True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic.

Pre-Fall Athlete.

With the Artifacts collected, and the shadows already lengthening, the six decided to make camp in the ruin where the boots had been found. The building was in reasonable condition overall, and with walls and roof, they could enjoy an almost cozy retreat. The stairs were still there, and sturdy. The first floor of the Ancient house was almost entirely intact, save for the fact that it had naked unpainted plaster over the walls, and long grooves that looked like something had been ripped out of the walls, leaving Johanna to wonder what had been there. Why it had been removed? By whom?

Was that before or after the Changestorm moved it here?

That floor had four bedrooms. One was slightly larger, probably the owners, with three for children, maybe. The mattresses were long rotted, and the frames had fallen, but you had individual bedrooms, and small windows, with shutters that were still looking sturdy. Johanna tugged at the wood, gauging its state. The house itself looked overall much better preserved than its content, and that made tents unnecessary.

They made dinner in what had been the kitchen. Without the need to hide her Talents, she simply used her flame to cook the whole stuff, bypassing the need to gather wood from the ruin.

“That looks handy,” Mark commented.

“The first time I used it, it was to burn a Canid’s maw from inside. But yeah, these days, it’s mostly about lighting stuff without a lighter, or cooking things. I even have to be careful, because it is very, very hot.”

“You can’t control the heat?”

Johanna considered the question.

“I’ve never been able to. Not really, it’s always as hot as it can be, I think. And after my fire… attunement?… increased last year, it’s been even hotter. I just play with the edge of the flame to diffuse the heat.”

Mark frowned, but Johanna didn’t explain further. She’d mentioned to Petra that her powers had increased abruptly from the Skeleton’s actions – surely, she did, didn’t she? – but she didn’t have to explain everything to their escort.

“And once we’re back in the wild, you’ll see her in action cutting and searing meat at the same time. Best cook since the Ancients,” Peter added.

“Peter!” she said.

Laura was trying to smother a laugh, while both Mark and Petra looked confused. People hearing about Sorcerers expected one or maybe two Talents, not five.

“Tom? Can you hit the small guy for me?”

“Doesn’t work anymore. Dodges too easily,” her husband replied.

She threw him an aggravated look.

“So, what’s the program now?” Mark asked.

“We’ve got all the Artifacts that were around. With the sight, that’s a guarantee. There might be very minor ones that can’t be seen from afar, but I doubt it. Now, we just go into all the houses, and see what can be interesting and sold, stuff our bags, and done.”

“Oh, and look for any Ancient books we can find,” she added for his benefit.

“Ancient Books?”

“Yes. That’s probably one of the most valuable items we’re looking for at the moment.”

“There’s a big market for that?”

“Well, they’re collector items, but that’s different. Anything sells if you have the right buyer. For this, all things that are prestigious should be a priority. Things like intact ancient clothes, even booze.”

“Ancient spirits? I imagine that would probably be expensive.”

“You wouldn’t even imagine how much Timothy would charge you,” Petra laughed.

That night, in the upper room with a shared sleeping bag with Tom, she dreamed of Artifacts. There was a table, and piles of random items strewn all over, with the Skeleton throwing blue lightning and shuffling the things whenever she reached for one.

Despite that, the dream lacked the clarity and focus that the vision had. Not really a Dream, just a dream, she realized when she woke up, lines of dawn’s light projected across the wall from the slats.

She still had to call out to Laura to come down for breakfast, since Peter seemed to have already gone out, scouting the ruins stealthily to make sure no Canid or other beast prowled the Ancient village.

“They fit?” she asked, pointing to the Artifact boots.

They’d already agreed that, given the nigh-indestructible nature of Artifacts, the team’s healer would use them as added protection.

“A bit loose, but I have thick socks. It might be a bit too much in summer, though.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“You’re looking awesome.”

“That much?”

“It’s the mana swirl. You look like a ghostly apparition, trailing mana from hands and feet.”

“Ah,” Laura smiled. “I just need trousers and a jacket. And some hat instead of that blind helmet.”

“That Wendigo had Artifact glasses. Although they’re probably too small to provide protection.”

“Are there Artifact handkerchiefs? Using one with a bandana…”

Johanna had to laugh.

“Even with Artifact solidity, it might not be enough. They’re extremely durable, not indestructible.”

The breakfast went fast, as Peter had popped out of nowhere in front of a bowl of gruel.

“So, bag filling,” Mark said.

“Yes. Anything that looks unusual, better made than modern stuff, or simply collectible. Petra, Mark, if you’re unsure, just ask. I don’t know what will sell best, but we can guess what’s likely.”

The house where they’d found the Artifact boots was a treasure trove. They did find a cupboard with obvious liquor. For a wonder, it had labels, and those labels included recognizable English words and names alongside the weird accented ones. The glass bottles had a bovine silhouette painted on them.

“Vodka. I think I remember that spirit’s name,” she said, eyeing the greenish fluid with what looked like a stalk of plant in it.

There were three bottles, all pristine as if they’d been stored a few months ago, although one was half empty. Just under the bottles, decayed ancient containers betrayed the age of the ruin. The stopper was metallic, and the opened one turned easily. She sniffed and noted that the spirit barely smelt of anything, save very strong alcohol.

40%, she read on the label. No wonder.

They packed the Ancient boots sets and some other articles of clothing. The cellar was disappointing, full of water, and impossible to access. Still, a couple of hours had them filling half of their backpacks with the most intact pieces, although some cupboards were empty as if the owners had taken everything out.

“If that keeps up, we’ll be able to head back to Zahl in time for your patrol, Mark.”

“Is it always that good?”

“No. But that’s what I hoped to find. Untouched ruins, preserved by mana.”

The church was empty. It looked small, yet bigger than the small building they had in Anasta. She had no idea how many Ancients had lived around, the proportions and disposition of the village ruin too different from anything she was used to.

Then Johanna spotted the shelf to the side of the church.

And the dozens of small booklets in it.

Up close, she noticed that many seemed heavily damaged, paper curled and broken. But there were lots of what could only be hymnals. Would these work?

There was no reason not to. They were Ancient books, after all. She hesitated briefly, as these were in a church. But the words of the pastor, back in Valetta, came back. Respect the Ancients themselves, but they were gone, and their possessions belonged to the living.

She fished one of the booklets, opening it, before closing it in disgust. The ink had smeared all over the pages, which had holes in them.

“Found something?” Tom called, before spotting the hymnals. “Oh.”

“Not too good, but maybe there’s something,” she answered, picking another, better-looking, hymnal.

“Something?” Mark’s voice asked.

She turned toward him, hymnal in hand… and blue lights started playing from inside the hand, spreading out before swirling over the book.

Finally, Moore thought, as the interface played out.

Then he winced mentally because the booklets were thin. He should have expected that, given the size and where they came from. The hundred-plus pages of hymnal were barely enough for him to work through. Fifty pages were needed just for the Settings Scroll base, after all.

But at least, Polish, or whatever the language of the transposed village was, worked, and the interface for scrolls popped up on intact books.

He remembered the last time he’d peeked at Mark Kunst’s descriptor. And between what he’d seen of him in action, and the stats he remembered, there was no question of what their newest recruit was going to be.

“What are you using?” Mark asked.

Johanna realized he must have assumed she was doing some kind of “normal” sorcery, for some unfathomable reason. As soon as her fingers came unglued from the transformed book, she let it drop and grabbed the parchment of power that had formed as it fluttered down.

She frowned because it looked different from what she’d expected. This time, it was delimiting three equal sections. Level, once again, Ranger, and SteadyShot. Nothing that suggested a personal quality.

Mark bent and took the book she’d dropped, turning it.

“What did you do to that book? It looks like something ripped out everything. There’s just a blank page left.”

“It was used to make this. This… parchment of power.”

Then Johanna realized what it was for and held the parchment to Mark. He looked at the weird paper and deep blue ink, frowning at the odd lettering.

“Take it.”

“Okay… WHAT?”

The guardsman looked at the lights that now followed the drawings on the square paper.

“It’s for you,” she said, unnecessarily as the parchment flash-burned already.

Mark had opened his fingers, but nothing was left. He looked at them, wondering.

“Congratulations… Hero.”

“I’m no hero, just a guard… but the way you say it…”

“Hero, capital-H, yes. You’re one now.”

She looked pointedly at his hand, where the transformed paper had been an instant before.

“We call these… parchments of power. They do that. They grant you Talents and some… I’m going to say, boost in Talent. You now have something called a Steady Shot. And I’m guessing, but Ranger should be the definition of your Hero type. At least, the two fit together.”

“But you made this? You mean you don’t know?”

“It’s complicated.”

“But that’s how they gave me those new powers, Mark. It does work,” Petra said from where she’d contemplated the scene.

He turned to her, and she shrugged before laughing, “Welcome to the weird. Wait until they give you the next.”

“The next?”

He turned to see Johanna picking another booklet, and more lights springing around the Ancient hymnal.

Johanna caught the parchment, which looked odd. Level and Piercing. She squinted at the square, while Mark looked at her, slightly confused.

“Problem?” he asked.

“No. I’m just trying to figure out what…”

Okay, is the level like strength or the rest of the qualities? Now, I am confused.

She handed Mark the parchment hesitantly, but still lit again under his touch. He looked at her, and she nodded before the parchment vanished in disappearing ashes.

“Next,” Johanna announced, as the next book poured lines of blue light.

Fast Aim. Another archery-sounding Talent, and nothing odd.

Mark was waiting for her to hand him the square, while she squinted at the newest parchment.

Despite the odd formula, the parchment did light up as Mark grabbed it, and he accepted it.

The next one was familiar. Gauge Endurance.

“We’ve seen that one, right?” she asked the rest.

“Yes. The Guardian back in Rocastle’s demesnes received it. It means that… Rangers can have that Talent too?” Laura pondered.

“Looks like,” she said.

Mark unsurprisingly, could accept the power. He then shuddered, eyes bulging.

“Yes, you can now perceive some form of power levels,” Johanna informed him.

“Next, then.”

The following piece was not what she expected. Strength. Nothing else.

And even stranger. It lit up under her touch as she grabbed it after it formed. Everyone looked at her in surprise.