The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

Attributes

  Strength: 34

  Agility: 15

  Dexterity: 17

  Constitution: 23

  Wisdom: 13

  Intelligence: 13

  Charisma: 17

  Luck: 27

  Unassigned points: 0

  34 seemed high. But how high? I’d never really put it to the test, beyond pulling up an anvil. Plus, I was supremely curious how Mister Paul’s Powerful Build boon applied to me, and the world. This was a chance to see where my limits were. And I kind of wanted to know.

  I set my axe in my wagon and walked over to the empty harness. How could I get the leather straps made for horses match up with a lowly human? I tried settling the big collar around my neck, and I leaned into it.

  The weight was immense. At first. But once I got my legs down and really pushed, the wheels creaked, and the wagon moved.

  I heard shouts all around me, and everyone stared. I didn’t care. I had something to do, something to test myself against, and that was everything I wanted at the moment.

  It took virtually everything I had to pull the wagon, which was great, because it meant there was nothing left for my brain. Finally, there was quiet in my head. I didn’t think about home, I didn’t think about people I missed, people I’d wronged, people I’d loved. I just pulled a big fucking wagon.

  My stamina bar dropped precipitously, but I kept going. This was my challenge. My legs burned. My heart screamed at me. Blood pumped around my body, and it felt like I was on fire. I gulped air in like I was drowning, but I kept going. I could barely see where I was going. There must’ve been people who helped guide me along, because I made some turns.

  And then, there was someone standing in front of me, gently pushing me back.

  “Time to stop,” came a soft voice.

  I nodded, dropping to my knees, taking in breaths in ragged gulps. True exhaustion washed over me. I thought, maybe, I might just keel over and die. I did the keeling part, and a wave of darkness crashed over me.

  Chapter 28

  I woke up to someone poking me.

  Cleeve stood above me with a sharpened stick.

  “You need to eat,” he said.

  I mumbled something in return, and he lashed out, snapping the stick against my shoulder.

  “UP,” he barked.

  My body started acting before I did. I shook off the cobwebs, stood up, and stumble-walked from the road where I’d fallen to the fire where Cleeve guided me into a seated position on a stump. Teela pushed a bowl of stew in to my hands.

  I drank it down.

  Immediately, my bowl was refilled.

  The second helping took a moment or two more. As soon as it was done, I felt a real warmth in my stomach, and things didn’t seem so bad. I handed the bowl back and stretched, letting out some sort of godawful roar as I pulled my screaming muscles apart. My body just wanted to remain still and small, and I knew that was the worst possible thing I could do after strenuous exercise.

  The whole caravan stared at me.

  With a little wave, I awkwardly slipped out of the circle of firelight, over to the outside of the wagons, where I grabbed my axe and started my guard duty.

  The sun had slipped below the horizon, but it wasn’t quite dark. It was that magical twilight sort of time where the sky was a brilliant, almost iridescent, purple, and the stars were only starting to twinkle far to the east. Back in the river lands, I’d spent this time watching the murmurations of birds, but here, the trees blocked most everything. If there even were starlings above these forests.

  I did a bit of stretching, rolling my shoulders, jumping up and down. I knew I’d be in pain tomorrow, regardless of my regenerative ability.

  There were footsteps coming from around the wagon. I turned to watch Cleeve come around and lean against the wagon in front of me.

  “Few questions come up about you,” he said, pulling out a pipe from a pouch.

  I leaned on the axe, and smiled back. “You’re welcome to ask,” I said, “I’ll answer what I can.”

  “You want to tell me who you actually are?”

  “I have.”

  He pushed something into the bowl of the pipe, used a small piece of metal to somehow light the pipe, and puffed a moment before blowing a cloud of blue smoke into the sky.

  “Kid,” he said, “the oddities in this world are beyond counting, and I have seen well more than my fair share. But this marks the first time to see a man fight like you did, take wounds dire enough to destroy armor and leave you covered in blood, and then pull a fully loaded wagon that normally needs two draft horses for over half a day.”

  “I guess I’m special.”

  “But what are you?”

  “Just a human.”

  “Human,” he muttered, but there was much left unsaid there. He clearly knew I was hiding something.

  “Look man,” I countered, “I’m just a dude trying to find a better life here in the Empire, okay?”

  “Are you now,” he said flatly.

  “I am.”

  “And you come from?”

  “Like, over the mountains.”

  “Which mountains.”

  “The ones above Arenberg.”

  “Oh, the Wind Spires.”

  “Exactly.”

  “There is no mountain range called the Wind Spires.”

  “Well, we called them the Wind Spires.”

  “No, you did not,” Cleeve said with authority. “Here, between the two of us speaking as free-thinking sentients, let us be honest, let us tell no lies.”

  I took a deep breath and met his eyes.

  “No lies?”

  “None.”

  “I come from another world,” I said. I started to add like Lee, but I didn’t want to out the man.

  Cleeve nodded. “You are wise to keep that quiet. There are many who would see your kind exposed and exploited.”

  “Not you?”

  “Not me.”

  “So there’s the truth. I’m from Detroit. Earth.”

  “And now you are here.”

  “Now I’m here, trying to figure this bizarre world out.”

  “I have heard there are some differences.”

  “Tons. You know how there are character sheets here?”

  “Yes,” he said with a slight nod, blowing smoke rings into the sky.

  “Does everyone?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “Isn’t that, I mean, weird to you?”

  “’Tis how it has been from time immemorial.”

  “No one asks why?”

  “I am sure there are many who ask why. Philosophers ask all sorts of stupid questions. Why does it matter why? For men like us, or at least like me, there is no time to ponder the why of the world. This is the way of it. Find the best way to work within the system of the universe. Or, spend your time asking the universe why. For me, it only matters what I do with it. What we do with it. Time spent pondering is time spent not doing. And I would rather do than think.”

  “I guess, I mean, can I ask about your character sheet? Is that, like, secret? Rude? I don’t know. But I do know I have these boons. I think that’s the reason I was able to pull that wagon. And why I can heal. And speak all sorts of languages. And maybe do other things. I mean, what skills do you have? And, like, what the hell are Indicium?”

  “You do have many questions.” Cleeve pulled off his jacket and bared his left arm. He closed his eyes, and a mark appeared across his shoulder: a bird of prey encircled by a wreath and a word. It disappeared before I could actually read it. “That it is an Indicium. This one means I was a member of the Imperial Legion. As far as character sheet, I am not sure there is a way to show you. Not unless you are wizard, and know the specific spell revealing those details. But, should you be a caster of magic, we have a whole new problem to deal with.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “About that.”

  “Are you—”

  “Why is magic outlawed?”

  �
��Beyond the emperor decreeing it such?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the early days of the Empire, there were problems with certain magic users. Three hundred years ago, the Empire was nearly overrun by a group of wizards who wanted to rule Vuldranni.”

  “So, it’s like, totally illegal?”

  “No. Those with the talent for magic and the will to engage with the mystic arts are simply required to be part of the Imperium. There are not as many as you might think. The will to use magic is much greater than those with the ability to do so. Some choose to fight with the Legion. Most are dispersed unto the countryside and work with farmers to ensure the Empire eats. And some—”

  “Heal?”

  “Healing magic is much more rare. More common is for a cleric to provide the means. Or an alchemist. Cole is one such alchemist. He makes potions for us, and for trade. He was once a healer.”

  “Why’d he stop?”

  “That is a question you must get him to answer.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  Cleeve smiled, and blew another smoke ring out. “Yes, that might be a story that disappears with the man. But magicians, those are the men and women responsible for more nightmares in this world than anything else. This is why the Empire puts limits upon them, to make sure they are working for the good of the Empire instead of the end of the Empire.”

  I scratched my cheek, and then ran my hand down my beard, giving it a tug and getting a few snarls out of it. I needed some oil.

  “Can you tell me how to earn experience points?” I asked.

  “Quests. Above all, quests will give you the most XP. They give the most points and offer the greatest chance for other benefits. Most believe the path to greatness lies in killing, for you do receive points for each creature you slaughter, but that is ultimately a fool’s errand. The common folk, they often do not rise far in levels, only receiving what points they may through leveling skills or the few career-specific quests they encounter. But if you sit in a tavern any night, you will hear them complaining that if they just had skill with a blade, they too would be challenging kings and emperors.”

  “Where do quests come from?”

  “Philosophically?”

  “I’m looking more for the practical, but I’d take the philosophical I guess.”

  “The answer to both questions is the gods. They give the quests, they run the world. But if you keep your eyes and ears open, you will see quests appear. And, from what legend says, if a god decides to stand behind you, you will find quests just appearing everywhere.”

  “Is there, like, a job board in towns or something?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Will those be quests?”

  “Sometimes. More often, they are just jobs.”

  “What about skills? You mentioned something about leveling up by leveling up skills.”

  “I did,” Cleeve said. “While this holds true for most skills, there are some that are different. You receive a measure of experience points when you reach each new level in the hierarchy of skills. Level one: green. Level 10: novice. At that point you get some XP.”

  “How many levels are in the, what, hierarchy?”

  “Eight.”

  “Naturally. I’ve noticed eight seems to pop up a lot here.”

  “’Tis true. Green is one through nine; Novice, 10 through 24; Apprentice, 25 to 49; Journeyman, 50 to 79; Professional, 80 to 94; Specialist, 95 to 99; Master, 100 to 199; and ultimately Grandmaster, which is 200 and above.”

  “Grandmaster is the top?””

  “As far as I know. Finding a Grandmaster is rare. Exceedingly so. I have encountered but one.”

  “What is the highest you know of?”

  “There is a baker in the capital, has been making bread for nearing two hundred years, and he has a level of 202 in baking. Day in, day out, he’s making bread. These days, for the emperor and his family, save one day a week when he sells it in the market. Magical stuff. Legend tells of a swordswoman across the ocean and under realm who is nearing 300 in swords. Has never lost a duel, never lost a battle. But that ’tis but in legend. Perhaps when she reaches 300, we will see if the gods have another level for us. At present, it tops at at Grandmaster. And, at each new level, you receive more XP than before. So, despite never killing anyone, the baker is quite high-level.”

  My brain was starting to feel heavy with all the information Cleeve was dumping in it, so I decided it was time to change the topic. Besides, I was starting to get really tired, and I was worried about staying up for guard duty.

  “Totally different topic, but have you seen the Emerald Sea before?” I asked.

  “Once. I have thought often of returning. It is truly a wonder. As long as we are here under the badge of honesty, ’tis one reason I am selling my medallion there.”

  “Medallion?” I asked.

  He pointed to a small metal shield riveted on the side of his wagon. “Certifies I am part of the Caravaners’ Guild. Gives me access to cities, countries. Even some of the most dangerous cities on the planet are still willing to receive Guild caravans.”

  “You can go anywhere?”

  “Usually. Times of war might make things more problematic. But mostly, everyone leaves the guild alone. Otherwise the guild might leave them alone. Despite almighty power, one cannot march an army on an empty stomach. At some point, you will need a caravan. And without the Guild, you will likely not find one.”

  “But you can sell the medallions?”

  “In a manner. Legally they remain property of the Guild. Should you wish to sell yours, you must go through the Guild. They hold an auction, and the Guild will pay you all but five percent of the auction price. Allows the Guild to keep control of their ranks.”

  “Seems complicated.”

  “Bureaucracy often is. And the Empire is nothing if not a massive bureaucracy.”

  “There’s a lot about this world I just don’t understand,” I said.

  “If you have questions, ask,” he replied. “I cannot guarantee I have the answers, but I will try.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” I asked.

  “You think you can pull the wagon again tomorrow?” he asked with a wink.

  I rolled my shoulders and jumped on the balls of my feet, trying to feel what my legs were willing to offer on the morrow. I wouldn’t say I felt good, but there was some give.

  “Probably,” I said.

  “You realize you are saving us with this, right?” he asked.

  “Just doing what needs doing,” I said.

  He smiled a little, rueful. “We appreciate it. I appreciate it. Now get some sleep. You don’t have to guard tonight.”

  Cleeve took a long pull from his pipe, and settled against the wagon. I nodded, and found my bedroll already laid out under a wagon. I was asleep as soon as I laid down, without even realizing how tired I’d become.

  Chapter 29

  Morning arrived with a real surprise and kick in the teeth. It felt like the sun was in my eyes just moments after they were closed. Even the act of raising my hand to block the sun sent burning pain all around. My muscles were angry, and they were letting me know. I could barely move.

  In both jest and kindness, someone had placed food next to me… in a feedbag.

  Everyone else was awake, breaking down camp and going through the morning routine before travel, which meant I’d been allowed to sleep in. Which, you know, was nice. Considering.

  I ate the dried meats and fruits and stood. Going slow. Very slow. I did some soft stretching, clenching my teeth together to swallow the screams of pain. It was interesting, because my HP was full, but the pain was still there. All new and fascinating stuff to figure out in this game world. So many things didn’t make sense based on what I expected from reality.

  I knew I needed to stop thinking about things in Earth terms. I had to look at my new world, see how it played as a game, see how things lined up. It was a challenge, but i
f this really was a game, I had to keep up the grind. And I needed to see if there was some way I could tweak the system in my favor.

  Lee sat atop his wagon, jingling the harness in my direction.

  “Giddy up, buttercup,” he said with a giant smile across his face.

  I winked as I slipped into the harness.

  “Neigh, motherfucker,” I replied.

  We weren’t quite ready to go; camp supplies were still being loaded into other wagons. I leaned against the harness, letting it hold me up, feeling the tug on my shoulders.

  “I gotta ask,” Lee started, “how do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Pull this thing.”

  “Just have the right strength score, I guess.”

  “How high is it?”

  “Uh, hold on,” I pulled my attributes up, and, as I did, I got some notifications.

  Congratulations! Due to hard work, you’ve gained +9 STR!

  Congratulations! Due to hard work, you’ve gained +12 CON!

  I frowned a bit. Something seemed off with the numbers. I guessed there was a chance the gods who built the game never factored in a human pulling a loaded wagon all day, but it just seemed, well, high.

  Attributes

  Strength: 43

  Agility: 15

  Dexterity: 17

  Constitution: 35

  Wisdom: 13

  Intelligence: 13

  Charisma: 17

  Luck: 27

  Unassigned points: 0

  “Well, now my strength is, uh, 43,” I said.

  “Sweet Mary,” Lee replied softly.

  I was about to tell him about my boon, but I figured, maybe telling him about the strength was enough for the moment. I liked the guy, but I hardly knew him. It probably wasn’t wise to give away all my secrets.

  “What’s yours?” I asked.

  “Eleven.”

  “Oh. I’m not sure what’s normal.”

  “Quick tip, hoss,” Lee said, “that ain’t normal.”

  “Eleven or 43?”