by Charles Dean
The downside to the Little Ethans grabbing food bite by bite was that they were actually chewing it. It wasn’t intentional, but they had to bite off pieces and swallow small bits at a time. Eventually, the two mice, now shaped like tiny little balloons, made their way back to him. They were able to sneak past the guards and extend their paws through the grate that made up the door to where Lee was waiting, ready to take the contents of their hollowed-out clay stomachs into his inventory. He positioned himself next to the door and then leaned back against it so that no one could see what he was doing.
“Eager to go back out?” Dave asked as he saw Lee move from the chair at the table to leaning against the door and mistook his action. “Feeling cramped in here too? It’s okay. You’ll get used to it. You’d be surprised. I was restless too at first, but you can get used to anything given enough time.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Lee answered, and then he began to lie. “But I have to pray. This bread”--Lee tossed the small piece over to Pelham--“just isn’t going to cut it. After hearing you all reminisce about my past adventures, I want more.”
“And you think praying is going to get it for you?” Dave asked, scoffing. “I’ve been praying every day since I got here. Not because I’m religious and not to any particular god since I never had one before to begin with, but just ‘cause I got nothing else to do. You showing up is the first new event that one of us has seen in a month--other than the occasional fight, of course.”
“Yeah, I’m going to agree with Old Whistle-Fart. If it ain’t the starvation that kills us, it’ll be the boredom,” Pelham added as he happily ate the bread he had been given. “Hours and hours of boredom. We exchanged tales at first, but you run out of those after a while too. Thanks for this, by the way, but don’t expect me to ever have enough to return the favor.”
“Hmm . . . So, you prayed to no god and got nothing in return? That sounds about right,” Lee said, stretching out the conversation and setting up his next bet in the process. “That means the reason you don’t believe in one is that you have never gotten anything from one? That also sounds fair if not a bit circular.”
Dave nodded, “Yeah, you could sum it up like that. That and, you know, having to watch the family I took care of my entire life have the father brutally murdered before my eyes and the son arrested and sent off to prison where he rots in the dungeon based on ludicrous charges as we speak.”
“Hmm . . .” Lee sorted through the items in his inventory that the rodents had given him. Not enough time had passed for him to produce a feast, but he was able to actually make a good meal for himself and one other person. He gauged the room for a minute, scratching the non-existent beard on his chin as he contemplated a way to help them out and earn himself some faith in the process. “Well, what if I make you a deal, Dave?”
“A deal?” Dave looked at him skeptically. “Don’t tell me you’re actually one of those religious types? Why does this subject always require bartering?”
“Oh, I might be a religious type, but I’m also a man of logic. I understand exactly where you’re coming from. Why believe in something if there is no proof? Blind faith, the idea of belief without evidence, is just silly. I agree. But, fortunately . . . I have evidence with me.” Lee’s statement evoked a groan from almost everyone in the room to groan. Knight Captain Pelham even shook his head in disappointment as if Lee had gone from just a silly greenhorn everyone could poke fun at to the awkward religious nut preaching in the corner in less than a second.
Dave rubbed his forehead and knitted his brow as he looked over at Lee. “Kid, you really need to stop joking around. Just give up on this praying thing and try to get some rest. There’s no telling when one of us will be called again.”
“So, you’re not even going to hear my bet out? Give me a little benefit of the doubt!” Lee put on the best hurt and offended expression he could muster, seeing that just trying to get some basic consent in the conversation was going to be an incredibly-uphill battle. “Alright then, that’s fine,” he said, maintaining his feigned indignation while secretly applying his cooking skill. Unlike the slime-to-alcohol conversion and turning sand into weapons, this basic form of crafting was done with little to no effort. Cooking didn’t seem to eat a noticeable amount of mana. Lee was able to make batch after batch of fried chicken with the cooking skill and not feel the slightest bit drained, but one glass sword and a shield had left him with nearly no spirit leftover. Focusing his mana, he transformed the first set of ingredients: some pieces of chicken and herbs that the rodents had snatched and place into his inventory, creating spiced chicken nuggets.
He pulled the crispy bits of flavorful meat out into the real world and held them out in his right hand. “It’s a real shame then because I can’t give you anything if you can’t give me something in return. Your logic is solid. After all, why would you believe in something you have no proof of? You need something to give something right? I’m the same.” Lee popped some of the fried chicken nuggets into his mouth, making sure to pause between bites.
Their jaws hit the floor, and they stared at him wide-eyed and in shock. These people knew better than anyone what an ordeal it was to be brought into the jail. Like Lee, they had been searched and had everything stripped from them when they were arrested and lost everything on them to the confiscation racket that the guards were running. There was no way they would have been able to slip in food undetected, and there was no way that Lee should have been able to do it now.
“What?” Lee asked, feigning surprise as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. This was the exact reaction that he had been hoping for. “Do I have something on my face?” Like someone fishing for a compliment or an apology, he was going to force them to spell out exactly what he wanted.
“You know exactly what!” Pelham bellowed in disbelief. “Where in the world did you get those? How did you get them past the guards?
“I don’t know . . .” Lee paused long enough to take another bite of some fried chicken. He was hungry, and a measly handful of bread wouldn’t cut it. The fried chicken nuggets were exactly what he needed, hitting the spot and giving him some much-needed comfort food in the middle of what promised to be a dark road to a much more awful future. The only regret he had was that there wasn’t any hot sauce, barbecue sauce, honey mustard or something great to dip them in. “Do you really think the guards wouldn’t check my inventory? They tried to rob me last night, but I just prayed to Augustus, and here they are. Delicious, savory nuggets of goodness.”
“Come on. Don’t be like that. Tell us how you got it,” Pelham urged. The savory aroma of the juicy golden morsels was already permeating the cell. “And share some with me too.”
“Yeah! You have to get us some of that,” Dave echoed. “I haven’t eaten a real meal in so long I’d kill for some good . . . whatever that is. It really smells delicious.”
“Well, then you have to pray for it,” Lee said. “Pray to Augustus sincerely, believe he is here, and I’ll give some food to you as well.” The reason he didn’t just tell them to convert and wait for the Faith stat increase was because he needed time for the two golems to actually scrounge up more food. On the off-chance every single person honestly converted, he wouldn’t have enough for everyone.
“Stop playing games,” Pelham demanded. “Just give me some food, boy. I’m starving. Can’t you give your seniors in both occupation and age a little respect and deliver up something good for me?”
“Yeah, just give us some food,” Dave pestered. “I haven’t eaten in so long. Don’t hold out on me.”
“Forget you two.” One of the guys laying down, a member of the earlier batch of men that had mocked Lee, stood up and started speaking. “If I have to convert, so be it. Just give me anything to eat. Just feed me. Look, Augustus, I promise to stop imagining doing dirty things with Guard Captain Delilah if you just give me some damn food.”
Your actions and deeds have successfully converted 1 person to your religio
n. Faith has increased by 1. Current Faith: 671.
I think Augustus would prefer if you were more lecherous, not less. Lee had to contain a chuckle as he remembered the interactions he had had so far with Augustus about the subject of sex. I’m pretty sure Augustus might even give me an instant miracle of choice in the other world if I bent the guard captain over for him to watch. His dirty old man powers are far greater than those of any wanton, libidinous geezer I’ve met so far.
Lee, both amused at the promise and not expecting to win these prisoners over to be so easy, did his best to keep a straight face as he used his cooking skills and then opened his hands to produce fried vegetable tempura. “Augustus tells me your faith is real, so here you go. Have at it.”
Not seeming to care that it wasn’t the same chicken nuggets Lee had eaten earlier, the man dashed over to the door and grabbed the food, scarfing it down with abandon. “Thank you! Thank you!”
Lee felt wrong about trying to hold a prisoner to such an absurd and random promise. “But . . . he says not to bother keeping that promise. He doesn’t care what you do on your own time. Just keep believing in him.” Lee really wished he had some copies of the Book of Lee on him as he watched the man happily return to the wall with the four handfuls of food that he had been given. He didn’t need another case of someone aggressively interpreting the religion however he wanted, whenever he wanted, and the book would have provided a sound foundation between right and wrong.
“Good call,” Augustus said, his voice suddenly sounding off in Lee’s head. “There is no way I’m going to bother with a small fry to ever check up on that promise anyway.”
You jerk! Those are your Faith points. Be somewhat considerate, Lee mentally grumbled at Augustus. Anyway, one down, a few more to go.
“Kid, stop holding out and give me the food. If you have some for him, you have some for me too.” Pelham stood up this time and took a step forward. Lee couldn’t tell from his expression alone if he was going to attack and try to forcibly take food from him, but his posture and glare both hinted at that being a real possibility.
“It’s not my food to give. You have to pray first. If Augustus agrees, he’ll send food. Then you can have some.” Lee took another load of random bits of food from a golem that had once more made it to the door.
Due to the sneaky activity of your golems, your mastery of Sneak has progressed from the rank of Novice Level 9 to the rank of Novice Level 10. This skill improves one’s ability to stay hidden, move silently and act undetected.
Due to improving Sneak, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 138.
“You aren’t pulling my leg here, are you, kid?” Pelham asked. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”
“Go ahead and try. What do you have to lose? Sincerely pray and believe, and I’ll give you food,” Lee insisted, motioning with his hands to do so. “Give it a go.”
“Fine.” Pelham, looking skeptically at Lee, closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this, but uhh . . . Augustus, give me some damn food already.”
Your actions and deeds have successfully converted 1 person to your religion. Faith has increased by 1. Current Faith: 672.
What kind of weird conversion was that? Lee hadn’t expected it to work. There was no way he could have anticipated that an angry ex-soldier who was stuck in a prison with such a poor attitude would convert. Lee knew that the man had to really believe for a sincere faith-generating conversion to occur. How desperate for food is he?
Doing his best to time the food generation to coincide with the prayer, Lee started piling up as many of the tiny, little, nut-like, popcorn-shaped crunchy kernels as he could. “See? That easy,” Lee said as he stood and extended his hands. “Welcome to the fold, brother.”
“Me too!” Dave, whose mouth had yet to close, finally said enthusiastically. “I need food too, Augustus!” he shouted and stepped forward.
Unfortunately for Dave, no faith notification popped up for the old man. He was likely much more set in his beliefs than a single conversation could change, and as such, Lee didn’t know what to do. Give him some food for trying and pressure him more? Lee debated in his head.
Before he got a chance to get the answer, a knock came on the door and a guard’s gruff voice came from the other side. “Dust yourself off, boy. You’re needed on the sands again. And don’t try any funny business on your way out.”
Why not? There is no way there are archers on both sides of the hallway . . . If I have to start planning a breakout, this is actually probably the best time to do it, he decided. He used one of the golems, who was currently returning with food, to verify his assumption. Yup, barely any guards here. I’ll just have to be quiet about the killings when it’s time.
“Hey, give me some food before you leave,” Dave insisted after hearing the guards. “I need to eat too.”
“But your faith wasn’t sincere.” Lee shrugged as he stood up and brushed himself off. “Who knows though? I’m feeling generous.” Lee sighed and pulled out some of the remaining popcorn-like nuts from the pile he had given to Pelham and passed them over to Dave. “Have at it. Hopefully, I’ll be back later, and you can pray for more.”
“Wait, that’s not right. I prayed. How come they got more?” Dave griped as the door opened and two of the guards appeared.
“What are you all excited about?” the guard asked as he opened the door, but then his eyes saw Dave and Pelham both standing there with handfuls of food. “And where did you get that? Which one of you beady-eyed cledor rats stole food and brought it in here?!” the guard demanded.
“It wasn’t stolen! We prayed and received,” the first convert said as he stuffed his face with all the food he had left on him, likely fearing that the guard might take it away from him now that he had seen it.
“That’s right!” Pelham nodded and then mimicked the man’s actions and stuffed his face too.
Dave, while not as quick as Pelham, followed suit as well. The three of them now looked like chipmunks with their cheeks stretched out to hold in the grub while they chewed.
“What in the--? I need an explanation! Now! Did you do this?” the guard said, turning to Lee. “You gonna be a troublemaker here, you filthy rat, or you gonna tell me where you got the food from, boy?”
“I’d love to, but you wouldn’t believe me if I did, so can we skip the lecture and just move straight to the fight? I’m feeling the need to flex a bit for the over-eager, bloodthirsty Firbolgs who can’t get enough of my beautiful self.” Lee’s words were cocky, but it was really just because at this point, his frustration with the Firbolgs’ rude and inconsiderate manner had reached a breaking point after hearing the backstory of the town.
“It’s a miracle . . . just like what they said he did on the sands . . .” The second guard muttered in a voice that was barely loud enough for Lee to hear.
“Quiet, you,” the first guard demanded, reprimanding his comrade. “I swear, Oran, you need to stop listening to what idiots tell you. You really think he can perform miracles? Drink a Glubinsa? You ever heard of anyone drinking a Glubinsa like it was booze?”
“What?” Pelham said through a mouthful of food. Drinking the Glubinsa was one of the boasts Lee had offhandedly mentioned earlier to pile on to the ridiculousness of the supposed lies he was telling. He never recounted the feat as if it were something that actually happened. “He really . . .”
“Like I told you, I drank the Glubinsa and then murdered the mighty Silinus the Slayer without a weapon. You can ask them if you don’t believe me,” Lee said as he stood outside the door, waiting for his escort.
“Yeah, but he cheated. It was a cheat!” the guard blurted out, confirming the story. The Firbolg was still venting his frustration as he shut the door behind him, leaving the room full of prisoners to their thoughts.
Lee was looking at the guards in a new light by the time they reached the arena. Part of his brain had written off their behavior earlier as just people treating
him poorly because they thought he actually was guilty. He had imagined that their rude, indifferent behavior was because they hated criminals or were just humongous jerks. Now that he knew the nature of the political and social situation in the town, all the ‘cledor rat,’ ‘your type,’ and ‘filthy human’ comments started to make sense--and he couldn’t help but loathe them for it all. He didn’t even want to exchange words with them.
“Hey, did you give this punk food when you brought him over?” the guard who had escorted him back asked. “Haven’t we told you not to feed the prisoners?”
“I didn’t give him a thing,” the racist loudmouth retorted. “Why would I give him anything?”
“Well, if you didn’t, somebody did. We caught him sharing food with other prisoners, and they weren’t the normal scraps of bread that we allow their kind every now and then. It was a full meal, and it smelled better than anything any woman has ever made me, my own mother included. Now, because of whoever let this rat get his hands on that food, we are going to have to starve out that group for twice as long. Three of them were scheduled for fights this week, and we don't have anyone who will fit the captain's description. Half of those disgusting Humans are fat and happy thanks to your incompetence.”
“I am telling you: I didn't give him any food! Why would I give that filthy Human anything? I want him to suffer just as much as you do. He embarrassed the hell out of me earlier!”
“Don't play dumb. Everyone heard you talking to the prisoner on the sands this morning. If you weren’t trying to help him out, then what the heck were you telling him? You're not seriously friends with this long-faced rat, are you?”