Empirical Gnollage: Installment 108 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment108.png]
Wikwocket opted to take this last opportunity to make a public spectacle of herself, and easily persuaded Gruntle to join her. "One last performance, just to make sure everyone remembers us!" she insisted.
"I feel like we probably shouldn't be attracting more attention, but it's probably too late for that anyway," Al grumbled.
"Hey, if you want people to be more comfortable around the gnoll party, more attention of this kind will help!"
"I don't know, I've been wondering if maybe we don't want people getting too comfortable. There seems to be a lot of justifiable hatred out there over gnolls running around brutally murdering people. Maybe it'd be better if people who might be after some kind of misguided revenge were reluctant to mess with us," Al argued.
"How are we supposed to get wealthier and more famous if nobody wants to get near us to offer us work?"
"Well, I mean, if we have a reputation for getting things done, people will still contact us and hire us to do things, right?"
"But what sort of tasks would people who fear us be likely to hire us for?" Bote asked, "Would those be the sorts of jobs we want to focus on?"
Anyone who's afraid of us is probably worried about gnollish murderous violence... so they'll come to us wanting to pay us to do gnollish murderous violence to someone, won't they, Al realized.
"That's... yes, I suppose that's a good point. I'm just feeling uncomfortable with how quickly the amount of attention we get has been increasing lately. There are still a lot of people that seem very unhappy to see a gnoll running around."
"They're jerks anyway!" Wikwocket insisted, "Besides, there are also a lot of people who think it's exotic or funny. Those people are possible allies who'll tell everyone how great we are!"
"Well... just try not to overdo it," Al conceded, unable to come up with a good counterargument but still feeling uncomfortable. "I assume I don't need to remind you not to tell people we're leaving in the middle of the night tonight?"
"And ruin the surprise? No, obviously not! Come on, Gruntle, let's make sure they aren't going to forget us!"
They were through the door and rushing down the hall before Al could object. Somewhere in the distance, someone's startled shout and Wikwocket's "excuse us!" in apology echoed back.
"At least the exertion should calm their restlessness," Bote reassured Al. "What do you plan to do to calm your own restlessness today?"
"I've got plenty to do to keep me occupied. Actually, you might be able to help me with one of them. There's an oath I have to swear to in order to get into the place in Southwall that used to be a library. The instructions include a list of places that would be acceptable to swear the oath, and one of them is a temple or shrine dedicated to Indicina."
"Ah, I assume the oath includes the keeping of secrets then?"
"Uh, yes."
"In that case, yes, I can help you with this. We have temples in nearly any prominent population center, though they aren't always obvious. If you are ready now, I can take you to the one here in Hell's Bathtub."
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Al followed Bote out to the main road and to the left turn at the aptly-named Holy Street. Numerous small temples and shrines lined the street. Bote led Al to a two-story stone building, where a statue of an elven woman holding an open codex and and quill pen stood at the doorway.
"Literatura, goddess of formal writing, documentation, and books," Bote explained in passing as they went inside. Bote led Al past rows of bookshelves, pausing to give the eye-nose-ear-mouth gesture to the temple caretaker, who replied with a hand-motion suggesting the writing of a word in the air with an invisible stylus.
"Is there a shrine to Indicina in here because of the writing, since Indicina is the messenger god?" Al wondered aloud.
"Partly, I suppose, but mostly because the temple of Literatura had space available for us to use," Bote replied as they turned down one of the aisles of books and headed towards a door in the wall. Bote opened it, and the smell of a musty basement found Al's nostrils. Stone steps led down to a small room lit by the steady glow of some magical illumination. Bote gestured for Al to descend, and then closed the door behind them and followed Al down.
The room at the bottom was a small, simple rectangular space, with a set of shelves along the opposite wall. A few wax-sealed scrolls and envelopes rested on them, each with paper tags on strings attached with another glob of wax.
"This space is consecrated to Indicina," Bote explained. "Mostly, messages are brought here for redistribution, but Indicina's presence here also makes this a suitable place to swear an oath. I will return upstairs to ensure nobody interrupts you, so come out when you are finished."
"Wait! How do I actually do this?" Al said, looking around at the complete lack of obvious religious iconography. The only indication that there was any sort of supernatural presence was the magical lighting.
"Do you know and understand the oath that you intend to swear here?"
"Yes, I have the wording of it written on the paper I have with me, and I've read through it."
"Do you intend to honor this oath?"
"What? Yes, obviously, I wouldn't be swearing to it if I didn't."
"Good, simply keep that in mind as you speak the oath. You may shout or whisper as you feel appropriate, but also keep in mind that Indicina hears you as you speak. That should be sufficient."
Bote went back up the stairs, closing the door again as they left, leaving Al feeling foolish and out of place.
"Uh... hello," he said to the empty air, "I'm supposed to swear this oath so, uh, if you'll listen so you know I swore it... uh, that'd be great. Thanks." He took the paper from a pocket in his robes, unfolded it, and read through the text of the oath. He'd gone over it more than once looking for tricks or unpleasant loopholes, but hadn't found anything especially burdensome. He promised not to share any knowledge of the interior of the former library with anyone who hadn't sworn the oath, he promised to bring a sacrificial donation of a book any time he entered the former library, he promised not to do harm to other oath-takers he might meet inside the former library, and he promised to always act with the benefit of the former library in mind whenever it was relevant. That part was the second most worrisome portion of the oath. Al had gone over that several times trying to find some trick to it, but it seemed to rely entirely on his intentions rather than some absolute judgement of whether his actions were ultimately beneficial or not.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
He reflexively hesitated for a moment before the final most-worrisome oath, to accept any "fair, proportional, and just punishment" in response to violations of the oath. The oath didn't specify who or what would be judging what constitutes a violation of the oath or what sort of punishments would be fair, proportional, and just, or even exactly to who or what the oath was directed.
I'm swearing the oath to Indicina, who has heard and will convey my swearing of the oath to the appropriate entities, as well as any violations of the oath and recommended punishments for them, Al thought. Then, he wondered where the thought had come from. It felt strange, like it was a thought that had been put there. Ineffably.
"Oh. Right. Uh, thank you for listening."
I'm welcome.
Al shook his head and rushed back up the stairs, wondering if perhaps Bote's thoughts were like that all the time.
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The next order of business was to collect their pay. Al and Bote returned to their room to gather up the worn stocking and napkin that the magistrate had given them, and then found Stephen to guide them down to the underground space where the treasury workers kept watch over the vault. The publicly accessible area was just a small space in front of a stone wall. An iron-barred window in the wall separated them from the attendants on the other side, where there seemed to be an office with several desks, shelves of records, and on the far wall, a heavy door that appeared to be cast from a single piece of iron. The only out-of-place feature there seemed to be a small fountain of steaming hot water in the floor a short way behind the window. The window-attendant accepted their unorthodox cloth documents with no hesitation which suggested to Al that this wasn't the first time the magistrate had done this sort of thing. Al watch, puzzled, as the attendant used a pair of tongs to hold the napkin and stocking in the stream of steaming hot water for a few moments before examining them.
"Balnea Infernala will know if there is any fraud taking place," the attendant explained. He seemed satisfied that the writing was no less legible after its soaking. "How much of this do you want in coin?"
"As opposed to what?" Al asked.
"This is a fairly substantial amount of coinage to carry around. Depending on where you're headed when you leave, you may prefer to take some of this as a promissory note for one of the banks we keep accounts with. For example, we have a substantial sum deposited at Bank of Southwall in order for our agents there to purchase supplies for us. You might find it more convenient to carry a note and collect coin after you arrive, rather than being responsible for such a large sum in coin for the entire trip."
"I don't imagine it'd be all that heavy if we split it up between us all to carry," Al considered.
"Yes, but coins can be lost or stolen and there would be no recourse. A divinely-guaranteed promissory note provides some protection from fraud and theft. Of course, if you lose it, you would need to return here and it would take some time to replace it while we confirm the original hasn't been redeemed, but in my opinion this is still substantially safer," the attendant suggested.
"The terms of our agreement with Notamimic Manor do not absolve us of returning the agreed-upon share to them if any of our earnings are lost," Bote added.
"Hmmm. Yeah. Hey, Stephen, how much is our bill so far?"
"Forty-three gold as of right now," Stephen answered immediately.
"Ouch. But I guess we can afford that now. All right, how about we take one hundred coins for each of the four of us, plus an additional fifty or so to cover our bills, and we can cash in for the rest when we get to Southwall."
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Al felt awkward with his very heavy coinpurse, stuffed with the weight of three hundred gold coins until he could hand over Wikwocket's and Gruntle's shares to them. Bote and their hundred gold coins followed Al as he went back outside and headed for the apothecary. He traded a few gold coins for a small wooden box that jug of poisonous goblin swamp-juice would fit into, which was then filled with molten wax to submerge it completely. Another sixty gold coins bought him a fine, sturdy codex of blank vellum sheets suitable for wizardry use.
"I suppose this means your job went well?" the shopkeeper asked with a smile as she took Al's money and handed over his purchases.
"Yes, very well I think."
"Do feel free to spend as much of your earnings here as you'd like, we appreciate your business."
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Al spent a few more gold coins buying meat pies to feed everyone that evening and on the road when they left. He was prepared to return to the room for the remainder of the day to read, but Bote had one more thing they felt needed to be done first.
"It would be rude to neglect Haunch. Good manners dictate that we visit him to see how he is doing before we show up to drag him away overnight."
"He's a donkey. Why would he care?"
"Perhaps he does not, but he has worked hard for us since joining us, and it is only fair that we afford him proper consideration."
They found their donkey looking contented in his large stall, well-groomed and eating oats from a bucket.
"I see they have been taking good care of you," Bote said to the donkey, who answered with a soft, low grunting sound. "I'm afraid we will need to move on later tonight, but please do not be upset. You must be getting bored in here anyway, and I promise we will continue to treat you well."
Haunch simply snorted. Bote reached up to pat his neck gently before turning to leave.
"I'm pretty sure donkeys don't really understand what you're saying, why did you want to talk to him?"
"Do you intend to give Gruntle one hundred gold coins?" Bote asked for some reason.
"What? Well, yes, but what does that have to do with donkeys?"
"Do you believe Gruntle truly understands the value of one hundred gold coins?"
"I doubt it, but he's earned it anyway. Ah. I see your point," Al conceded. He turned back to wave at the donkey before they left. "Thanks, Haunch," he called out.
Haunch said nothing in reply, being a donkey, but watched them leave as he chewed another mouthful of oats.
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They returned to their room. Al found Stephen and arranged to have someone wake them up a few hours before dawn so they could leave inconspicuously. Then, Al got out his books and dove into studying. He was several hours into his reading and notes on the conjuration of fully-manifest spirits into the waking world when Wikwocket and Gruntle returned to the room, staggering in as if exhausted. Wikwocket fell onto her bed clutching her stomach while Gruntle slowly crawled underneath Al's bed.
"There are meat pies if you want to eat before sleeping," Al pointed out. Wikwocket groaned.
"No, I think we've had enough to eat for now," she said. "We made a lot of food-sellers happy today."
"I haven't given you your share of the money we took out today yet, how did you pay for that much food?"
"We didn't!" Wikwocket answered with a grin. "We got a crowd going by inviting them to throw food at Gruntle. By the end of it, they were buying things from the food-carts and throwing it at both of us. It was a great time, but I don't think we're going to need to eat again for a little while. Besides, those meat pies are probably cold by now."
"There's nothing wrong with cold meat pie," Al argued.
"Still not as good as hot ones. Oh, I know, you can use magic fire to heat them back up again, right?"
"Uh... that's probably not a good idea, unless you want to turn them into charcoal. The spells conjure up a lot of magic fire."
"You can't just make a little magic fire instead of a lot?"
"That's just not how the magic works! There's an intent to make a lot of fire behind making the magic work, if I wanted to make a less intense amount of fire I'd have to... hmmm...".
"I'm sure our magical sword hero can figure it out! You work on that, I'm going to take a nice long nap while I digest all of this food."
Al was very annoyed when the academic challenge of reducing the magic fire from his fingers to a simpler, more controlled effect distracted him from his spirit-binding research. Everyone else was asleep when he finally decided to stop thinking about it. He allowed himself to command his candle to extinguish itself rather than blowing it out, and then went to sleep dreaming of small fires.