asked.
“Go searching for the ruined temple alone, or travel one more day in relative comfort to get to the summoning circle in the Grand Cathedral? Gee, that’s a tough choice. Relax. We have plenty of time to make it before the Dragon’s Moon. Besides, it’s faster to travel by wagon than by foot.”
“You are sure you can summon him, right?” I asked seriously. Shart had vouched for Julia, and she did seem confident. Still, I needed to look her in the eye, those bottomless hazel eyes.
“I’m a princess of the royal line. Of course, I can,” she said confidently, before muttering something that even I missed. My Insight check came back positive, again, so I had to go with it.
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry I asked. I still find it interesting that a princess knows Demon Lore.”
“There are many paths to Zealotry,” she grinned. “I just had to grind it out in my father’s library. What did you expect, that I would be off singing while little birds flew around me?”
“Kind of,” I replied.
“Foul things! They shit everywhere. Not every princess can sing very well, either,” she said.
“Doesn’t that take all the romanticism out of those stories?” I chuckled.
“Sorry, I’m not about to fall for some destitute adventurer who rescues me,” she said, fluttering her eyes at me. Snorting, she added, “I’m holding out for a king. Maybe, if I get lucky, I’ll someday rule my own kingdom.”
“Why not lead your own army in the civil war?” I asked.
“I got outmaneuvered right off the bat,” stated Julia flatly. “When I was dumped in the lodge, my aunt and uncle absorbed my forces. I don’t have an army left. Don’t worry. In a few years, something will come up. I’ll rise and conquer everything.”
“Aren’t you worried that, after you are queen, someone will rise and kill you?” I asked.
“That’s not supposed to happen,” she stated, before frowning. “That’s what I don’t understand about this whole war. I could see my uncle dethroning my father, but killing him? That just isn’t done. You win, you exile the new losers, and you un-exile the old losers.”
“How long have you actually been a princess?” I asked.
“Daddy won his first civil war when I was five. Until then, I was best friends with the previous princess, but she was exiled with the old king,” stated Julia, matter-of-factly. “When I was about twelve, the old king came back. He tried to dethrone my father and failed. I was captured early on in the fighting. I spent the entire war in the Eastern Palace. When my father won, I was freed. That was about thirteen years ago. Those wars were fun, this one, not so much.”
The mischievous look in her eyes had faded, replaced with something resembling bleak sadness. We walked silently a few more paces, before the princess sighed. She turned away from the city and headed back to the wagon. She didn’t need to be miserable and poor in the only decent-sized city we’d encountered.
I struck a pouch on my side, causing it to rattle distinctively. It was the sound of stones clinking together. Julia turned back toward me with a questioning look.
“I suppose I might be willing to help a princess out,” I said with a shrug.
Julia grinned back. “Well, I’m broke. I hope you won’t take advantage of my current state. Perhaps you could see it in your heart to give this poor princess some funds? I could repay you in the future.”
“You’ll pay me back Tuesday for a hamburger today?” I chuckled. She slapped my arm.
“Geeze,” she said, turning her head to look at me, “I can’t get a read on you. Half the time, you act like a yokel from the sticks; the other half, you are quoting the Ancients.”
“I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.”
Chapter 25 - Union
Maggie Starvos sat, impatiently watching the road. She would have hired someone to do this for her, but, unfortunately, she had the misfortune of having one of the highest Perception stats in the party. Also, Hardragon was a hardass. Twinkle had a higher skill, she thought, but arguing with the elf was no fun.
“O’Really,” she muttered. She was positive it was a fake name. It sounded like an easterner name, but how often did you meet one of them in this part of the world? No, she was more inclined to believe what Su-Kar had told her. He had to be some sort of disguised Chosen. That gave Maggie the advantage, though. She knew how to kill Chosen.
Still, Maggie allowed for the possibility, however unlikely, that he was a Remort. Phillip was a gruff bully, but he tended to know his targets. That was why Maggie was dressed the way she was. A performer collecting coins on the side of the road could hide in plain sight. It was easier than hiding in alleys. She wore a tight, black and white checkered hood that covered her head, hiding her pink hair. The rest of her outfit was colored similarly and pulled tightly over her body. With her stature, the body suit made her look much younger. She didn’t need to expend Stamina to modify her form.
Presently, she had six balls in the air. The gathered children were giggling, as she expertly juggled the yellow orbs. Her record was fifteen, but this wasn’t the kind of performance where she wanted to draw attention. Six objects placed her at Journeyman level. Journeyman Jugglers we
re a copper a dozen.
The next wagon passed her. She strained to look at everyone while juggling. There were more people present than she would have liked. If they were smart, both targets would have hidden inside the wagons. However, Maggie doubted it. Royals loved to show off, and Chosen all thought they were immortal.
That was her favorite part of killing Chosen. They thought nothing could harm them, as long as they could meet the danger on their feet. She had learned how to creep up on them, taking them from behind. She had a talent that let her see the light leaving their eyes. It was a delight to watch them perish. She couldn’t wait to get her current Chosen.
If she’d had her way, she would have killed the princess, too, to complete the set. The boss had issued strict orders, though. When the boss laid down the law, one did not upset her.
When Maggie spotted the two of them together, she rolled her eyes. That was too damn obvious. Her target was sort of smart. O’Really had gone with a nondescript outfit. Maggie normally wouldn’t have looked twice at him. She considered what would have happened, had he simply slipped past her. She shuddered. Best not to mention that in my report.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Maggie recognized the princess. For a few steps, Julia had slipped into a posture and gait entirely abnormal outside the noble houses, and Maggie was intimately familiar with Julia’s body. Once the princess had been identified, O’Really stuck out like a sore thumb. That was a shame. Because of three steps worth of inattention, Julia was going to get them both killed. The fates could be cruel.
Maggie considered that, while sending a message over to Hardragon.
Chapter 26 - Temples
“Are you sure that was a temple?” I asked, after a quick stop at the Temple of Rogers. It had been an odd experience. I’d ‘lent’ a patriot of Rogers several gemstones. Then, he ‘lent’ me some gold coins that were, more or less, of equal value to the stones. It seemed, at least to me, that he had bought the rocks, but Julia merely chuckled at my suggestion.