“You got it right Isaac? Level 5?” Myrn asked. Her scarlet hair and eyes like blue gemstones made her expression all the brighter as she smiled at Ivan's awkward nervousness. After talking for some time and sharing a dinner they had come to an out of the way village. She laughed and she drew Ivan out onto the open floor of the Inn with both hands.
Ivan had recently sold some goods of dubious fortune to a 'family friend' of Myrn's and earned some coin. It also turned out that successfully selling goods to a fence increased his thief skills too. Though a lot of odd things seemed to. It was the first noncombat, but wholly utility based job Ivan had approached. He kept checking his conjured scroll as it seemed that Thief increased in level when he lied, cheated, stole, or handled knives. Just like getting people to believe his name was Isaac was enough to gain the skill 'Smooth Talker'. Yet Ivan knew he wouldn't be doing nearly as well without Penelope's help in increasing his insight.
It seemed like using her magic he gained a portion of her current summoned forms' attributes while she stayed inside his Shroud as a willing guest. It also gave him a weakened effect much like her own where his scent alone could be enough to charm weak minded women, but was still enough to lower the guard of those more shrewd. It was a passive effect that boosted his Charisma attribute and Thief not only thrived on Dexterity and Agility as should be obvious, but grew into Charisma as it developed into the Adept Class of Job, Rogue.
Ivan's gaze shot around the room. His hatred burned as he took in the number of Militia of Light members staying here, but he quickly controlled his gaze. Instead he focused on Myrn who was still dragging him out onto the dance floor. There was a man singing a rowdy tune on stage, and while no one else was dancing there were a few men singing along with him.
“Myrn.” Ivan growled, but she just laughed.
“I want to dance, Isaac. It's been too long since I just danced.” Myrn argued, and with the smooth dexterity of a ranger she drew a coin from her pocket and flicked it at the man singing. The man caught it mid tune taking one hand off his lute to do so. It was a good reflexive catch, fast as a whip crack, but Ivan had expected the coin to fly by his head.
“You hear that master bard?” Myrn asked.
The singer rolled his eyes, but smiled.
“Of course dear lady Ranger, something to dance to correct?” He asked in a smooth, slightly smarmy tone of voice.
He had a strange accent, and features that were much different than the local citizenry making him a traveler of some kind, but something about him stood out to Ivan. He was subtly strange to Ivan's senses. He didn't have enough high end control yet to tell if it was a mystic sense or something closer to the emotions he could sometimes sense as long as Penelope was hidden within the Shroud, but there was something about him.
Myrn bowed her head in ascent as the 'Bard' tucked the coin into his pocket. Bard was the Advanced, or fourth tier Job in the Singer's natural progression list. It was very unlikely that this man actually had that job, but addressing him so might be considered a compliment from a pretty girl like Myrn. Anyway Ivan, or Isaac, found himself dragged out from their small booth in the corner and out onto the Inn's small dance floor. There were plenty of tables put around, and some of the serving girls came forward after a moment to tuck away some of the loose chairs.
“Okay so it's like this. One step forward. Two steps back. Slide your left foot right to your ankle and then about a foot to the left.” Myrn said, taking both his hands in hers and demonstrating the steps. She was so eager and earnest Ivan found himself following her instruction in no time. Ivan followed her lead for a moment and guessed the next step. Myrn glided in his hands, her feet landing soft in spite of her boots, as her eyes went wide and he twirled her about in his arms.
Ivan didn't say anything, lost for a moment in old memories of dancing at various holiday festivals with Tanya. He decided to let himself get lost in that, letting the Bard's excellent music guide his feet and the pace of their dancing until eventually other people started to join. By then Myrn was laughing, her face flush with excitement and the rush of dancing, but with her Ranger job she was far from done. Ivan who now had Thief, Knight, and Fighter under his belt was near tireless to this sort of exercise. Each class including Knight's Squire precursor job, and Fighter's Warrior gave overall attribute bonuses but both specialized in increasing his Endurance, Strength, and Agility.
Each of those attributes were on display here. Strength to lift and glide Myrn through turns, making her laugh and spin about, Agility to keep pace with the music, along with some little side play in Dexterity to keep him from tangling himself on his own feet. Endurance showed itself as one of his core attributes as he simply refused to break into a sweat, and kept an easy smile on his face as he danced.
Ivan didn't know what Druid, an Advanced Class Job with a max level of 20, would give Myrn, but Ranger certainly included a large boost to endurance. Ranger was a well rounded class that could shine in various rolls, and assuming like most classes that Druid gave her some little extra attributes besides, he decided he didn't need to hold back.
Pain lanced through his heart still, but he also felt new joy in the simple act of dancing with Myrn. He let himself fall into that instead of anguishing on the memory of his lost family. It seemed almost wrong to set them aside, but he had probably grieved for them enough. He should enjoy himself and dance with Myrn to get some of his spirit back. Ultimately though it was seeing the reflection of his own thoughts in her eyes that made him keep on. They both needed nights of fun, and they both needed to laugh and smile. The more he thought about that, the more he thought it was true about everyone.
He spun her about left and right, and before he knew it others were coming in to dance with them. He didn't listen to the chatter around him, or to the words of the song the Bard began to call out with the tune that came from his lute. He danced thinking and reflecting on the things he had done lately that Tanya would love to see him do it, and that of all things something in the act felt right. After all that had happened Tanya would want to see him dancing. He was sure of it.
Ivan realized at some point then he was using Penelope's burrowed Insight to sense the emotions of those around him. Not only that, but he could suddenly feel each person who joined him on the dance floor through the tether of a feather light ribbon of sensation. In the back of his mind he focused on that while his hands and feet moved Myrn through the dance. He was soaking in the emotions, the happy relief of tension and stress turned to exhilaration as the people came to the floor for the first time in months if not weeks. He could feel them almost like a taste on his tongue strangely, each with their own unique flavor and texture, but he didn’t let the stray thoughts slow him down.
Soon many of the tables and chairs were cleared away and even the serving girls began dancing. As they did, and the Bard played, Ivan became certain that as much as it was the Bard's wonderful music there was something he was doing that brought the people in. He thought about and felt the tethers in his mind, and knew on some level that this was just the beginning. Eventually he wouldn't need a Bard or musician for anything but setting to help disguise the threads.
He saw Myrn and the others as prey caught in his web. He felt their emotions as a spider would their struggles against its sticky silken strands, and he felt something in this exchange of dance and emotion filling him. At first he considered it some trick of the mind or his own imagination, but as he danced Myrn and the others kept on even as they began to sweat and lose composure. Even the Bard began to look a little confused as he played on, his fingers not quite bleeding on the strings of the lute, but certainly pained and turning red at the tips.
Penelope chuckled in the Shroud, and it suddenly felt as though she was leaning over his shoulder instead of leaning against a gravestone in the shadowy garden of the Shroud's hidden reality.
“Take her.” Penelope whispered amidst her demonic chuckling.
Myrn came with him out of the dance. She was laughing, her face filled with joy, and the others, Bard, and dancers included, came to a slow stop with them. Many were laughing, some panting like the Bard, but many didn't hesitate to call for drinks.
Ivan struggled to sort out his thoughts. Myrn wasn't a delicate flower of a girl, but under the strength of his hands she might as well be. He held her up easily as she caught her breath against him, not exhausted as much as she had laughed herself close to light headed. Ivan had to push through various hyper acute sensations that rolled over him. He suddenly knew the beating pace of her heart. The fresh scent of her sweat filled his nose, and something about that gave him an overall sense of her health. She was strong in body, and in spirit, her spark was there in his senses too, and the thought of it filled him with an incredible dual hunger.
He suddenly knew exactly what to do if he wanted to. He could take 'bites' out of her with something as simple as a kiss now. On the mouth, just across the lips, or just there on the small indent of her neck just above the artery would be the best option after that. There was only a small chance his mind considered that she might resist, especially if he guided her away now, but that's where the thoughts lost him. What came next to their instinctual was a deeper feeding, and a violation of body and mind that suddenly seemed revolting to Ivan. He knew before and now that he was producing a scent much like Penelope's own, and that there was some kind of magic to it, but his surviving morals and instinctual understanding of what that scent did suddenly didn't agree.
Myrn's happy blushing smile seemed to be waiting, her lips slightly parted as she caught her breath and looked up at him.
Ivan gave her an uneasy smile, as his thoughts and the twisting in his guts sobered him. He didn't even think to reprimand Penelope. He didn't know if he should, or could, after what his own instincts had just told him to do.
Dark hissing chuckles filled the background of his mind. He tried to ignore the demon.
“Soon Ivan. Soon. You're taking to it so well, and I admire your resistance too.” Penelope purred. “It will make it all the sweeter when you fall from what little grace there is left in you.” Her words were intoxicating and made the dark urges from before rise in him.
Worst of all, Myrn's deepening blush, and the turn of her body against him seemed to suggest to those instincts that now was the time to strike as well.
“Are you hungry after that? Or have you eaten?” Ivan asked, barely managing the words, and failing to keep his eyes from Myrn's lips.
Myrn smiled warmly at him, her eyes about level with his own, and nodded as she separated herself from him. The action, and the sensation of emotion from her seemed regretful which made that hunger inside Ivan all the worse.
“I had something earlier, but I wouldn't mind sharing a meal with you. Isaac~.” She added that last in a pleasant little tone of voice that somehow neatly tied up the heat left from their dance. Something in his Insight attribute told him that she would remember that dance, and probably ask for another. That gave him conflicting reactions of his own that he did his best to keep hidden.
They sat together then, Myrn playfully taking a seat beside him, instead of across from him as they had sat before. Ivan gave her a look, but she just grinned and raised a hand until a serving girl noticed her and came running. They ordered food and when the serving girl was gone Myrn grinned at Ivan.
“So. What's that charisma effect you're using all the time?” She asked, her grin wide, and her voice something more than a whisper to keep up the clamor of the room. The Inn was now full, and like they both had many were seeking a seat, food, and drink after being dragged into a frenzied dance that was more or less Ivan's fault.
She leaned into his arm before he could reply, and inhaled slowly through her nose.
“Did you steal some magic cologne or something?” She asked, waggling her eyebrows at him in a manner that was certainly only half flirtatious in design, but honest enough to match her blush.
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Myrn was honestly a staggering beauty. Her unnaturally red hair and bright blue eyes that caught the light like gemstones made her stick out, and there were glances all around. It seemed however that some people knew her, and Ivan felt curiosity fall away from most of those who got an answer from someone nearby or at their table. Ivan had to blink and sort out what he was hearing from what he was feeling for a moment as he was unused to even his low level of insight in such a crowded space.
“No. It's just an effect of some little magic I have.” Ivan replied, and nudged her elbow. “Like you have a lot of room to talk with your hair and eyes anyway.”
Myrn grinned at him, and they came apart a little as another serving maid brought them their drinks; this one certainly an adult as compared to the girl who took their order. She blushed at Ivan and at Myrn before giving them both a polite curtsy and heading back to the kitchen.
Ivan watched her go. He was a little amazed by her reaction to the two of them, and he saw Myrn's face take on a huge grin as she set down her flagon after her first drink. Penelope's laughter mocked him from within the Shroud.
“So..?” Myrn asked, still grinning widely.
“So what?” Ivan asked, returning her grin, unable to help as her smiles were rather infectious, especially at close range.
Myrn took another swig of her drink, and smiled at Ivan as he shifted a dry gaze between her and the drink.
“Is it some kind of spark magic?” Myrn asked, tilting her head just so and weaponizing her smile on him again.
Ivan shook his head soberly.
“I don't have any sparks.” He admitted truthfully.
Myrn's expression softened to a look of sympathy.
“I've heard a lot of people say that they've felt certain people are close to a spark, awakening that dormant magic inside their soul, but I can't say I've ever been more certain than when I sit near you. I can feel it sometimes.” She said, her voice softening by each word until she finally paused. “It's there behind whatever anger you're hiding away.” She finished in a soft whisper directed into her mug.
Ivan looked to Myrn, and held her gaze. She blushed, and smiled at him.
“Your eyes are a bit intense, you know?” She asked with a laugh.
Ivan nodded. He had seen his reflection lately and it was difficult to meet his own eyes. He had never thought much of his own gaze, and he had never been one to practice faces or expressions. If he ever had any need Tanya had always been the sounding board he relied on for that type of judgment. He dropped his gaze, but saw Myrn's smile broaden on her face as she laughed again. This laugh didn't have much energy and was a gentler expression of humor than something meant to tease or mock him.
“It's not a bad effect really. That cold and hungry sort of look you get sometimes really can get a girl's heart going.” Myrn teased, chuckling softly again as Ivan sighed. She took another drink then, and changed the subject, relieving him of his thoughts a little.
“So what magic can you do? Is it just Scribe and Hedge Doctoring?” She asked.
Ivan nodded.
“Some ritual work as well, but that's been slow leveling.” Ivan admitted.
Myrn nodded and took another sip of her drink.
“I would imagine. Most commonplace ritual work takes place...well you know that better than I do.” Myrn said, correcting herself before plainly bringing up Istania's death.
Ivan directed his mind away from the pain of his Goddess's death and the hopeless loneliness he felt without her divine magic touching his soul. It was a pain as terrible as losing Tanya or any other member of his family and he had finally had enough of crying himself to sleep. Meeting Myrn was helping so far, and gave him a little hope that things might turn around.
In the silence he focused and worked his mind through the steps of he and Penelope's plan once more. It started with more or less replacing the Spark he had lost when the Goddess died.
If Ivan and Penelope's plan worked his Occult Ritualist job would ignite a latent, or produce a nascent spark and give his level 10 Knight Class the chance to advance to Occult Knight, or something close like Dark Knight; or maybe even a Blood Knight considering Ivan's ease of use and summoning Quixla's Bloodletting Dagger. Basic Jobs that grew only to level 5 were easy enough to gain and master, but to advance beyond Standard and Adept with their max levels capped at 10 and 15 respectively it took a greater show of effort.
The Dungeon and Myrn's key to it were exactly what Ivan needed for that. So he controlled his emotions, and didn't indulge the hot bar of anger in his mind.
Myrn's hand gently touched Ivan's wrist, perhaps sensing his mood with her insight.
“Sorry—uum-- Isaac. I shouldn't have brought that up. I can just feel it sometimes is all. I wish there was something I could do to help you awaken it, whatever magic you have hidden inside. My parents would probably say something about a true test being needed to awaken latent spark like yours so maybe that's just what we do. It's sort of what you plan on anyway right? Getting stronger?” Myrn said, speaking with the gentle nervous tone of someone who very much wanted the other person to keep the conversation going. Her cheeks were flush with drink, but she was being very sincere.
Ivan gave in and nodded. On a whim he moved his hand just enough to return Myrn's touch. His fingers found hers and he gave her a hand an affirmative squeeze before drawing her hand back to her own space. Ivan gave her a weak smile in apology, and Myrn managed a brilliant blush in return. She quickly hid that by taking a long draw from her mug of ale.
“The Dungeon would be a good thing for that, I dare say.” Said another voice, and the two of them looked up to see the Bard before their table. “Do you mind if I sit?” He asked.
Ivan looked to Myrn since the two seemed to have some sort of acquaintance.
“Sound spark.” Penelope reported with casual interest. “It's an odd one to see in your world. I’ll bet he's been listening in more than he'll let on too.”
“No, not at all. Go ahead and sit. Isaac this is Davian Middlefellow. He's a bard.” Myrn said, using a wave of her arm and the flagon in her hand to welcome Davian to the table. She giggled and muttered something about his name.
“Middlefellow?” Ivan asked, voicing thoughts he thought parallel in some degree to Mryns.
“Yes. You see there's three men.” The man began without preamble. “One perhaps tall and dignified—a real royal bearing, and the other perhaps a bit shorter and quite a bit handsomer? I'm the one in the middle you don't remember. Or at least I used to be before--” He began, but suddenly a patron a few tables over scooted back in their chair fast enough to tip a passing serving girl's tray of dirty dishes. For the most part forks, bowls, and things went everywhere just around the girl, but one flagon somehow flew high into the air launched by its position on the tray she carried. Its unfinished contents sloshed about over its rim as it flew gracefully over the nearby tables and collided with Davian's head, its flat brew spilling over him and only him.
Mryn broke out in a fit of giggles as the man was stopped short and covered in ale.
Ivan stared at the strange man as he cradled his temple with one hand, and pulled at the now soaked ruffles of his shirt with the other. He really was, as he said, a plain run of the mill looking man, but he did at least have strange blue-green eyes and the charisma of his supposed Job helping him seem more charming and friendly than strange looking.
“Right. Not supposed to mention that.” He muttered.
“Oh that's a neat curse.” Penelope muttered, seeming interested and musing. “Get him to talk about where he came from more. It will increase the entropy effect you just witnessed.”
Curse? What? Ivan wanted to ask what Penelope meant, but remembered the thing about the Bard's Sound spark. Ivan didn't know much about Hexcraft or what spells or abilities might be included in a Sound Magic Discipline, but Penelope's warning seemed to suggest some kind of hearing based perception power. Ivan hadn't really thought much about that and now as he did sudden paranoid thoughts filled his mind. He felt vulnerable and exposed all of a sudden. A cold fear thrust thin fingers into his gut with each passing moment as he thought more and more about what he didn't know or what he might have overlooked.
“Shhhh....Ivan. If something were wrong I would tell you. Just fit in for now. Someone like Davian will be great for being the front man of a party. Encourage him and see how motivated he is to join you on a hypothetical dungeon journey.” Penelope said. She was sitting in the Shroud right next to Tanya's grave, and her fingers' touch on the stone sent chills up and down Ivan's spine; the sensation replacing that of the cold tendrils of fear in his belly.
“Are you okay?” Ivan asked, his voice controlled, but appropriately concerned.
“Yes...yes I'm fine...” Davian replied with a sigh.
Meanwhile another serving girl was rushing to his side with the Innkeeper's wife in tow. They came and fussed over Davian a moment or two. They wiped him down and checked the goose egg currently growing on the man's head.
“I am fine for now ladies. Thank you, thank you. I will gladly take you up on that offer to wash these clothes once I go change clothes, but for now I would like to finish my conversation with my friends here if I could.” Davian told them, all smiles and charm.
Myrn was still giggling, and she leaned over to Ivan to speak in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Stuff like that happens no matter where he is. If he tries to talk about where he comes from stuff will literally fall out of the sky to stop him. It's hilarious.” Myrn confided in him, her voice growing quite loud from the whisper it had started as.
Davian sighed and sank into the chair he was sitting in as the two women left him.
“What Myrn says is true unfortunately. I can't even talk about the...well anyway. Let's start again. I heard you talking and for some reason it made me think of the Dungeon. I know Myrn has held her Dungeon pass for some time, and she's been known to put together a party or two to go into the Old Oak from time to time.” Davian took a moment to breathe, and collect his thoughts, or at least that's the show he put on. Ivan couldn't help but notice the man's eyes wash over him as if taking in every detail.
“How long have you known each other?” Ivan asked.
“Oh a year or two now. We meet in places like this, or back near Dentennek. Myrn's a loud one, and sticks out. She's also fond of drink and gets herself in trouble from time to time.” Davian said, frowning slightly, his face painted with concern as Myrn took a long pull from her mug.
“Yup.” Myrn agreed happily.
Davian didn't appear fooled by her mirth, and Myrn appeared oblivious of his gaze.
“Trouble that until recently some unruly types thought only her family could get her out of.” Davian reiterated.
Myrn didn't look at him, and instead leaned against Ivan's arm and yawned. Davian's gaze was concerned for a long moment before he sighed and let the tension out of his shoulders. Myrn clearly just wasn't going to talk to him about whatever subject he was trying to broach.
“Not that anyone is looking for her or cares very much to expect her of doing something herself about a particularly troublesome family of leeches situated in Dentennek that are now suddenly all missing. They've not been brought to the God of Light's camps, or seen taking ship out to sea, so few know what to think except to be glad they are gone.” Davian said, his words conversational and directed at Ivan, but his gaze held firm on Myrn.
Ivan looked at Myrn, but she just smiled at him before taking another drink.
“Would this guy be any good in the dungeon Myrn?” Ivan asked her gently.
Myrn responded immediately.
“Of course. He's a bard. They're great. Area of Effect Sleeping spells, the same for confusion, other debuffs, and they usually buff or help heal the party too. Marching Song for speed, and Battle Hymn for increased stamina and ability recovery time. Oh and they use insults as magic to hurt things. It's great. They're not as high damage and flashy as mages, but they're almost always better at keeping a group alive in battle. Especially in the Old Oak.” Myrn said, in that completely certain manner drunk people got when talking about something they knew well.
“Can you do all that Davian?” Ivan asked the man.
Davian's gaze was still focused on Myrn's drunken state, but he nodded.
“I've spoken to Myrn before about going with her, and she's always wanted me to get a little more experience. I've gotten that by going on monster hunts and rather a bit more fighting than I would like recently. I've even learned my lesson and carry a sword now.” Davian confided.
Ivan raised an eyebrow peeking down at the man's belt.
“Well it's up in my room now. I don't wear it when I play!” Davian scoffed, making a loud affronted noise before he spoke. He sat a little straighter ready to press on when a girl came by with a platter full of food and three fresh flagons of drink in hand.
Myrn clapped and excitedly took up the fork and knife given with her plate. Davian was handed a flagon of ale, and apologized to again by the serving girl. He responded in polite murmurs and slipped her a silver bit as a tip. The girl blushed and swung her hips in an energetic reaction to whatever the man whispered to her.
It didn't seem like he meant any harm, but Ivan found that he didn't like the man even trying that sort of thing near him. It was strange. He had no claim over that girl or anyone. He pressed the strange feeling from his thoughts.
Penelope chuckled ominously in his head.
“You'll have to forgive me for asking this before you've finished your meal, but what about you Isaac? Are you capable enough for the Dungeon?” Davian asked.
Myrn was already carving away at their food with drunken determination, but Ivan's hands froze on his utensils.
“I--” He began, but was cut off.
“He killed a Hexapod by himself. He's fine.” Myrn mumbled confidently around a mouthful of food. Both Ivan and Davian gave her a look, and were rewarded by a smile half filled with food. Ivan couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit at Myrn's disregard for being lady-like or for keeping with common table manners.
“A Hexapod? I assume one of the greater ones.” Davian asked Myrn with his eyes on Ivan.
Myrn nodded as she chewed her latest bite of food.
“If you don't mind my asking what Jobs do you have, and what are their Class?” Davian asked.
The cold fingers of paranoid thoughts and fear threatened again, but not only Penelope, but Myrn even, had told him what to do in this situation.
“I'm a level 10 Fighter, a Level 6 Hedge Doctor, and level 5 in both Thief, Gardner, and Scribe.” Ivan answered, he even managed to show a little shame on his face and look away from the man.
There was a moment of uncertain tension, but then Ivan felt the thread set in his mind.
“Oh. That's honest I suppose. It's been hard times.” Davian said in a controlled tone. “But that's good. You'll have some magic resistance from scribe, and be acceptably durable with two combat jobs. Getting you to Rogue will be no problem in the Dungeon given we have a few allies with us who can hold the front line.” He said, carrying on in a friendly manner.
Ivan looked up at him, feeling uncertain in truth, even if in his mind he felt certain of the spider-like thread of his working manipulation upon the man. Davian's expression was an open smile. He took a sip of ale from the flagon that had been given him, and held out a hand.
“It's good to meet you, Isaac. We live in hard times, but things will get better. You're with friends now.”
Ivan shook his hand, and didn't have to fake as much as control the smile he showed on his face. Penelope chuckled darkly in the tiny hidden realm of the Shroud, and just for a moment Ivan could feel her wicked pride like a malevolent bonfire within his soul hungering to be fed from the prey all around him.