Judge Chaucer O’Malley 21st of January.

It was different to walk down the street as a nobody. Chaucer was not, by this world’s measure of things, someone of much worth. That was fine. He could still do his duty.

He walked through the town that he had first seen all those months ago, back when his grandson had first asked him to play a game with him. It had been almost a coin flip on whether he would accept the invitation, but he had thought visiting once or twice would make some good memories. They had been good memories. Charles had been so excited to show him around. To explain something to him for a change. To show what he had accomplished.

Despite his reputation for getting into trouble at school, Charles had not gone for the more violent part of the game. He had gotten a ‘Camper,’ the name still somewhat amused the older man, and begun building things. Charles had been excited to show the mineshafts he had sunk, the ores he had refined, explaining which were valuable and how helpful the road building crew had made his mine, because the cost of transport had gone down so drastically.

On Chaucer’s second visit, he saw a double wall and battlements, raised mostly by his grandson and his friends. He had donated the castle, mine and chateau to a guild, for reasons that somewhat escaped Chaucer. But Charles had been excited about it. He had been explaining how this was an opportunity for him and how he was going to be leading a project to build a super highway between two city capitals and how this would help everyone else so much.

Chaucer walked into the inn and found a figure. The character sat absently at a table. Occasionally, looking up or around. Chaucer looked away and found the non-player character who ran the inn. He paid a tab. He returned and sat at the table with the vacant eyed figure.

Charles had died in a car accident. The rest of the family was fine, or rather had recovered. The hit could have been much worse. The ****** drunk who had hit them had been driving fast enough that the first responders were surprised anyone had survived. If only taking his license away had been enough, the first time.

Chaucer sat there and put his head in his hands, while his character sat vacantly besides his grandson’s character. He doubted this was healthy. He doubted it was wise. But he felt it was right. A week after the crash, he had looked up what the terms were for these accounts. If a character was left alone for a month, without money or resources, they would be counted as dead of hunger or thirst. Then the account would be deleted. Chaucer had felt he owed it to Charles not to let that happen. From his reading, this would not last that much longer, less than a year, but he wanted his grandson’s character to be there till the end. So, for the second week, he came by to pay in advance.

The funeral had been a sad, how could a funeral for a teen be anything but sad? Chaucer still thought about the various statements of good character given by friends about his grandson. The improvements in his character noted by his pastor, the tears in the audience by the girl he had finally brought over to his grandparent’s home that Christmas, his language teacher reading out a poem he had won a prize for and the short, speech about how glad they had been to know him, by his parents.

Chaucer looked over the screen at the character. Part of him wished to destroy it. To only remember his grandson as he had been in life, not see this vacant, soulless sight after his death. The proof of his lost aspirations, his unfinished goals. But for now, and until the middle of the year, he would pay in advance.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

His phone rang and he set the controller down to pick it up.

“Hello, who is speaking?”

“Officer Friedemann.”

“May, I ask why you are calling?” Chaucer asked, wondering why the officer was calling past working hours.

“It occurred to me that journalists or other vermin might try to reach out to you for comment before the news was widely spread and that I ought to do you a good turn and tell you that the prisoner, Jordan Wood has died.”

Chaucer leaned back into his chair and asked, “How?”

“During supper he attempted to breakout and was killed by my officers. We are currently reviewing the footage to see if there was a better way for it to be handled, but he had taken a hostage.”

There was a long silence before Chaucer replied, “Thank you, for telling me this.”

The officer was silentfor a moment and then said, “I watched your testimony and recusal. It… It was very moving. My apologies for bringing up any unpleasant memories. Have good evening.”

The judge leaned back as much as he could and deflated. He muted his phone and used a messaging app on his cellphone to warn his wife and daughter not look up the news, answer unknown numbers or open the door. He prepared to call his son.

This was the fourth time that drunk had caused him and his family trouble, but there was some relief in knowing that it was over.

As the phone rang, Chaucer guided his character over to a different inn, a cheaper one, so that he could conserve his own money, so that Charles’ character could make it to the end.

Breakdown of the Title System in “Universe of Heroes by Decree,” published on a obscure blog.

It is kind of arcane, but let’s get into it. My character has two really high titles, but the higher one is sort of embarrassing, so I won’t use it as an example. My character is a Fighter specialized into the [Pugilist Scholar] class. It mostly means I can make unarmed attacks and get higher gear bonuses. Below are my titles and some speculations.

Punch Armor. (Copper.)

Either by bad luck, bad aim, or through some weird third option, you have punched armor fifty times in this battle. You have gained +1 resistance to blunt force with your punches.

(Note; the system writers are not above making fun of you.)

Punch Armor. (Bronze.)

You have persisted in punching solids and you have punched armor fifty times in another battle. You have gained +2 resistance to blunt force with your punches.

(Note; titles are not additive, but rather transformative.)

Punch Armor. (Iron.)

You have defeated an armored opponent of two levels higher than you in single combat with a majority of the damage being done through punches. You have gained +3 resistance to blunt force with your punches.

(Note; Occasionally, you can step out of the usual progression method by doing something impressive with a partially built skill. The exact parameters are unclear. Also that fight was awesome. The Orc [False Knight] had a wasting disease from breaking an oath and it slowed him down enough for me to solo him. If he had ridged or spiked armor, I would have had to let the party deal with him.)

Punch Armor. (Steel.)

You have punched armor 5,000 times. This has resulted in your character gaining +1 damage to unarmored targets. You have gained +4 resistance to blunt force with your punches.

Punch Armor (Orichalcum.)

You have punched armor 10,000 times. This has resulted in your character gaining +2 damage to unarmored targets and +0.01 damage from punching armored foes. You have gained +5 resistance to blunt force with your punches.

Punch Armor (White Iron.)

You have punched armor 50,000 times. This has resulted in your character gaining +4 damage to unarmored targets and +0.1 damage from punching armored foes. You have gained +10 resistance to blunt force with your punches.