by Ryan Rimmel
“He’s a Cleric,” she said with emphasis. “He’d have to have a Union merchant's license to buy things. He fully expects you to come back and reclaim your stones. If you don’t, he’ll have to come up with another means of recouping the church’s money.”
I shook my head. That seemed too much like Earth and some of the bizarre laws we had there. The whole market was rather unusual. We were in the temple district, but Tony nominally functioned as the god of commerce. Pretty much every space between the temples was filled with bustling market stalls. Clerics of Tony were evident. They wore full suits of armor and carried large smith’s hammers at their sides.
Not everyone was shopping, though. There were performers of various stripes, priests spreading the good word, and a guy on a soapbox. The latter was holding a banner and screaming at the top of his lungs. I recognized his type instantly.
“The duke will ensure defense. His mighty army will protect us from the war in the Riverlands. A strong army makes for a prosperous state,” yelled out one supporter. He was wearing purple, showing his allegiance to the duke.
“Hardly! The duke is too busy hiding in his castle. The duchess will support us through trade and negotiations. A strong economy makes a strong army,” yelled another man. He was wearing nothing but green.
I listened to them screaming at each other for five minutes, as I stood in line to enter the Temple of Logan. It wasn’t that there was a long line. It just seemed that everyone was moving very slowly. Julia was bored. Having taken half my coin, she seemed more than ready to go shopping.
“Another dress?” I asked, thinking about her previous experience.
“Maybe, but something functional,” she said, glancing down at her current garb. She was wearing a nicer peasant dress than most of the women in Union. However, it was far below the quality of the merchants in the city. “Really, I need to pick up a laundry list of materials for other things.”
“Crafting?” I asked. Any time people needed large amounts of weird stuff, it was always for crafting. I’d discovered that crafting made a great cover.
“Yes, crafting,” she agreed flatly, winking at me. This time, crafting meant summoning.
“Well, I don’t want to lose track of you,” I said, throwing her a party invite.
She blinked at me a few times. “In town?”
“Yes, a town is where we got attacked last time we separated,” I replied. Julia accepted the invite and quickly vanished into the crowd. I caught sight of a hawk-faced man cutting down an alley between two of the more distant temples. He looked like an adventurer, so I made a note of him.
There were a great number of temples here. In Windfall, we had one cathedral. It would be a very nice cathedral, once I got around to repairing it. It would get done, eventually. No one had complained about its lack of functionality yet, so I hadn’t deemed it a high priority. Union certainly had far more people in it than Windfall, with no fewer than nine significant temples and a dozen shrines.
Logan, my god, had a temple here. It was not one of the fancier ones. The Temple of Rogers was a massive, four-story affair. Gold stars ran up and down the columns. It was built like an American-style bank. There were large red, white, and blue banners hung at strategic points, making me a bit homesick.
By contrast, Logan’s two-story temple was yellow and black. There was a decent-sized garden surrounding it, though it appeared to want to do its own thing. Logan’s temple looked positively rustic compared to all the others. I was waiting in line with petitioners, because barging ahead wasn’t encouraged here.
“So, finally going to be an honest Cleric,” stated Shart.
“I’ve been in line for twenty minutes now,” I grumbled. “I should have bought those juggling balls. At least that would be something to do.”
“That would be fun, listening to you skyrocket your Juggling skill in front of this crowd of people,” stated the demon.
“Aside from the font in this temple, have you found any others?” I asked.
“All the temples, of course,” replied Shart. “Good luck getting into them. There are a few subsurface fonts we could go after next.”
“The city is built on ruins?” I asked, before shaking my head. “Dumb question. Of course, the city is built on ruins.”
“Oh, well done, Dum Dum! You’re learning to recognize how stupid you sound. I’m so proud,” Shart replied. He continued, before I had time to form a suitable retort. “After you leave the temple, you can buy some gear and dive in.”
I nodded. While I didn’t necessarily want to go searching for a fight or delve deeply into ruins, sometimes that was the only choice.
Finally, I reached the head of the line. It ended at a wooden gate, where people spoke to an Acolyte. The Acolyte then took them, one by one, into the temple. Some came out the back and left, while others went to work in the garden. Their tasks mostly involved trying to tame the curly weeds that grew outside the garden’s borders.
“I’m here to make a vow to Logan,” I said. It still felt wrong, but I decided to move on with it.
“Where are you from?” asked the bored-looking Acolyte.
“Angwin,” I replied. It was the closest main town.
He looked up at me and read my name tag. “Are you sure? You look like an easterner.” I was about to complain that I looked just about normal considering how much of a mish-mosh the town’s population was. Then, I realized he was talking about my name tag.
“Sure, let's go with that, then,” I said.
He looked back down at his papers. “Your vow, petitioner or Acolyte?”
“Neither,” I answered consideringly. “I need to make a Clerical vow.”
That got a reaction. The man’s eyes shot back up, as he really looked at me for the first time. “You are a Cleric? Of Logan?”
“Yes, level 7,” I responded.
“I do apologize! It's just that we don’t see many Clerics. I’m so very sorry,” he said, rushing to fling open the front gate and let me onto the grounds. I stepped inside, and the wooden gate slammed shut behind me. The young Acolyte hurried past me, leaving the other partitioners standing. I expected them to be upset, but no one seemed the least bit concerned. In fact, they were all looking at me expectantly.
“Shart, what the feck?” I asked.
“Hm? What has your loincloth in a bunch this time?” the demon asked.
“Why are they so impressed that I’m a Cleric of Logan?” I continued, falling in step behind the Acolyte.
“Well, Clerics are uncommon in the first place. I doubt that there are many, if any, Clerics of Logan in Falcon,” stated Shart. I could swear I heard clicking in the distance. “And you are going to make a vow at the altar. That will empower it significantly. That means their vows will be more successful.”
Mystical Lore supplied me with the knowledge that a vow made at a temple allowed someone to pledge their faith in exchange for a small boon. Depending on the strength of your vow, that boon could be pretty potent. The people out gardening were making more powerful vows. Logan would, in turn, empower them more significantly than if they had just spoken the words at the altar.
When I made a vow as a Cleric, I was promising to spread the faith. That strengthened Logan’s hold in Union and made any boons he granted stronger for everyone. Of course, the people waiting in line wanted me to go first. Heck, I probably could have cut to the front of the line without anyone complaining.
We crossed over a stone path and entered the temple. The Acolyte told me to wait, while he vanished further into the structure. The inside looked more like a Canadian log cabin than any church I had ever been in. While I waited, I walked around, looking at the iconography.
The Badgerine was a short, stout man with crazy hair and strange claws. Logan was carved into almost everything covering three of the temple's four walls. The other wall had been reserved for another figure. Pictures of Badgelor covered every inch of that wall.
“Hey, Badgelor, by the way, I�
��m a Cleric of Logan now,” I shot over to Badgelor.
There was a long pause. I’d pretty much given up on getting a response, when Badgelor fired back, “Only god worth worshipping. He knows what’s up!”
“A church that worships badgers is your favorite? How unexpected,” I chuckled.
“Hey, it's not my fault they are the only church that gets it right,” stated Badgelor.
Finally, an older looking Acolyte stepped from a back room, the younger Acolyte in tow. Both men walked over to me. The older man seemed to squint, before his eyes turned bright blue.
“My associate says you claim to be a Cleric,” he stated without preamble.
“Yes, level 7,” I replied.
“Hmm,” stated the older Acolyte. He walked over to the altar in the middle of the room, never ceasing his examination of me. After what seemed like forever, he finally spoke, “You claim to be a Cleric, yet I cannot detect any class levels.”
The younger Acolyte deflated at these words. I remembered that, with my Amulet and Shadow Walker perk, it was enormously hard to get a read on me. That, coupled with the rather severe power differential between adventurers and professionals, meant that him not seeing my levels indicated to him that I didn’t have any.
The older Acolyte let his spell extinguish and began to turn around. The younger Acolyte walked over to me to escort me from the building. I wasn’t going to get to make my vow, and I really needed those Talent Points.
I cast Heightened Senses, my own eyes flaring blue. “I think you might need to try harder.”
The younger Acolyte's hands flew off me, and he stepped back like my body was on fire. The older Acolyte spun around at my words, only to see my glowing eyes. He paused, his mouth opening and closing. Words refused to come to him for a long moment.
“If you are a Cleric, you can perform your vow at the altar,” he said finally, stepping aside to allow me access.
I walked a few steps forward, eyeing both men. They balled their fists and crossed them over their chests. Emulating them, I wondered why we were doing the Wakanda salute, until I remembered who we worshipped.
“What the hell am I supposed to do here?” I asked Shart and Badgelor.
“Don’t you have the Religion skill?” replied Badgelor sleepily.
I did have the Religion skill. I just hated using it. Mystical Lore I could handle, because it was dumping new stuff into my head. The Religion skill tended to augment my already existent religious knowledge. Stuff I had learned in Sunday School and remembered since I was a child was suddenly merged with information about the Badgerine. Both seemed equally real to me. As I stood there, thinking about Logan, it hit me.
Of Course.
“Snikt, Snikt,” I said, moving both my arms out to my sides, fists forward. Then, I made several slashing motions with my fists, until I had advanced to the altar.
“I’m the best at what I do,” I said, catching the older man out of the corner of my eye. He seemed disappointed. I delved deeper into my Religion skill. “Bub.”
Suddenly, the altar flared to life.
● You have activated the temple of the Badgerine! Due to this temple not seeing a Cleric in over 100 years, its spiritual power has weakened. By reactivating the Temple, you will strengthen all boons granted by the temple! You gain 1 Talent Point.
● You have made a vow at a Temple. You gain 1 Talent Point.
‘Well, that’s great,’ I thought, looking around. Both Acolytes were ecstatic, having been thoroughly convinced I really was a Cleric of Logan.
“Is this you keeping a low profile?” asked Shart.
“Yes,” I replied. “How many Clerics of Logan are there?”
“Three,” replied Shart.
“Including me, or am I a fourth?”
“Including you.”
“Well, that explains it then. They must not visit this part of Falcon often,” I said.
“I don’t mean three in Falcon, Dum Dum. I mean three on Ordinal. One isn’t even on this continent, and the other is giving me some strange error,” stated Shart.
“How the hell can you check that when you can’t even see if adventurers are chasing us?” I grumbled.
“The Clerics are on a list,” replied Shart. I groaned. That was a database query issue. Some information was right in front of you. Other stuff, you had to dig to find.
“Well, I think I’m going to mosey on out. These Acolytes are seriously creeping me out,” I said to Shart.
“Hold up, Dum Dum,” said the demon. “Let me work my magic here. It’s time to do that Maximum Level increase.” Damn. I had hoped Shart had already done that.
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
“Just focus on the altar. You’ll get a prompt,” replied Shart.
● Would you like to Attune the Altar? This will make you this temple’s Cleric.
“What does being the temple Cleric entail?” I asked.
“Not much. Shut up. You just need to bless the temple every decade or so. Aside from that, you get a small stipend. The Acolytes will be very polite to you when you stroll by, assuming you don’t overstay your welcome. Remember, Clerics and fish stink after three days”
“Aren’t we draining it of power?” I asked.
“Tank is almost empty, Bub,” stated Shart. “You’ll give it more power, blessing it when we finish. Then, I can draw out of it. Think of this as a proof-of-concept level increase.”
“Great, those always go well,” I replied, selecting “Yes.” The results were not spectacular. I did get a new tab on my Cleric page. The Temple of Logan did not have many adherents in Union. There was only one dues-paying member of the church, and he was a new follower. Fortunately, he was wealthy and seemed interested in the herbs in the garden. His donations had allowed the temple to hire a second Acolyte.
● Max Level has been increased. Your max Level is now 60.1
“Well, that’s anti-climatic,” I said.
“Shut up, you twat! I’m trying. I just broke the
“What can someone do with .1 levels?” I asked.
“I don’t know! I’ve never seen that. Does “broken system” mean something different on Earth? We will just have to find out together. I’m sure it will be interesting and not at all problematic,” replied Shart. “Let’s go get geared up and check the other magical fonts in town.”
That sounded reasonable. I finished blessing the altar and turned to leave. Both Acolytes were beaming at me. I gestured toward the altar. The older Acolyte ran over and practically jumped for joy at the new symbols running across it. He had the look of someone who was just a touch crazy. The other Acolyte wasn’t much better.
I determined it was time to sneak out of the building and tried to move out of sight. Unfortunately, trying to sneak away from a pair of men with Heightened Senses was probably beyond my capabilities. Fortunately, someone’s teenage kid had walked in and was headed toward the altar.
I expected the Acolytes to toss him out, but both kowtowed to him almost instantly. I paused. The boy’s face was incredibly pretty, but, upon reflection, I wasn’t sure if it was a he or a she. The unknown person had an exceptionally well-proportioned face. They were wearing a headband with an unrecognizable symbol on it, along with some plain, though finely crafted, robes. Their hair was in an elaborate series of braids that would have taken forever to get just right.
With the Acolytes suitably distracted, I stepped out of the Temple of Logan and back into the market square.
***
Julia adjusted her hat carefully and watched O’Really leave the temple. She couldn’t recall any Clerics to Logan, so he was probably having a grand old time in there. She quickly checked and verified that her Disguise skill was functioning correctly, still gaining Skill Points.
The notion of using Disguise to blend in had never occurred to her, so this was great fun. She usually went as Angela, if she disguised herself
. However, certain people in Union would have recognized that persona and reported her. Instead, she had simply bundled herself up and was using Disguise to appear as unremarkable as possible. If someone walked right up to her, they could, of course, read her name tag. Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice her.
The elf entering the temple had been impressive. Julia hadn’t seen many elves, and he was quite handsome. At least, the elf was a he at the moment. She recognized the hair. If she’d had more time to look, she could have identified his tribe. Unfortunately, the elf had quickly vanished into the temple. Shortly afterward, O’Really stepped out.
A pang of jealousy flashed through her mind, as Julia lamented the elves' magical ability to manipulate their hair. With a thought, they could get it into whatever elaborate style they wanted. The entire race took ruthless advantage of that ability. The last time Julia had sat with an elven diplomat, her hair had taken hours to arrange. The elf had seen it and thought it cute. Within seconds, she had copied Julia’s look. Then, to rub salt in the wound, she had made her hair even more elaborate than the princess’s.
Then again, if Julia could manipulate her looks with just a thought, she would have done the same thing. She would have done the exact same thing and smirked while she did it, just like the elf.
Getting back to her target, she was dismayed to see how much distance O’Really had covered in such a short period. He was very competent, it seemed, and she would have to be more wary. She’d heard tales of Remorts, not that anyone had met one in generations. It was scary to consider how many skills he possessed, though. He might even have a fused skill or two. She had to get his cooperation, one way or another.
She did feel slightly terrible. Deep down, Julia knew lying to O’Really like this was wrong. Her Cause wasn’t becoming the queen of Falcon, like she’d implied. She was going to have to be careful. Besides, it wasn’t like he was being honest with her. Not O’Really was a terrible fake name. Since he had lied to her, she was justified in lying straight back to him.