Morgan awoke sitting slumped against the short tower by the gate. The sun was low in the sky, and his head and upper torso was full of pain. The burly guard, who was loitering nearby saw him stir and addressed him, “The outworlder lives. You put on a brave show back there, unarmoured as you are. Glad you made it.” Morgan groggily looked at the man, before emitting a low groan. The guard looked down on him pityingly, before continuing, “A goblin to the head is a pretty bad injury, you might want to get it seen to. You can go to the infirmary at the barracks. It’s near the manor, tell them I sent you.”
Morgan stared at the man dumbly for a moment, before managing to push some slurred words out, “Who... are... you?"
The guard laughed at this, the sharp sound stabbing at the player’s inflamed brain. Seeing Morgan’s wince, he toned it down a bit, apologising, “Sorry. I forgot I never introduced myself. I’m Rolin. I’m the captain of the guard in Caslon. We’re pretty undermanned out here, with the goblins being so numerous, so thank you for helping out. You can have this back.”
With this the guard produced the sword that Morgan had wielded, its blade still tipped with dark green blood. Morgan, still seated, took the blade and clumsily thrust it into his inventory. He faced the captain trying, “Thank-y.” He was silent for a moment trying to work out why his word sounded wrong.
Rolin looked at Morgan, now concerned, “In fact, I better take you to the infirmary myself. Hold on.” With this, the burly man picked Morgan up like he was a child and headed into town. After a short walk, Morgan trying to stifle the moans as his head jogged with the guard's step, he was taken into a low building by the manor and deposited on a cot. A magi appeared from a back room, an older lady in a white robe. Rolin greeted her politely, “Hi Esme, can you help? Took a flying goblin to the head, think the poor lad is badly concussed. Can barely talk. He put up a brave showing against the little bastards, so the town will cover his healing costs if you’re able.”
The lady tutted at the captain, “Of course I’m able. Give me a moment.” She moved to inspect Morgan, who lay on the bed dazed and barely responsive. She nodded to herself before holding her hands out over Morgan’s head. Her hands started to glow with an icy blue light that radiated towards Morgan’s bruised skin, growing in intensity. When she started, he felt a cold chill from the hands, which rapidly warmed until he could almost feel the light seeping into his skin. The waves of warmth swept through him, pushing away his pain and rapidly healing his bruised and broken skin.
[+100 HP – Healing]
After a minute, and a couple more healing notifications, Morgan felt as good as new, bar the dizziness. He tried to thank the maji, but was still having problems forming words. He mumbled something unintelligible at the woman, who smiled at him kindly before starting another spell. The blue light returned to her hands, but tinged with a deeper purple colour, and she put her hands to each of his temples.
[Condition cured – Concussion]
Morgan’s world abruptly righted itself and remained stable, and he no longer felt like his thoughts were buried in a thick fog. He looked up at the lady, blinking a few times while he tried to stabilise the rapid change in his mind. “Thank you for this, that was an awful blow to take. I’m glad it wasn’t worse.” He turned to the captain, who had been watching the display quietly from a corner of the small room, “Rolin, did the baron make it?”
The captain smiled at Morgan as he replied, “Aye, that he did. We lost Toby, the guard, and all of the baron’s knights, however. Against such a pack that’s a good result; if we’d have lost the baron there'd be hell to pay. It’s happened before, about a year ago. The fool was riding back from the capital, just like today, and got jumped as the road passes the forest. He was too far for us to save, but when he came back like the damnable outworlder he is, sorry, no offense to you, he had the previous captain flogged and sent back to the capital. Poor bloke, he was a decent guy.”
Morgan suddenly remembered something, and sat bolt upright, “Rolin, what time is it?” the guard checked some kind of internal clock, responding, “It's about half seven. You were out for a little while, lad.”
Morgan jumped out of the cot in a panic, “I was supposed to report to see the baron before 6pm. It’s important.” He started to rush out of the door as the captain spoke, “He only got into his manor half an hour or so ago, you should be alright given the circumstance.”
Thanking the captain and the healer, he exited onto the street and dashed towards the manor. Arriving back at the familiar gate, he saw some movement on the other side in the manor's small front grounds. He rattled the gate for a moment, and a liveried character appeared with a frown on his stern face. The man regarded Morgan for a moment, before addressing him, “The manor closes at six. Come back tomorrow.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Morgan eyed the man a little wildly, panicking about not addressing the terms of his contract. It was stupid of him to get distracted and go off into some hare-brained battle. Morgan responded, a little hotly, “I was here at the gate before six, and no one was here. I helped to save the baron when he was attacked on his way into town!”
The servant eyed Morgan, unimpressed, before responding, “I will get the seneschal. He will decide.” With this, he spun on his heel and headed into the manor. He emerged a minute later followed by a tall, stern figure dressed in a dark blue robe that came down to his ankles, a fine pair of leather shoes on display beneath.
He too eyed Morgan coldly through the gate. “You must be Morgan. You’re late.”
The panicking Morgan tried to explain himself as quickly as he could, stumbling over the words. He barely managed a sentence before the seneschal cut him off. “Thats enough, no excuses. Come with me.” The man produced a large keyring from his belt, selecting one and opening the gate. He beckoned for Morgan to follow as he headed into the mansion. He led him through a richly decorated lobby area, and through into a small cosy study, a fireplace roaring on one side, and the other walls crammed with full bookshelves. A solid desk, with a chair on each side stood in the middle of the small room, and the Senechal took the further chair, indicating the other for Morgan.
Both men sat, and the blue robed man introduced himself. “I am Colin. I am the seneschal for his grace, the Baron of Caslon. I have been appointed to administer Caslon, which includes those sent into the baron's service here.”
Morgan attempted to match the introduction, but Colin cut him off after a word, “You were supposed to be here before six. You have failed to achieve this. This, is not a good indication of your quality.”
Again, Morgan tried to get a word in, but the man frowned at him and cut him off again, “No excuses, I said. You are late. His grace has been lenient before, and by that precedent I will be lenient again. Rather than report this breach of contract, the baron will graciously forget this incident for a faster turnaround in the materials you are expected to collect. We have been in need of a gatherer for some time; the main army is demanding potions for the war effort and as a barony of the kingdom, we have a tithe to fulfil. You are required to gather two hundred Silkblossom seedpods and a hundred vials of Valoplant sap within two weeks. In his grace’s wisdom, your inn stay is subsidised by half, and you will receive one meal a day.”
Morgan blinked at this. It sounded like an awful lot of plants, and he had no idea what these plants even looked like, let alone how to get sap from a Valoplant. That on top of acquiring ten silver a day to fund his resting habit. He started to speak, but again the man frowned at him and cut him off abruptly, “That is all, Morgan. You have 14 days from now to fulfil this, or your contract will be voided. I will see you in 14 days.” With this, he led Morgan out of the manor without another word.
Dazedly, Morgan wandered back to the inn. The barkeeper greeted him as he came in, the place reasonably lively with characters drinking and chatting. “Welcome back Morgan. I’m Vally, by the way. I heard what you did for the town against the goblins. Rolin was pretty complimentary about you, and it's rare for him to compliment an outworlder. I’ll knock a couple of silver off your stay each night for the town's gratitude. With the baron’s subsidy, it’ll be eight silvers a night, OK?”
Nodding gratefully at the man, Morgan replied, “Thank you Vally. That will be a great help. Seems like I’ve got a lot of plants to gather in a short amount of time, and I’ve no idea where to start.”
The innkeeper thought about this for a moment before replying, “Well, you shouldn’t do too bad round here. The forests are full of herbal ingredients, more so as we haven’t had a gatherer here in some time. Talk to the alchemist tomorrow and she should be able to point you in the right direction. Before I forget, you’re to be given a meal daily, mind, and that starts today.” He disappeared into the back room and came out shortly after with a large plate of sausages and bread, handing it over.
Thanking the man for the advice and the food, Morgan headed upstairs to share dinner with his cats. He opened the door to a cacophony of meows as the beasts swarmed around his legs, arching their backs and rubbing against his shins. They seemed a little bigger still now, half kitten, half cat; Cattens, he supposed.
He thought to review his forgotten notifications, thinking about the ones he’d ignored mid battle. The text boxes, responding to his thoughts, reappeared. There were multiple messages displaying the experience he’d been awarded for taking part in slaying the monsters, several levels in bows, and another level in blades. It seemed that if he’d gotten a blow in, he was awarded a share of the experience of the kill, netting him a good amount. The messages culminated with,
[You have reached Level 6]
[You have reached Cat Herder : Level 5]
So, it seemed that as the cats were out in the room a couple of hundred meters away, they’d shared his experience. Wondering if there was a range limit, he laid his meal on the small table, swatting the cattens away from the sausages as he pulled some dinner for them out of his inventory. Once he’d placed the unappetizing bundle on the ground and the beasts were happily munching, he sat on the bed and started to eat his own meal.
Once man and beasts were done with their food, he pulled out the astral crystal. A quick call to his family later, he settled down to sleep. He laid awake for a while, thinking about what his mother had said. She’d talked for a while about the lawyer that they could afford and their hopes that they would uncover something in the contract that would allow them to talk more freely, but Morgan knew that with his family’s meagre finances; the help they could afford wouldn’t be the best. The cats slowly piled around him in the same formation as before, and to the sound of gentle purrs, and with a tabby tail covering his eyes, he fell asleep.