It was a very common misunderstanding that Intelligence had anything to do with being clever.

Which was not true.

At least, not in the context of Core stats.

For those who had no background in Build Management, there was a crushing disappointment to be experienced when they piled Progression Points into that stat and remained as moronic as they had previously been.

For those who had a bit more about them - or, more to the point, had the support of a loving family, professional body or grizzled, grumpy mentor with a complex backstory - there was a better appreciation that Intelligence was predominantly linked to the Mana Pool and, perhaps more importantly, to the efficiency of mana usage.

A higher Intelligence stat meant more mana at Jana's disposal and, potentially, more potent Skills.

Likewise, Intelligence also contributed to a person's resistance against magical attacks and their ability to counteract or dispel the effects of Skills, enhancing survivability in encounters with arcane adversaries.

Considering most of the commonly available bits of gear for those with a minor Class would be inscribed with enchantments to do much the same thing, it was generally seen as somewhat of a waste of a resource to directly put Progression Points into that particular stat.

Indeed, any fiddling with the Core stat sheet had long been written off by these in the know in Soar as undesirable mini-maxing.

The boosts available through evolving your Class and the rewards you could purchase once you caught a patron god's eyes were so numerous that the only sensible use of the points gained through moving through levels was to develop the rarity of your Skills.

Before everything went spectacularly wrong, Lowe had followed the received opinion. That was why, in his Classstrated state, his Core stats were in such an abject state. Each of his Progression Points from Level 1 to 19 - including his Level 10 bonus - had been spent on pushing up the rarity of his Skills. That the best of those Skills had been torn away from him was the least a Lowe's complaints about his treatment at the hands of the Council, but - without a class or a god looking after him - it did mean he was fairly damn fragile.

"This is all a bit stable door, horse bolted, isn't it? " he asked Latham, confirming he wished to raise his Intelligence to 100. "Most people my Level will be well on their past 500 with their Class bonuses, won't they?"

It didn't look like Latham planned to answer, but then he took a deep breath and turned to look straight into Lowe's eyes. “What do you know of Essence Transmutation Theory?"

The segue was so unlikely, coming from a in the middle of a busy high street, that Lowe nearly got conversational whiplash. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Essence Transmutation Theory. Have you heard of it?"

Lowe started shaking his head and then paused. There had been something at college, hadn't there? "Isn't It to do with, I can't quite . . . purity of stat points?"

Lathan gave a half-nod. "Okay. This will be easier then. Consider my Strength stat." A number hovered over the head. Lowe took an instinctive step back.

"Fucking hell, mate. Do you have to be careful not to rip your cock off when you piss?"

Lathan didn't laugh. Lowe was beginning to suspect the big man did not find him either witty or charming. "Now, most of that comes with my Class and pretty much every will have broadly similar numbers. If I mock out what my Core sheet looks like without my Class bonus . . ."

The numbers he projected above his head dropped by two-thirds but were still astonishingly high. "I still have all sorts of gear and equipment that boost me up. But if I switch those off for a moment . . ."

The number plummeted again, reaching a more crushingly regular 134.

Lowe felt himself shrugging. "Still more than enough to kick my sorry arse."

"But that's the point, little man. Essence Transmutation Theory teaches us that the only true measure of our worth is not what is given to us by others but what we can develop for ourselves. Should I displease my superiors and be stripped of my Class and gear - a fate of which you are intimately familiar - where would I be? Have you any idea how much XP I need at my Level to rank up again?"

"I'd assume a lot."

"You'd be right." Latham suddenly looked around him surreptitiously. "Look, there are lots of people who think you were screwed over, little man. The thing is, because of your low level, you've got time to put it right. If you make a start right now. Being sub-Level 20 is critical. It means you have a chance actually to progress. Essence Transmutation Theory. Read up on it. And don't waste your Progression Points."

Then, as if a switch had been flicked, the conspiratorial tone in Latham's voice vanished. He was striding ahead down the street, and Lowe needed to run to keep up.

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He was just about to draw level when the boost to Intelligence caught up with his brain.

*

By any reasonable measure in Soar, 100 in Intelligence was a paltry amount. There were amulets - the city had once loaned Lowe one for a particularly difficult case - that added 250 in one go. However, having spent much of the last year coping with 80-odd, suddenly having his Mana Pool surge in volume was a headrush.

Intelligence also impacted upon several of the hidden secondary stats that Lowe had never really been interested enough in mapping out: concentration, nerve, memory, et al. So, as that hard-coded Core stat rose, his view of the world somewhat shifted and crystallised around him, causing him to stumble.

Latham's arm moved in a blur and caught him before he fell.

It was somewhat disconcerting to be handled like a ragdoll, but Lowe managed to let his pride accept the hit. It was hardly the most humiliating thing that had happened to him in the past week.

"Thank you," he mumbled, "my vision is just taking some time to settle down.”

Latham did not say anything.

Lowe was trying to find a way to get the to open up about Essence Transmutation Theory some more when they reached the portal stone.

With barely a backward glance, Latham had activated it, and - in moments - the two were stood on the Third Floor of the Celestial Temple.

Lowe immediately headed to the small room that functioned as the office. He had hoped that Gianna's secretary would be more at his ease answering questions in his own environment, but it quickly became apparent that was not going to be the case.

The old man's eyes held a hunted look, and his face in the morning light was completely drained of any life. In theory, Aintra should be able to fill in any number of blanks about the night before the High Priestess's murder.

Whether he had the inclination to do so was another thing.

They had been speaking for a little over a bell, during which time Lowe had learned nothing new about the crime but far more than he ever needed to know about the inner workings of the backroom staff of a god's avatar.

Any thoughts he had that this was a remotely glamorous life had long since been dispelled.

Stifling a yawn, he tried to move things towards a conclusion. "Is there anything else you can think of adding to your initial statement, Mr. Webber?"

"I doubt it, sir. I have tried to be as forthcoming as possible."

Lowe went to stand and then paused and resettled himself in the patchy leather chair that had farted every time he had moved during the interview.

"Sorry, just one more thing. Did you like the High Priestess?"

It was possible that Aintra's face went even paler than it already was. "Like her, sir?"

"Yes. As a person. Did you, for example, find her to be pleasant company? Did you enjoy working with her? Was she a delight to be around? It would seem to me that you served her for a very long time, and I would appreciate getting your insight into her character."

"The best part of ten years,” the murmured.

"You entered the Temple at the same time, I understand?" Aintra nodded back. "Gravalk spoke to us at much the same moment."

"She must have been very grateful to have someone at her side who knew her little wants and needs. After all that time, I imagine you had become fairly central to the working of this cult. Especially as she was preparing to move to the Second Floor?"

A blush entered Aintra's cheeks. He cleared his throat as if making to speak, then hesitated. Lowe waited. It appeared to him that the had something he needed to get off his chest. In his experience, letting people talk in their own time was always wise.

He doubted Aintra was about to confess to murder- with the Skills the High Priestess had in her possession, he thought it unlikely that the old man could have inflicted so much as a papercut - but you never know.

He'd known stranger things to happen. Though not many.

After the silence had continued for longer than Lowe would have expected, Aintra seemed to come to a resolution. "I'm sure you would have found this out yourself, anyway. Temple gossip being what it is. The High Priestess had let me go."

Lowe was careful not to react, nodding for the secretary to continue.

"She'd asked to see me before I left that evening. Apparently, at Level 32, it would not be appropriate for me to serve her on the Second Floor."

"That must have been hard for you to hear."

"It is what it is, sir. And what it is is pretty awful. But I was probably due for a change after so long in one role. In eight levels, it would seem sensible to evolve my Class anyway. I would probably have looked to leave my lady's service at that point in any event."

Lowe let the lie sit there between, like a particularly pungent turd. Aintra shuffled about in his chair but didn't take the opportunity to add anything to his story.

Eventually, Lowe decided to prod things onward. "Interesting. We may need to come back to that. For now, though, can you tell me if the High Priestess often remained in her receiving chamber after you all had left for the evening?"

Aintra almost sighed with relief when being able to move on to routine matters. "It was not especially uncommon, sir. You will be aware that she made prodigious progress up the floors of the Temple, and that sort of growth does not happen merely through meeting business hours. I often would lock up the rest of the floor, leaving the High Priestess in situ."

"And yet her door was locked when you arrived on the morning you discovered her body?"

The paused as if he had not considered that before. Lowe did not like the pantomime the man was presenting here. Unless he was a moron - and Aintra Webber was certainly not that - he'd obviously come to the same conclusion, and pretending this was the first time he'd considered it was not convincing.

"Yes, that is strange, is it not?"

"Yes. It is. And you did not accidentally lock her in when you left?"

Despite the tense atmosphere in the small room, Webber smiled at that. "Hardly, sir. One did not make such errors around the High Priestess. At least, not twice."

"So, for clarity. The High Priestess was alive when you left shortly before the tenth evening bell. You did not lock her door. When you arrived the following morning, the door was locked, and Gianna d'Avec was butchered behind that closed and secured door. "

"Those are the facts as I understand them, sir."

Lowe did not miss the rather formal language used there. In his experience, when people retreated behind formality, it was because they had practised what they were saying, which was interesting.

He looked anew at Aintra Webber and let the silence develop.

Aintra cleared his throat several times before Lowe put him out of his misery. "So, and this will be my final question, you contend that only you and the High Priestess could lock and unlock that door. No one else in the service of Gravalk could do so?"

Aintra's face took on a pained expression. “I may not be the most powerful being on this floor, sir, but I can be sure of that. If it was not I who locked that door, then only the High Priestess or our Lord Gravalk himself could have done it."

Lowe smiled and looked back at Latham. The had spent the interview looming, impressively, in the doorway.

"Well, Mr. Warder. It sounds like we need a meeting with a god, doesn't it?!"